"I won't . . . my poison is American Horror Story. Not exactly alpha male television."
"I'll forgive you but only because Adam Levine makes an appearance in Asylum."
"Well, I'll forgive you because I think Maggie Siff is one hot chick."
We both laughed together and settled into one another's arms.
I couldn't have been happier even if I tried yet the good times couldn't last forever and the next day, the real world would close in and blow our whole cushiony situation to smithereens.
Chapter Fourteen
Maxwell
If one city haunted him in his dreams, Boca Raton was surely at the top of his list. The beautiful and affluent area of Palm Beach County was revered for its shopping, gorgeous estates and lovely views but the city would never be known to Max for anything more than the living nightmares he'd been forced to endure.
Mila had never bothered to move from the gated, ostentatious and pretentious home Dimitri had bought for her. She loved it-the gilded ceilings, the objet d'art, the Picassos and the Degas ballerinas, Fabergé eggs and antique furniture that was not made for children, adolescents or animals.
For as long as he'd known her, she always loved beautiful things but nothing and no one more than she adored her own self-preservation regardless the cost to others. Dimitri was a means to an end and she had a child if only to keep them tethered to one another. If she never had to see him again, she wouldn't give a damn. She still had everything in life she'd ever dreamed of and for her that was more than enough.
Not even the sacrifice of her own children could damper her spirits for possessing everything her heart desired.
Max drove a 2015 Range Rover in Barolo Black to blend in with all the other wealthy residents of the exclusive Lake Drive area. He pointed out the elegant, gated white mansion that was over sixteen thousand square feet, not including the outdoors area covered in native foliage, or the grand pool and Jacuzzi you couldn't see from the front view.
"That's the place where all my nightmares began," he said in a flat, unaffected voice.
Mags stared at the place for a long time before she replied, "Drive up to the gates. Let's see how many guards and gunmen we'll be dealing with when all the shit goes down."
"Do you think that's a good idea?"
She smiled. "I'll do all the talking. You just be a good boy."
Max chuckled as he drove up to the gates. There was an elaborate "K" engraved in the gates he couldn't forget if he tried to and suddenly, he found it hard to catch his breath. He recognized the same monsters that not only enjoyed what happened to him but also relished in the torture Dimitri had carried out on him. He was much older and perhaps they wouldn't recognize him but there was always the slim chance they might and he wasn't willing to risk it.
Before he could slide the SUV into reverse to drive away, Mags hopped out of the passenger door and strode directly to the gates. He couldn't deny she looked smokin' hot in a pair of designer jeans, white halter-top and white sky-high espadrille wedges. The whole outfit had cost a pretty penny in the Miami Design District but her beauty was so fucking versatile, she could easily transform from white-trash chic to spoiled, rich bitch princess in a heartbeat.
A couple of Hispanic guards followed by brute, steroid-raged Eastern European men-obviously of Russian descent-appeared out of nowhere with guns and bad attitude.
"Where the fuck is she? Where is that Cuban whore?" Mags screeched aggressively as she rushed angrily toward the men.
"Miss, we are going to have to ask you to step back?"
"Step back?" She pushed a soldier Max personally knew as Viktor, a mean motherfucker with a penchant for fucking and killing underage boys and girls. "That fuckin' skank was all over my man like a cheap ass motherfuckin' suit last night at Oasis and I truly don't appreciate it! Where the fuck is that plastic ghetto beyatch?"
"Miss, I assure you this is the wrong residence. There are no Cubans, Mexicans, Puerto Ricans or any other members of Hispanic descent who live here," Viktor replied in a cold voice. "You see that ‘K' right there? If you knew what it stood for, you wouldn't even be this close to me right now."
"Fuck you, you ‘roid-raged Polack! I wanna see her right now!"
"What the fuck did you just call me?" Viktor began to curse in Russian as Max stepped out of the Range Rover and rushed over.
"Grace, I told you that bitch didn't live here!" He grabbed her by her waist as she put up a fight.
"Mark, fuckin' let go of me right now. You would have fucked that stupid cunt if I hadn't walked in on the two of you! Piece of shit! I'm gonna send your broke ass back to Pensacola where you came from-spending my fuckin' money like it's water! You can't fuck for shit anyway!"
"Sorry, guys!" Max looked back as they all shook their head while he dragged Mags back to the Rover and threw her into the back seat.
As soon as he jumped into the driver's side, she began to beat him over the head from the back seat as he pulled out and drove away. The minute they were at a safe distance, she stopped and laughed out loud.
"You think they bought it?"
He shook his head sadly. "Does it fuckin' matter when I have a raging migraine on the horizon?"
Mags leaned over and kissed his neck. "Sorry, babe. Didn't mean to get too real back there. I did notice besides the six guards and thugs who came to meet me, there were at least a half dozen more patrolling on the inside of the property. That doesn't include security cameras-which, someone is probably manning at all times-and guards inside the house. Would they have this much protection if your mother was outside the country?"
"She's here," he replied as he drove directly to the Boca Beach Club. "Viktor follows her everywhere she goes."
"Why was he outside?"
Max shrugged. "She's probably sunnin' her naked ass by the pool. He's never too far from her so if he was there to prevent any unwanted visitors, you better believe Mila is outdoors. No way would he leave her alone for too long."
They pulled up to the Beach Club hotel and had the Range Rover valet parked while an attendant gathered their two Louis Vuitton trunks and walked them inside to the Registration Desk.
Like most of the local joints for the wealthy, plastic and fabulous, the Beach Club catered to the upper crust with five-star amenities, an amazing pool area and ocean views of bluer than blue water. Max checked them in under Gemma and Geoff Jones. He slid over a platinum American Express card to pay for the three nights they booked while Mags looked around, hyper-aware of their surroundings.
They took the elevator up to their hotel room and once they arrived, their luggage had already been delivered thanks to the bellboy. He hung around at the door as they looked around. Mags handed him a crisp one hundred dollar bill.
"Tell me, is Oasis as great a club as I've heard about? It had mixed reviews on Yelp so I thought I'd ask a local."
"Yeah, it's fuckin' awesome. You're gonna have a blast! Enjoy your stay in Boca Raton."
Her smile dropped the moment she closed the door behind her.
Max walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist as he held her close and breathed in her scent of expensive perfume and frustration. "How the hell are we gonna get past all those men? It's a fucking death trap, babe. We would have had a better shot robbin' the goddamn Heritage in Reno."
He tilted her face up to his and smiled. "Have faith in me, Mags. We won't have to sneak in at all. In fact, I'll get Mila to invite us in."
"How the hell are you gonna do that?"
"To find out that answer, watch and learn the master at work," he whispered in her ear.
That evening when Max and Mags ventured into Oasis, the place was packed solid with the young, wealthy and beautiful of Boca Raton. They blended in perfectly, opting for designer clothes that were both classic yet flashy enough to signal they were part of the same scene most of the club-goers were obviously a part of.
He looked around casually after both of them grabbed drinks and strolled through the club.
There was a second level to the club that happened to be VIP only with a velvet rope and a burly security guard who stood directly in front of the stairs. Max palmed a one hundred dollar bill in his hand. The burly security guard looked both him and Mags up and down before he unsecured the rope and let them both pass.
Ever the gentleman, he allowed Mags to walk up the stairs first but it only was because she provided a hell of a view as she sashayed her ass in a dress that barely came to mid-thigh. Not that getting his engine revved was the reason they were there at all. He knew one person who wouldn't miss a night back at her favorite club, despite being old enough to be most of these young people's parent.