Page 1 of Vicious Little Liar
1
LETICIA
“Go. Dance for me.” Maxim pats my ass and shoves me toward a nearby table where several other girls are already shaking their asses in their too-tight mini skirts on several of the club’s tabletops. Judging by the smiles on their faces and the come hither looks in their eyes, they’re shaking their assets by choice, not by force.
Lucky them.
It’s obvious they’re enjoying themselves, eagerly soaking up the attention of the surrounding men. I wonder what that’s like—having the choice to cut loose. What does it feel like to truly be carefree? I doubt a single one of the women in front of me worry about their survival when they wake up each morning. They’re young. Beautiful. And not one of them is related to any of Richland’s three notorious crime families.
Maxim pushes me again, this time more forcefully, and I stumble forward in my red-bottomed stilettos, catching myself on the edge of one of the tables.Asshole.Gritting my teeth, I force myself not to look over my shoulder and glare at him.
Guess I’m taking too long.
With a grimace, I do what he wants and fight back the impulse to flip him off and deny him. I wouldn’t win that fight, and Maxim would enjoy doling out the punishment for my insubordination too much.
I’ve learned a lot these past months of our engagement. Most importantly, how to pick and choose my battles. I know when to push, and when to back off and save myself the pain and humiliation of Maxim’s particular brand of retaliation.
Balling my hands into fists, I use one of the nearby chairs as a stepping stool and climb onto the table, careful not to flash my ass to anyone in the process. The table shifts beneath me and it takes me a few seconds to recover my balance. I was unsteady in these stupid heels to begin with, and being an extra four feet off the ground doesn’t help.
Finding my balance, my eyes meet Maxim’s as he moves forward. Brushing his thumb along my bare calf, he gives me a satisfied smirk and nod of approval. “Exquisite.”
Pendejo.
My lip curls, but self preservation transforms my sneer into a smile. I hate that I’ve made himhappy.
Maxim likes it when I listen to him. When Iobey.The idiot thinks my compliance means I’ve accepted him as my fiancé. That I’ve accepted my fate and this life that is not of my choosing.
I haven’t. Not even close.
But if I’m going to escape the future that’s been carved out for me since I was little more than a child, it has to look that way. Maxim needs to believe we’re on the same side. A feat that should be difficult but which has been surprisingly easy.
“Dance, ??? ????????? ?????.”Moya malen'kaya kukla,he says, as if calling me his little doll is some sort of endearment. I assure you, it isn’t. But I ignore the slight and do what’s expected of me, offering him a coy smile before swaying my hips as if I don’t know the truth of his words.
Maxim, like the rest of his men, assume I don’t speak their language, and their ignorance is to my advantage. I had very little freedom growing up and spent most of my time studying to stave off my boredom.
Languages are one of the few subjects I found challenging as a child and, like most obstacles set in my path, I addressed it head on. I’m fluent in Spanish, Russian, French, and Italian. And I’m conversational in both Portuguese and Mandarin as well. Not that anyone aside from my father knows it. “A weapon is most effective when your enemy doesn’t know you are wielding it.”I don’t agree with my father on many things, but I agree with him on this.
“Put on a good show for me,da?”
“Of course.”
He grins and makes his way to his seat, his men closing rank around him. I snort. All for show. Maxim doesn’t need nearly the amount of security that he carts around, especially in a club his family owns within the Sidorov territory, but his ego likes to inflate his importance.
Maxim is a second son, which wouldn’t matter to most people, but in our way of life, being the first-born male of your generation grants you the keys to a kingdom. Something Maxim desperately wants to have.
The first born is the heir. The one with all the power and all the control. He inherits both money and title while those born after him inherit nothing and are forced to earn their own wealth.
A second son has status, sure. But he has limited authority. At best, he can be his brother’s right-hand man. A figure of support. But a second son is forever doomed to walk in his brother’s shadow.
For a man like Maxim, it’s a fate worse than death.
But he’s found a loophole. One I provided him.
With me at his side, he has a once in a lifetime opportunity to shine. To be the quintessential first-born son. Not of his own family. That ship already sailed. But he has the chance to take control of mine and leave the Sidorov Bratva behind in favor of a chance as the head of the Castro Cartel.
Arms thrown wide across the backs of the booth seats, Maxim holds my gaze and lifts one brow, as if to say,well?You’d think he’d be less of an asshole given all that I’ve offered him.
With my smile firmly in place, I sway my hips to the club’s music and ignore my simmering anger.
