Page 47 of Maximus

“I’d love one.” They turned to leave, but Abrasha stopped her.

“Elena, a moment.”

“Certainly.” She stepped away from Max. “I’ll be right there.”

Max nodded and walked away.

“This man is not good enough for you.” Abrasha sniffed as if he smelled something bad.

“Excuse me?” She blinked at his audacity.

“He’s too weak. I can see it in his eyes. He has no steel in his body. You need someone who is strong.” Abrasha extended his empty champagne glass, and one of his bodyguards filled the glass from a bottle they’d brought to the show. She’d always assumed it was because he had a favorite year or brand. Now, she realized it was his paranoia.

She glanced around them before answering, “I think I should be allowed to be with whom I choose.”

“Of course, just know he is weak and a waste of your time. This one will not stand during bad times.” Abrasha turned his back on her, dismissing her as he walked over to the only Pissarro he owned. Several couples flocked around him to compliment him on the art.

Elena turned around and walked over to where Max was waiting for her with a glass of sparkling water. “He told me you were weak and wouldn’t stand during bad times.” Taking the glass from Max, she turned her back on Abrasha. “How could I have not seen him for what he is?”

Max turned to look in the same direction, so his back was also to Abrasha. “The important thing is you see it now.”

“I do.” She nodded.

Max put his full glass on a small table meant for that purpose, then squeezed her hand. “It’s time. Go with Val. Now.”

Elena put the glass down and let go of his hand, heading straight for Val, who was watching her. She got to the door, and Val opened it. They both ducked out of the event room. “To the front parking lot. Do not stop.”

Elena put her head down and walked as fast as humanly possible.

CHAPTER 22

Max watched Elena and Val leave the venue. Sokolov watched them but didn’t follow. Max looked at his watch and spoke lowly. “Smith?”

“I’m here with Reaper.” The reply came over the comms. “Malice?”

“Two seconds,” Malice said. “Okay, all set. Driver’s down. The key fob is in the driver’s seat.”

“Copy,” Reaper said.

Max glanced at his watch again. Everything was going as planned. “I’m bringing him in.” Max turned and made his way to Abrasha. He waited as the man pontificated about his acquisition of the Matisse, which was displayed perfectly. He reached down, clicked the crown of his watch, and waited.

Abrasha turned to him and smiled. “Is it time?”

“Indeed,” Max said.

The people he spoke to moved away, and Abrasha’s bodyguards moved closer—three now. He caught Sokolov answering his phone, and the man’s head popped up. He looked over at Abrasha and headed in their direction. Max pointed to the exit. “This way, sir.”

Sokolov rushed up to them. “Sir, a moment.”

“I’m busy.” Abrasha dismissed Sokolov.

“Sir, the vault. The fire alarm inside has activated,” Sokolov hissed.

“Find Elena and get back there,” Abrasha barked. “Take enough men to make sure my art is protected.”

“Yes, sir.” Sokolov barked out names, and five men charged toward the door, leaving two with Abrasha.

Max put his hand to his mouth. “Do you wish to delay this meeting, sir? Your art in Sochi …” He let his hand flutter about.