by Box Set
“What did it say, Charlie?” I ask, wishing I read it now. I should have kept it too, and then I could have looked over it when I felt numb and empty like I did only moments ago. It could have been my salvation.
“I wanted to see if you were okay,” he says, his voice soft like silk. “And I wanted to tell you that I'm in love with you, Blaire. So in love with you that I can't think of anything else since I sent you home.”
I'm wordless, choking up, barely tolerating the hit of his confession.
“You mean everything to me,” he says desperately. “I fucking miss you. I want you back.”
I whimper in my palm, my emotions imploding. I want to go back, too, but I know I can't, and the thought is like having my heart ripped out.
“Blaire, you still there?”
“Yeah,” I squeak out. Covering the speaker with one hand, I stifle back my tears.
“I'm sorry. I don't mean to upset you. I just need you to know that I want you more than anything, Blaire. I want you to come home to me.”
Home to him. Fuck, that hurts more than Maksim's torture.
“Where are you?” I ask to divert from my emotions because I cannot stand this chest crushing feeling.
“At the house,” he says. “Have you spoken to Maksim today?”
“No.” I shudder at the sound of Maksim's name. “I haven't seen him for a week.”
“Why do you sound like that?” he asks, and I hear a chair creaking, as if he's sitting forward. “Are you crying? Has that motherfucker hurt you?!”
“No,” I lie feebly, wiping my nose with the back of my hand. “I just miss you, is all,” I can't believe how easy it is to say that to him.
“Don't be upset over missing me, baby. Everything's gonna be all right.”
“It is?” I say, my stomach pooling with hope. I want to go to him. It's such a devastating need. I need him.
“Yeah, course it is. I'm sorting things. I promise.”
“Sorting what, Charlie?” I ask, but then my front door clicks open and I freeze.
34
Maksim, James, and a guy I don't recognize, pile up a whole bunch of duffle bags by my dining table.
A weak, shivery feeling washes over me.
One bag is open. There's a ton of money inside.
“Charlie”—I curve my hand over the speaker and whisper his name—“Maksim's here. I have to go.”
“No, Blaire, wait!”
I hang up on him and switch off my phone in case he tries to ring back, putting it down on one of the steps. I peer through the banister rails with fearful eyes, scanning the situation. Ten bags. I count as the pile gets higher, my eyes going back and forth. Twenty bags. Thirty bags. James and the other guy have to do a few runs downstairs, while Maksim wanders my apartment, his shoes delicately clinking against the marble floors. He's dressed in black slacks and a white shirt that's rolled up at the elbows, revealing a gold watch. He looks like he's ready for business.
As he passes by the staircase, not noticing me, I'm swamped with nerves, trying to figure out why he's here with all that money.
By the time James and the other guy are done running up and down like headless chickens, there are fifty bags piled around my dining table.
I want to go to James. He's the closest thing I have to safety right now.
“My Little Pet?” Maksim calls out from the kitchen area.
I cringe, trying to be as small as I can.
“You can leave.” He turns to James by the front door, his voice deceivingly gentle. “Wait for me in the car.”
“I don't mind staying, Cэp Maksim,” James says, I assume to make sure I'm okay. “I can—”
Maksim only has to give James an iron stare before James head-bows, casts a sneaky glance around my place, and then he's gone.
Shit. I don't want to be alone with Maksim right now. I'm in too much pain and terrified he's going to cause me more.
Maksim saunters through my personal space once more, into the living area, and then back out again. He stops at the bottom of the stairs this time, tips his head back and smiles up at me. “Ah, there you are,” he says, a cunning gleam in his golden eyes. “Are you going to come down and see me?”
I nod, then I struggle down the stairs, meeting him on the bottom step. I hug myself, shrinking.
“How are you feeling?” He cocks his head at me, reaches out and runs his fingers down a length of my hair.
“I'm okay.” I blink at the floor, unable to endure his wicked gaze.
“Ohhh, now, My Little Pet”—he tugs on the strand of hair—“don't lie to me.”
I cringe again, expecting a blow for lying. “I'm in a little pain, but I'll be okay,” I say softly, focusing on his shiny oxford shoes.
“Of course you will be okay. You're strong.” Taking my arm, he helps me hobble over to the dining table, where he insists I sit down next to the duffle bags.
Lowering onto a chair, I wince as my ass feels the pressure of the hard, flat surface, a jolt of pain shooting up my spine.
“Hurting?” Maksim says, amusement in his voice.
Distracted, I nod, peeking over the bags. There has to be millions here in crisp new notes.
“Do you know what this is all about?” Maksim pulls out a chair next to me, scraping it against the floor. “Do you know why I have so much cash?”
I peek up at him, taking a wild guess. “Charlie?”
He said he'd pay Maksim to set me free if he has to, and he's one of the few I know who would have access to this amount of money.
The way Maksim smiles at me makes my blood run cold.
“Clever little pet.” He takes one of my hands and holds it in his lap, occasionally squeezing me with long, cruel fingers. “He's paid me to tell you you're free.”
My eyes enlarge because there's negotiation in Maksim's voice, but then he gives me this surprised look and I glance away, trying to control the brewing of hope inside me.
“Is this what you want?” he asks, sounding strangely calm. “Do you want me to set you free?”
I shrug. It's all I have. I'm too nervous to say yes. I'm too nervous to tell him that I want to be with Charlie.
Tugging at my hand, making me whine out in pain, Maksim forces me to look up at him.
“Okay.” He nods a few times, turning my hand over so he can see the bite mark on my wrist. “You have two options.”
My heartbeat reaches its summit, pounding so hard that I'm sure he can hear it.
“Option one”—he looks up from my wounded arm, right into my eyes—“I'll set you free, but I want you first.”
I draw in my eyebrows, studying the expression on his face. Lust?
Does he mean?
Maksim leans closer to me, his soft, shoulder length hair just touching my face. Dropping my eyes to the floor, I sink into my shoulders. I know exactly what he means.
“I want to fuck you,” he whispers in my ear, confirming my suspicions.
I quiver as vulgar, disturbing images romp through my mind, the memory of him fucking me with such viciousness.
“I want to show you what you're walking away from, Blaire. I want to kiss every inch of you. Make love to you.” He pushes his other hand between my legs and cups my sex over my shorts, making me heave internally. “I want to make you feel good. Know once and for all how much I desire you.”
I can't take that deal. I can't even entertain it. Charlie won't want me if I'm tainted by Maksim, and I don't want to be on my own. I'd rather stay with Maksim than be alone.
I wait for Maksim to say, “Option two.” He pauses for a few seconds after, removing his hand from my sex.
I squeeze my thighs together. My toes curl with nerves.
“If you won't let me fuck you,” he says, “then you'll stay with me.”
Still with my eyes down, I whisper, “Okay.”
“Is that what you want, My Little Pet?” Leaning into me, he kisses the side of my face with suspicious affection, his cold lips chilling m
e from within. “Do you want to stay with me?”
“Sure I do,” I lie, squeezing my eyes shut.
He pulls on my hand again, urging me to face him properly, so I'm practically sitting between his legs. The movement emphasizes how tight and painful the skin on my back is, as well as how new the scabs are.
“Blaire,” he says my name, causing me to shrink away, “for us to go back to the way we were before Charlie, you have to get rid of him.”
I blink at Maksim as he sits back, my heart splitting in my chest. I don't want to tell Charlie to go, but if it means Maksim will be nice to me again, I'll do my best to achieve his objective.
“Charlie won't listen to me if I tell him to go, Cэp Maksim, but...I'll-I'll try.”
A smile, and then Maksim laughs. “No, My Little Pet. I want you to get rid of him.” He elongates rid. “You're the only person I know who can get close enough to slay him. So I urge you—”
“No!” I say too abruptly, too willingly, pushing to my feet. My body floods with pain, but I stand my ground. “I won't do that.” I point at Maksim, warning, “I won't kill Charlie.”
Just the thought of hurting Charlie makes me want to put a bullet in my head. I will if I ever feel the urge to hurt him.
To my utter surprise, Maksim doesn't look annoyed with me. He looks entertained with my daring.
“Then, I guess you'd better take your clothes off, my stunning little redhead, so we can say a proper goodbye.”
———
Maksim gets up from his chair and peels off my t-shirt. I look at the floor the entire time, as he pulls it up over my head, leaving me topless. I couldn't bear a bra when I dressed earlier. I'm in too much pain for anything tight to touch my back.
I descend into myself, hiding in my waist length hair that curtains my nudity, wishing this moment away.
“You know,” Maksim husks out, his vodka clinical breath blowing over my face, “you are a subjectively beautiful girl.” He pushes my hair out the way to kiss my neck, making me grimace. “But to me, you are the most stunning little thing.” His lips are affectionately inexperienced, rough and hurried as he pecks up my pulsing vein. His kiss makes me think of the way Charlie kissed me, how he took his time when he caressed me, made every touch count, every action executed with tenderness. I never truly understood his attention to detail before today.
I'm not sure I can do this.
“Do you want me to make love to you?” Maksim runs his teeth over my collarbone, sending some horrible vibes through me. “Then you can decide between Charlie and me. For the first time ever, you can choose your own path.”
Brutal silence, and I'm mentally trying to block out his closeness. But then he asks, “Or do you want me to fuck you the way I've wanted to fuck you since I first saw you as a little girl?”
I try to speak. No. I don't want either offer. While my lips move, words don't come out. I'm silently paralyzed with what's happening.
Maksim grabs a clump full of my hair and tugs my head back. He then licks up the center of my throat until he's sucking my chin, his saliva trailing my flesh.
I shut my eyes, trying to deal with this, but then Maksim thumbs the waist of my sports shorts and I can't take anymore.
“I don't want this, Cэp Maksim,” I say with a sob. “Can't we just go back to—”
“It's either this,” he cuts me off, sharpening his teeth on my jaw line, “or you will end Charlie Decena. You choose.”
I press my lips together, suppressing the urge to fight Maksim off my body. I've never felt the urge to fight Maksim before. It's an alien emotion but powerful on another level. Inside, I'm shaking with panic. I just don't feel like I'm his anymore.
Maksim slips into the front of my shorts, his dusty arm chafing against my abdomen. He finds my sex with coarse fingers. My stomach rolls with dread. I squeeze my ass cheeks together, enhancing the pain inside for a moment. Then my senses narrow as I feel a single finger being pushed in me, sliding through my folds with violent force.
“No!” I scream, smashing my fists against his chest, forcing him back a step.
The tension skyrockets, our eyes narrowing in on each other’s.
“You won't let me have you?!” Maksim yells, his eyes glowing like golden balls of fire. “Nor will you get rid of Charlie?!”
“No,” I say in defiance. “I won't do either.” For the first time in my life, I look right at him with reprisal, balling my hands at my sides. “You don't give a shit about me!” I shout at the top of my lungs, but the effort tires me out. “All you want to do is hurt me.” My words come out weaker now, as I stagger back to rest against the wall for support, putting my hands on my knees. “I don't want you to hurt me anymore, Maksim. I just want it all to stop.”
“It is Cэp Maksim to you,” he says, appalled. “And that's not your decision to make. You're mine to do with as I see fit.”
It's a feeble attempt, but I shake my head. “I'm not yours anymore.” As I say that, his face changes. “You made sure of it when you handed me over to Charlie. A man who has been kind and caring to me. Who made sure I was happy. Why couldn't you ever be kind to me, or even James?” It's like being punched in the chest as I think about my friend, and what he's been through in aid to protect me. “We've given you our all and what we haven't, you've taken anyway.”
Maksim grinds his jaw, furious, standing there in the middle of my whitewashed apartment.
“Please, Cэp Maksim”—hot tears flood my eyes as I stare at him, the back of my nose tickling to cry—“tell me why you couldn't be kind to me at least. I need to know.”
We look at each other, predator against predator. I'd tear him apart if it really boiled down to it, but he knows my subconscious won't allow me to. Or maybe he doesn't. He looks uncertain.
“Tell me,” I whisper, my voice cracking. “Tell me. Please?”
“Because...” he's not sure what to say for a second. Then, “Because I knew the moment someone tapped into your emotions”—he lifts a finger to me—“you'd be lost to me.”
“What?” My face twists with perplexity. “But that doesn't even make sense.”
“Oh, it does, My Little Pet,” he husks out, deceivingly calmer now. “I don't think you quite realize what you're capable of. I don't think you realize how important it is to keep you emotionless. To keep you totally loyal to me. I need you, Blaire.” His finger circles my frame, emphasizing me. “I trust no one else.”
“But-but I'm not emotionless,” I say, sure that I'm not. “I've always cared about you.”
“Because that's all I've ever allowed you to feel.”
I sob, staring at him through watery eyes. It's now obvious that I could have felt more in my life, been more than what I am, and he stole it all from me.
“Why?” I say, and he hesitates a second time, so I yell, “Why?!”
“I couldn't risk unleashing your emotions,” he says with no shame, shrugging. “You have to understand. You are so powerful with your Chinese combat skills and your technology skills, if you ever truly understood your merits on the level that we do, and learned how to be a leader, you'd realize you don't need me. Tatiana wouldn't need me. She'd just want you.”
I let my head drop forward and cry quietly, gripping my knees with my nails.
“I did want to be kind to you, Blaire,” he says, and he swears it, holding out his hands like he's praying for forgiveness. “But I'm not that sort of man—I hunger for darker things—and I knew that if I ever did have you, if I tried to sexually bond us, I'd unleash your deepest desires as a woman and you would have longed for that sort of affection, affection I can never give you. You'd have left to find something more, as all women do. Women need to feel love once they've had a taste of it. So keeping that sentiment dormant in you was my best option at ensuring you were always mine. And I'm not sorry.”
Looking up, I shake my head at him and something in me—my loyalty to him—splinters, because it all makes sense now. The beatings to ensure I wa
s frightened of him. The isolated sexual abuse to connect us on a semblance of an emotional level, as he promised that I was the only one he truly wanted those moments with. Everyone else was just a fuck because he didn't want to rape me. The mental conditioning so I was only able to think of him. His voice in my dreams. The fear that there's nothing else out there without him. The darkness and the coldness that I think was my captivity, which forced me to rely on him for basic things like shelter and warmth.
It was all for his own selfishness.
Charlie understood. That's why he's been slowly breaking me down to gain my trust. Why he's been doing his best to peel away each of my layers with kindness. He knew I'd never felt kindness before. It's the only thing that would have ever worked on me.
“And James?” I say to Maksim, wiping my running nose with the back of my hand as I stand up straight. “Why have you always been so cruel to him?”
Maksim lifts his shoulders, a merciless display. “I just don't love him.”
Poor James. My heart breaks for him.
In emotional misery, I hug my breasts to hide my nudity, feeling too exposed. He’s ripped out my soul and swallowed it whole, so I’ll be damned if I’ll just stand here naked and let him look at me.
“I can approach your conditioning from a different direction,” he says with a hint of panic, using his hands as a talking point. “We can go back to the way we were. Nothing has to change. Not really.”
The audacity of him.
“Where did you take me from?” I say with pure hatred. “I know for sure you didn't buy me from a guy in Russia.”
He chuckles suddenly, like he can't believe I've just asked that, his face lighting up with impressed amusement. “You're resourceful when I'm not around, aren't you, My Little Pet?”
I say nothing. I just stand here cuddling my nudity.
“The IRA was recruiting child geniuses”—he leisurely steps toward me, one hand in his trouser pocket—“so they created a few cryptic puzzles that were sent out nationally in magazines. Your parents let you have a go at them and posted off your results.” From walking toward me, he changes pattern and wanders from left to right, appearing to be deep in thought. I am in deep thought too. I can’t believe I’m Irish. I’ve always believed I was Russian.