Clubs: The Suit’s Book 2

A few weeks later . . .

Mikhail’s acting as if nothing happened while Max runs around like a headless chicken. The two couldn’t be any more different. Mikhail doesn’t seem to be worried about the Clarkes, but Max is eager to put an end to them.

I sit at the table in a restaurant that has smooth jazz playing in the background. Nina pulls Giovanni in and whispers something in his ear to make him shake his head. I understand that technically they’re my family now, but it will take some time to warm up to them.

“They’re smoking outside,” he tells her.

“No, that’s not what I asked.”

Standing up from the table, I tell them I’ll go check on Max and Mikhail. I’ve grown even more curious than Nina while they’ve been bickering about what the guys are doing outside.

I walk through a sea of tables until I reach the door and swing it open.

“He wants me to put an end to this Clarke shit,” Max says, flicking the ash off his cigarette.

“Just tell me when,” Mikhail mutters. His back fills his suit the same way it did the first time I saw him. This moment reminds me so much of that time. I remember crashing right into his chest and falling to the ground. I thought he was beautiful in a sickening way. Now, he’s beautiful in a way that nothing can compare to. His flaws make him worth so much.

“Please stop putting yourselves at war,” I demand. Mikhail has been through enough. He’s risked his life for so long, and there needs to be an end to this. I’m exhausted, so I can only imagine how he must feel. Actually, I’m sure he loves this. What the hell am I thinking?

Max shakes his head, the breeze flowing through his dark, curly locks of hair. “Nah, they’re asking for it.”

Max has made it his mission to tear apart the Clarkes. He’s got a vendetta against them for some reason. I’ve tried to talk to him about it, but Max is a very closed-off person.

My arms fall to my sides. “This is ridiculous.”

“They won’t stick to their end of the deal. They agreed, but they’ll break it,” Mikhail says to me. Max got in his head.

I roll my eyes and shove him in the shoulder. He grabs me and wraps his arms around my waist. His head rests on mine while we look at Max.

Behind him, I see someone who looks familiar. A black German shepherd walks behind her, scoping out the surroundings so she doesn’t have to. She walks elegantly, but with purpose. Her stride slows the further she walks away.

I knew for a fact I wasn’t seeing things before. That’s Rosalie—it has to be.

“Rose!” I shout.

Max’s head turns quickly while he gives me a death glare. “What the fuck did you just say?” he asks with a tone of voice I’ve never heard before. His face turns white and his lips part slightly. He looks as if he’s seen a ghost.

I’m taken aback by his attitude, but there’s no time to ask questions. “That’s my friend. I’ll be right back,” I say, moving off swiftly. “Rosalie!” I shout again.

She turns her head slowly and smiles when she sees me. All this time I thought I was crazy, but now I’m seeing her again, I knew I was wrong. “Sloane,” she says, making her way over, but she looks at me strangely.

Not at me . . .

At Max.

Max grabs onto my arm, pulling me away from her. His grip is tight against my wrist as if he’s trying to protect me in a strange way. I look down at my wrist and back at him. His eyes are filled with dread. They fall with defeat.

He refuses to look anywhere but in the direction of Rosalie.

She’s running away fast. Her dog looks back before he races to catch up with her.

“Do you know her?” I ask.

“Do I know who?”

“That girl.”

Max moves past me, walking back over to Mikhail. “I don’t see anyone,” he mumbles, shrugging me off.

“But you reacted when I said her name!”

“You’re seeing ghosts.”

My brow furrows. “No, I’m not. I literally just saw her.”

He ignores me and walks back inside after he throws his cigarette to the floor, stomping out the butt.

My mouth hangs open while I process what the hell is happening. “You saw her, right?” I ask, turning back to Mikhail.

He doesn’t say anything; his eyes just fall.

“Mikhail,” I demand.

“I think it’s best if we go inside.”

First Max, now Mikhail? It’s like they’re both refusing to admit they saw her too for some reason.

Mikhail’s hand holds the small of my back while he leads me back inside. How is he able to act as if nothing happened before we came back inside? Are we both just going to ignore what we saw?

Laughter fills the room when we enter, but I don’t feel happiness. I feel like I’m dying with questions. Rosalie is quick to appear but disappears like nothing ever happened. That’s not normal—I know that much.

I take a seat on the bench with Mikhail. Max takes Mira from Nina’s arms and sways her in his large arms. I watch him in awe.

Nina’s baby, Mira, was born about a week ago, right after the ball where Giovanni was shot by Mikhail. The two of them act as if it never happened. I can’t tell if they don’t have the energy to hash out their differences or if they’re putting their differences aside for me and Nina.

The second Max grabs Mira, it’s as if he forgets all his worries. He only sees her. When I look at Max, I don’t usually see a family guy in him, but I do now.

“You look just like her, you know?” Giovanni says to me, finally breaking the awkward feeling. I’ve always wanted to know more about my mother, but Dad told me it hurt to talk about her.

“Do you have a picture?” I ask.

Giovanni reaches into his pocket and pulls out a picture of our mother.

“Wow,” I say. I really do look just like her. “It’s the hair,” I tell him with a laugh.

“Different colors, but . . .”—he pauses as the corner of his mouth tugs up—“very curly.”

I take the picture in my hands and see another behind it. The second one is a photo of me at the house in Russia. I think I’m fifteen in the picture. So many things have changed since then.

“How did you get this picture of me?” I ask.

“Kirill.”

Finally, I ask the question I’ve been dying to know. “Are you the Suits?”

Everyone directs their attention to me.

I’m not asking this out of nowhere—Max is wearing an embroidered heart. I can’t even begin to understand the meaning behind it.

“Yes,” Max admits with a grumble.

The only reason I’m not completely intimidated by Max is because he has a gentle face. His jaw is sharp, but there’s something about his eyes.

“Do you mind if I ask the meaning behind the group?”

“Not at all,” Giovanni chimes in. “It started with Max. It was a way for people to decipher business deals between him and his father. Since they shared the same last name, he didn’t want people thinking the business transactions would benefit him. While Max’s father is still alive, it’s a way for him to take over profits under a different name. I followed the idea while my father was still alive. Max’s friend Marco was by his side through everything, and he decided to follow his idea. He has diamonds.”

It’s getting kind of difficult to keep up with all the information being thrown at me. It makes sense, but it’s a lot. “And Mikhail took over clubs,” I say.

“He did. Probably because of Kirill, but I’m not sure if he knew the meaning behind it at the time. He was trying to get under my skin when he took the name.”

“Bottom of the chain,” I mutter.

“I wanted to join in the fun,” Mikhail says with a half-smile.

“It’s not something you should concern yourself with. We’ve made a lot of enemies doing this. Many think we’re creating separate families this way. It makes the threats higher if there are more families involved. I can’t really say I blame them for it either.”

I nod in response. It’s going to take a while to warm up to Giovanni and Nina.

Everyone besides Max lowers their voices when they see a man approach the table.

“Marco,” Max calls.

Not a thing about him is approachable. “Are we not going to talk about it?” he demands while pulling up a chair. He gives me a strange smile. His eyes are brooding, and his nose lines up perfectly with his full lips. His dark complexion makes his hazel eyes stand out. The dark lashes that lift from his eyes are long and curl effortlessly.

His attention drifts across the room, and I feel myself beginning to question everything about myself. His eyes are not kind; they’re judgmental, as if nothing around him is even worth a second glance.

We all stare at him, wondering what he means. “Talk about what?” Giovanni asks, not seeming interested in Marco at all.

“Where the fuck is my money?”

I look at Mikhail. He’s just as confused as I am. “What do you mean?” Max asks.

Marco’s tongue rolls over his cheek. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. So it’s just me then?”

Mira coos, breaking the awkward silence between us all. “Check your accounts. Right now,” he throws out, and the men oblige.

I scoot closer to Mikhail, growing nervous. I don’t care for money, but I know it means a lot to the people surrounding me.

Max’s face falls flat.

Marco leans back in his chair as if he’s content to know it’s not just him.

“I still have everything,” Mikhail admits.

“As do I,” Giovanni adds.

I take in a deep breath, glad I won’t have to see Mikhail lose his shit.

“What the fuck is happening?” Max asks.

Marco laughs, but it’s not the kind sprouted from joy. “Come on, Max. You’re a big boy. Figure it out.”

Max clenches his jaw, irritated by how Marco is talking to him. He shakes his head and puts his phone down on the table. He stands up and hands Mira to Giovanni. He places his hand on my shoulder as he passes behind me, making his way over to Marco.

“What did you do?” Max demands.

Marco smiles, not hiding his emotion. “You’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking,” he says as he stands up from his chair. He presses a finger against Max’s chest. “You are the one who decided to get involved with the Clarkes. You just don’t know when to quit. Because of you, we have a fucking joker on our hands.”

“I’ll deal with it,” Max seethes.

I hold my tongue and watch them hash it out.

“If you want to deal with it, you need to fucking end it. Stop toying with that fucking family, Max. I’m over it.”

Max folds his arms and his head falls back. “Remember who you’re talking to.”

My glare turns into a worried expression. I’ve heard Max and Marco are really close friends, and to see them fighting like this concerns me. I can only assume they’re talking about the Clarkes.

I turn to look at Mikhail, and he simply shakes his head. He grabs onto my hand and stands up from his chair. “Let’s go. We’re leaving.”

Clearing my throat, I tell Nina and Giovanni I’ll have to catch up with them another time. It’s clear to me Mikhail doesn’t want me involved in Max’s argument, but at the end of the day I want to be involved. He was there for me when I needed him the night Mikhail found out everything. If he hadn’t stuck by my side, I wouldn’t be surrounded by everyone tonight. Giovanni wouldn’t be here. I could see the hatred Mikhail has for Giovanni as clear as day when he held the gun up to his head.

I want to help Max the way he helped me. He is a kind man suffering from a heartbreak—I think. I’m not entirely sure because he refuses to even talk about it.