by Box Set
Blaire Tatiana has warned Maksim that if Charlie doesn't give you back, he's not allowed to come after you. She won't start a war with the Los Zetas. Everyone is shit scared of the Los Zetas, and when I say everyone, I mean everyone! The Albanians say not to fuck with them. The Turks. The Columbians...Who are the Los Zetas?
I know you haven't messaged me back, but it doesn't matter. I know what's going on now. Tatiana has been questioning me, and in exchange for my answers, she's told me where you are and that you're okay. Apparently, she wants to talk to you also, but Charlie refuses to let her. I'm glad he won't let her.
I just want to say, if you can, you should stay with Charlie and try to find some peace Blaire.
I'll never forget you.
I read a small portion of his text messages, stunned. I'm so stunned that I can't really process anything. It feels like so much has gone on in my absence. It's almost like everyone has been going crazy over another girl, and I'm reading about it from afar.
Feeling numb, I shove my car into reverse, straighten up, and then I steer out of the underground, into the gray day.
Charlie wasn't lying when he told his brother that he's run a check on me. I don't know why this thought creeps into my mind, but it does, and I can't will it away.
Turning right, I cross The London Bridge, barely registering the city bustling before me.
How did he get my fingerprint? I subconsciously watched him wash up everything after our meals, and when I ate alone, I cleared up my own mess. There wasn't any surface he could have gotten my fingerprint from.
Maybe he obtained it from my apartment?
I stop at a roundabout as the lights signal red to wait, amid bumper to bumper traffic.
And, how did he get my photo? Maksim doesn't even have a photo of me.
The light flashes green, so I maneuver through the traffic. I take the third exit off the roundabout and reach the highway junction for Dartford, and I don't know what comes over me. Hitting the break, I come to a screeching stop in the middle of the road, all those messages hitting me like lightening.
MI5.
Tatiana.
Tatiana telling Maksim he's not to come after me if Charlie decides to keep me. Fuck, if Charlie didn't send me home, I'd still be with him.
A flock of people surround my car, and I vaguely hear them yelling to see if I'm okay, am I hurt.
I stare at the sign that will take me back to Tonbridge Wells, to Charlie.
A part of me, my heart, wants me to turn toward Tonbridge Wells. I want to go back to Charlie. The other part of me, my head, tells me to veer for Dartford. I know I have to go back to Maksim. I've always known. But there's something else at play now.
I don't know what to do, so pushing the car in gear, I do the only thing that feels right.
31
I find Maksim at his house in his office, sitting behind his desk with cool composure.
My heart drums at the sight of him. He’s wearing a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up and his brown hair tied back, his golden eyes trained on me in the doorway.
The life that I've spent with him coils in my mind, his voice on repeat while I slept, whispering, We will kill for each other. We are each other's. The hidings, the darkness, and the dampness.
Half an hour ago when I was in my car, conflicted between my heart and my head, I chose this path because it's the only path I am allowed to walk. Of course I'd greedily take a life with Charlie over a life with Maksim, but I'll only do that with my master's permission. I can only do that with my master's permission.
So, here I am.
Holding the doorframe, I smile awkwardly at Maksim. He extends a hand for me to sit in the chair opposite his desk, so I do, keeping a wary eye on him.
“You are wearing your hair down?” he asks in Russian—the whole conversation is in Russian. Then he tips his head, his eyes thinning at me.
“Oh, sorry.” I grip a length that's hanging over my shoulder. “I-I didn't get a chance to tie it back. Shall I—”
“No.” He lifts a hand to stop me. “Leave it down. It looks nice.” He sits forward, cupping his clean shaven chin.
That’s new.
I try to stay focused, but I can't help screwing up my face. Why has he shaved? Maksim always has stubble dress his oval chin. And since when did he tie his hair back?
“You look different, My Little Pet. Nervous.”
That's because I am nervous.
I'm surprised to find I'm not upset with him for bartering me to Charlie. If anything, I'm grateful for the time of peace and happiness he's given me.
“It's been an odd few months, Cэp Maksim,” I say vacantly.
“Yes,” he drawls. “Charlie told me earlier today that he isn’t taking you back with him. Is he bored?”
I shrug because I don't want to tell him about what happened yesterday, or today.
He cocks a brow at me. “You don't know if he's bored of you?”
“No, Cэp Maksim.”
“Hmm. I see. How was your time with him?”
I don't even blink when I say, “It was okay.”
“And your health?”
I frown, not following.
“Your virginity?” Every word he says is executed with slow purpose. I almost forgot how intense he is.
I swallow. “Still intact.”
“Good.” He grins at me. “I imagine Charlie Decena wanted so badly to take it.”
I don't know what to say, so I just look at him. I imagine Charlie did too.
“Before you give me a thorough account of your time with him, I want to know something.” He runs his thumb across his lower lip. “Did you overhear any of his business dealings? Is he speaking with an American Congressman?”
My eyes widen. How the fuck does he know Charlie deals with an American Congressman?
“No. I never heard anything,” I flat out lie, but it weirdly comes naturally to me.
“He never spoke in front of you?”
I shake my head, desperate to ask why he wants to know if Charlie spoke to an American Congressman. What's that to him? None of the Russians deal with the Americans.
“Huh, strange—” he brushes this off, believing me. Maksim thinks I'd never lie to him, and I wouldn't have lied to him before meeting Charlie, but Charlie has changed me.
“So tell me, My Little Pet”—he's still musing, pinching his bottom lip now—“what did Charlie do to you exactly?” He says that he wants intimate details, when and where, and he wants them now. “What did he do to you sexually? How did he make you feel?”
I have to start right from the beginning, so I bashfully tell him about the first night. “I woke up in a strange bed with-with Charlie sitting next to me, playing with my hair. He told me what was going on. I attacked him with feeble effort because I was drugged but it was enough to put some distance between us. Then, once I calmed down, he told me to take off my clothes but of course, I-I refused. I wanted to speak to you.”
“Of course you did, My Little Pet. Of course.” His eyes glow with mockery. “Carry on. I'd like every detail.”
“Well, after I spoke to you”—I blink at Maksim—“I did what I was told. I let him take off my clothes.” I tell him all of what I remember. It's internal torture when I get to the part where Charlie first went down on me, how he splayed me out and forced me to orgasm over and over. The sensation of his cock sliding in my ass. I want to cup my face and hideaway in my hands. Everything feels too private to speak of—this is our private business, as Charlie once said. I now understand what he meant.
I stop and pause a few times but Maksim yells at me, “Every bloody detail! How did he make you feel? Did he go down on you more than once? Masturbate you with his hands? Did he fuck your pussy with his tongue? Tell me everything, Blaire.”
Cringing, I do tell him everything. My cheeks heat under my pale skin as I speak of my emotions. “I felt...broken and whole at once when he had sex with me anally. The sensations made me feel a bit he
ad-drunk. The next day, Char-Charlie kissed me on the mouth like he was in love with me or something. I-I was terrified, Cэp Maksim. I didn't know whether to fight him off or not. You told me not too, so I—”
“What next?” he urges me to get to the good parts.
I'm almost green with embarrassment when I say Charlie had me please him with my mouth. That he would use his hands to stimulate me when he didn't go down on me.
I don't tell him about the deal we made, the deal where if I put Charlie on his ass, he wouldn’t touch me. That feels more private than the sexual intimacy between us.
“Did you like it when he made you orgasm?” Maksim says, his eyes tapering with wonder.
Silence, and I nod.
Maksim grinds his teeth. I can see his mind working overtime.
“How were your days when Charlie wasn't abusing you?” he says, running his tongue along his upper teeth. “Were you kept in one room? Did he let you out?”
“No. He didn't keep me locked up.” My voice softens when I speak of our friendly fights, and when I explain how he took care of me. “He cooked me food—breakfast, lunch, and dinner—and he ate with me. He always made sure I was okay.” I shrug. “Charlie was nice to me.”
There is another long pause where we look at each other, blue eyes to golden brown.
“You care about him,” Maksim says eventually. He's not asking. He knows.
I nod.
His expression drops, his eyes flashing with some emotion I've not seen on him before. I'm not sure, but he almost looks, frightened? No, can't be. Why would he be frightened that I care about Charlie? If anything, he should be angry, ready and willing to belt me.
He doesn't.
Fondling with the collar of his shirt, he tries to straighten up in his chair, plastering on that iron stare he executes so well. “Do you care about him more than you do me?” he asks.
I don't know why, but I hesitate. All I can think about right now is how Charlie cuddled me, touched me, and kissed me.
I know I have to say something, so I tell Maksim, “No. I don't.”
My words don't affect him. I suspect he knows I'm lying. It's only a half lie. I care about Charlie in a different way compared to how I care about Maksim.
“What he did to you, Blaire, did it hurt?”
I visibly flinch as he uses my given name.
“Did it hurt more than anything I've ever done to you?” he says.
“No.” I look down at my hands in my lap. “Nothing hurt.”
“Not even when he fucked your ass? Ohhh, I find that hard to believe. You were a virgin there.”
“Um...” My stomach tightens with nerves. “I'm not sure. He-he prepared me.”
“How? How did he prepare you?” He's back on par, taking no prisoners. He wants to know every fucking factor. “You left those details out, didn't you?”
“He...” I gulp, blinking in the sight of my trainers—the trainers Charlie gave me this morning. “He used my orgasm for lubricant and fingered me for a while, starting with one finger, and then two.”
“How long until he took you?”
I'm tomato red. I can't look Maksim in the eyes. When is this going to be over?
“A while...maybe an hour...I'm not too sure. I was dizzy because he drugged me, and he was using these strange oils that he said would help me relax.”
“Isopropyl Nitrite.” His chair creaks as he sits back. “So, when he penetrated you...”
Oh, God. STOP!
“It didn't hurt?”
“It hurt a little at first but he took his time. He said he wasn't in a rush.”
“Do you miss him, Blaire?” Maksim's abrupt question causes me to look up at him. There's no expression on his face.
I nod innocently. I cannot lie about this. It's written all over my face.
His eyes enlarge, and there's that look again. That look of fear. I've never seen Maksim seem frightened before.
“Does that hurt?” he says with caution. “Missing him, I mean? Does it hurt, Blaire?”
My lips wobble because that ache in my chest, it consumes me.
I nod.
“So, he has hurt you.” He sounds relieved, taking in a few purifying breaths.
My hands start to shake in my lap.
“I guess so.” My voice comes out all small, peppered in tears. “But that's the only pain he's caused me. He's never hurt me like you do, Cэp Maksim.”
“Do you like that he didn't physically hurt you?”
Swallowing, I nod.
I'm expecting Maksim to lay into me, to give me a good bloody hiding—I can feel his anger on the surface of my skin—but he doesn't. He's acting carefully, and utterly confusing me when he diverts by telling me about his time over the past two and a half months. That he went to Russia to visit Tatiana. That he missed me more than he thought he would. “I visited my parents' graves and laid burnt roses,” he says, giving me this heartless look. He burns the roses to take the beauty out of them. In his mind, anything burnt and damaged represents his parents.
“Red roses?” I ask softly, feeling sorry for him. He hates his parents. He has a hard time visiting their graves. He usually takes his anger and hurt out on me—or James—after visiting them.
I suddenly wonder where James is, but I'm too nervous to ask.
“Of course, red roses, My Little Pet.” Maksim glances between my features—his features strangely soft and inviting. “Whenever I'm there, I think of you, of your loyalty, and your passion to defend me. It gives me strength.” He touches his chest. Then he goes right in to how he feels about me. “While I do not always show it, I do love you, Blaire.”
My heart is in my throat. He's never said that before. He never explains himself to me or tells me that he loves me. And just to really fuck with my head, he offers me a week off duty.
“I-I don't need any time off, Cэp Maksim. I don't...” I pause, lost for words. The last thing I need is ample time off to think about the last few months. “If you need me, I'm here.”
He smiles maliciously at me. “I know, My Little Pet. I know.”
We talk a while longer about his time in Russia, how cold it was there and how Tatiana was colder. “She isn't happy that I bartered you, but in all honesty, I'm not glad I did, either. I shouldn't have used you as a bargaining tool. You were mine and mine alone, and I've failed you.”
I don't know what to say—I'm wavering under his golden eyes—so I say nothing.
When he's done pouring out his emotions to me, he tells me that I can go home now. “I'll call you when I need you, My Little Pet.”
I rise to my feet, feeling awkward. I'm not sure if I should say goodbye or just leave—it's been so long since I was under Maksim's power.
He decides for me. He rounds his desk, walking tall and gracefully masculine, and he ushers me to the front door, where he kisses the side of my face. “I'm glad you're back, My Little Pet. So, so glad.”
I smile at him, and just when I think it's over, he grabs my wrist.
“Where did you get this?” He lifts my hand to eyesight, inquiring about the bracelet.
I hesitate to speak but he narrows his eyes at me, making me feel small and feeble.
“Charlie gave it to me.”
It's like I just slapped him. His face drops again, and he blinks at me, flabbergasted.
“So, he's tried to spoil you with twenty-thousand dollar bracelets, has he?” His fingers dig into my flesh. “Give it to me.”
My entire body sinks with panic. “No. I-he...he said...I can't, Cэp Maksim.”
“You can't?” His hand wrapped around my wrist shakes with fury. “Are you taking orders from him now too?”
“I...he said I—” I don't know what to tell him. Just give him the fucking bracelet!
He laughs under his breath, and it's like the last hour didn't happen. Old Maksim is back, and he means business.
“Okay, My Little Pet, then I guess you will earn that bracelet.”
32
Fisting the back of my hair, Maksim drags me through his house and up the stairs, tearing my scalp. I don't stumble. I'm gracefully poised as he hauls me along with him.
Outside his bedroom, he stops to kick the door open and yanks me inside, yelling in Russian as he does. The curtains are drawn and it's almost too dark to see anything. Almost. Surrounding the edges of the ceiling, blue lights beam down, illuminating an assortment of gadgets meant to inflict pain. The Saint Andrew's Cross with leather handcuffs stands in the tall bay window. It looks like hell warmed up, old scratch marks crisscrossing the wooden surface where someone has tried to escape. Whips and leather floggers are lined up around the huge wooden four poster bed, like ornaments. A cattle prod hangs on the wall above the dull fireplace next to the bed.
My blood runs cold. I'm absolutely terrified, my eyes glazing over with tears. He used to sting me with that cattle prod until I could stomach the pain.
“Get out, now!” Maksim yells, and I cower, his voice sharp enough to raise hairs.
I wonder who he's talking to, thinking it might be James, until I see a little blonde girl in his bed. She's wearing a black leather leash, nothing else. She flicks the blankets back, scrambles to her feet with her lush parts jiggling about, and dashes out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut with a loud bang!
I don't cringe. I'm trying to stay mentally balanced. Block it out.
There's a strange smell in the air of strawberries or something, a sweet, fruity aroma. I don't know why. Maksim usually burns brut candles.
He pulls on my hair and forces me around to face him, bends my neck back and glares down at me with fiery golden eyes. “You will forget about the last three months, My Little Pet”—his hand in my hair twists and tightens to the point where I moan in pain—“because I'll beat the memories out of you. And if I can't beat the memories out of you, I'll medicate them out of you.”
WALLOP! He slaps me around the face, knocking me onto the bed. Tangled in my own hair, I land with a heavy bounce, my knees hitting the carpeted floor. My cheek throbs and my head...fuck, it hurts. I cup my face, frightened shitless, suddenly thinking about Charlie. He never once hurt me. I remember when he said that I might be the only girl he won’t hit. Why the fuck am I thinking about that?