Chapter 3 Maxim
MAXIM
We’ve arrived in Sardinia, and I head down to get the girl to transport her to my home before delivering her to Dmitri.
I open the cabin door, and my jaw hits the floor.
What the fuck has she done to the room? It’s destroyed, every single item has been ripped out, every mirror smashed, and all the pillows ripped apart. It’s a complete mess.
I’m impressed. Destroying your captor’s luxury boat is probably not the best way to survive, but it is a giant finger to them.
The girl has balls, big ones, I’ve held many a captive on this boat, some of the most feared men of the underworld, and none of them and I mean none of them have the balls to do what she’s just done.
I spot her amongst the carnage in a crumpled mess, covered in blood and white feathers like a fallen angel.
Her blonde hair is wet and she’s shivering, yet her body has tiny beads of sweat all over it.
Her face is pale, and her eyes aren’t focused.
Is she sick? The smell of vomit filters in from the bathroom.
“Holy shit,” Sergei comments behind me. He looks around the room, then chuckles as well. Sergei then takes a couple of steps into the room to stare down at her. “Is she seasick?”
I shake my head, it’s the reason we were able to snatch her. Hugo was delivering her something, drugs of some kind but I never cared to ask him what it was.
“Wake up,” I call out, nudging her with my boot.
She groans and curls up into a ball.
“Woman, are you on any medication?” I ask, again nudging her with my boot to wake her up.
“Fuck.” Sergei rakes his hand through his gray hair.
“I think she’s withdrawing.”
“From what?”
“Don’t fucking know, but I think she might be a drug addict.”
Sergei frowns. “Dmitri never said anything about that. A jewel can’t be a drug addict, I thought.”
I give him a look as if to say, I think maybe being a jewel is what
made her an addict.
“Shit, we aren’t prepared for this. We need to get her out of here,” Sergei grumbles. He leaves to plan how to transport her back to our home on the outskirts of San Gimignano in Tuscany.
I stare down at this shell of a woman, and I’m confused by her.
All the stories I’ve heard about the jewels include how much they adore being a jewel.
That girls are desperate to be one of the elite women for the Bratva.
They get to wear designer clothes and earn large amounts of cash.
They have the most powerful men in the world falling at their feet, which gives them power, like modern-day courtesans.
They always described the jewels as loving sex, as if they are nymphomaniacs.
It’s a great privilege to be a jewel from what I have heard.
“What happened to you?” I mumble, crouching down to dust off shards of glass and feathers from her frail body.
She doesn’t move, she doesn’t fight me. Most women in this situation would have their guard up and not be completely comatose.
It’s as if mentally she’s given up. The destruction of the bedroom, her last bit of rebellion before her mind says I can’t take it anymore.
Is that why she’s taking drugs? Was she not strong enough for the jewels?
The fluorescent numbers on my watch tell me it’s getting late.
We should hurry before it gets too dark otherwise the helicopter won’t be able to land at my estate.
Reaching out, I pick her lifeless body up and carry her back through the boat, up the stairs, careful not to hit her head, through the stateroom, and out onto the deck.
The staff is paid well to stay silent. They are also people I have known for a long time, trustworthy people.
Also, my reputation precedes me, and they know not to double-cross me as I don’t take too kindly to people I trust turning on me. None see the light of day ever again.
Sergei is waiting at the end of the dock with a Jeep for us.
Placing her body into the back seat of the Jeep, I secure a seatbelt around her stomach hoping it’s enough for her not to faceplant into the back of my seat.
Sergei gives me a concerned look as I take a seat next to him before putting the Jeep into gear and speeding off to the heliport.
Twenty minutes later, we arrive, and I pick her up like she’s a sack of potatoes and carry her toward our helicopter.
Sergei takes the pilot’s seat and starts his preflight checks.
While I try and maneuver the woman into the seat, every part of her is floppy, making it hard to get her belted in.
Her head lulls to the side and smacks the glass with a thud.
She lets out a groan but doesn’t open her eyes.
Shit. I try to sit her back up, but she slides down again thankfully, this time not smacking her head.
I run around to the other side and jump in.
Securing myself first, I wrap my arm around the woman letting her rest her head on my shoulder instead.
She mumbles a bit but snuggles into me, her warm breath slides over my skin, and for some odd reason, sets my body on fire.
It’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid.
My body thinks because it’s in the presence of a beautiful woman it’s go-time.
It most definitely is not go-time nor will it ever be with her.
An hour and a half later, we land at my villa in Tuscany, high on a mountain with nothing but country roads, vineyards, and quiet surrounding it, perfect for an international hitman to hide out.
Sergei has his own villa nestled further down in the vineyards.
I was thinking about setting the woman up in the cellar, but even I’m not that cruel, not when she is suffering so much.
Also, I have hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of wine down there, I do not need them destroyed.
Sergei organizes one of the never used guest suites for her. There’s a stunning view over the rolling hills from her balcony when she wakes. She will have her own ensuite, too. Fingers crossed she doesn’t destroy this one.
“She’s covered in glass, Max, she needs to be cleaned up. I don’t want her sleeping in that filth,” Sergei tells me as he moves into her ensuite and turns the shower on. He plays with the temperature getting it right, once he’s satisfied, he steps away. “I’ll leave you to it.”
“What do you expect me to do?” I ask him.
“Throw her into the shower, clean her up.”
I turn, looking at the crumpled woman on the floor.
“You want me to wash her?”
Sergei rolls his eyes. “I’m not about to fucking do it.”
“She can do it when she wakes up,” I argue.
“We may be villains, but we can still have compassion, Maxim.”
It’s like being scolded by my father. He’s right. He always is.
“Fine.”
Sergei smirks and leaves me with the girl.
“You have become a lot of trouble, little one,” I grumble as I begin to strip off, leaving my black boxer briefs on.
Crouching over her lifeless body, I stare trying to work out where to start.
My hand finds the zip in the back and pulls it down exposing her tanned skin.
Then I slide the straps over her body and expose her white lace underwear.
Do not look, Maxim. Be a fucking gentleman.
She has no shoes on, she seems to have lost them along the way.
I pick her up and take her body to the now steam-filled bathroom.
I sit her on the marble seat in the shower and play with the shower head so that it is focused on her. My eyes dip down and notice her underwear is completely see-through. Dammit. My dick twitches. Now is not the time. It will never be the time when it comes to this woman.
“What the?” she splutters when the water hits her face.
“You have glass all over you,” I tell her.
Hearing my voice, she stills, those jade-green eyes widening as she focuses on me. Her eyes then travel down the path of my nearly naked body, over my chest, down my abs until she lands on my dick.
“Get away from me!” she screams.
I hold my hands up, showing her I mean no harm, but her fear is
palpable.
“I was trying to help.”
“In your fucking underwear,” she curses at me.
“You messed up the cabin on my boat. You were bleeding,” I explain.
She shakes her head as though disbelieving what I’m saying. “If
you’re going to kill me, please do it now. I don’t want to live anymore.”
Her words hit me right in the chest.
For the first time in all my years of killing people, her fear affects me.
“I’m not going to kill you,” I say slowly, quietly.
“Why?” she asks as her eyes dart around, looking for an escape. The only way out is behind me, but I’m blocking her path.
“That’s not the job.”
Her eyes narrow. “But kidnapping me was?”
I nod, not going to lie to her.
“You’re fucking despicable.” She spits at me, those jade-green eyes all fire and hate.
This once frail woman is turning into a ball of anger.
“I am,” I say, agreeing with her.
Her eyes narrow on me, disbelieving that I would agree with her.
“Now we have my personality trait out of the way, you need to get cleaned up.”
She crosses her arms over her chest as if hiding her perfect curves from my eyes.
I’ll give Dmitri this, her photos on his phone don’t do her justice. She’s gorgeous up this close. Long black lashes, freckles scattered across her slim nose, and rosy-red lips that are plump and perfect. I shake my head, the mental images that are beginning to percolate in my mind aren’t right.
Her eyes drift over my body for a couple of moments before quickly turning away.
I know I look good. Hours working at the gym, then hours working out on various self-defense and martial arts, has given me a body that I’m proud of.
“Fuck you!”
I smile. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Flirting, really, Maxim?
“I’m going to kill you.” She spits.
“I look forward to that day, Wildcat, but right now you need to get cleaned up. Then you’re going to tell me what drugs you’ve been taking.”
Her eyes widen in surprise.
“The withdrawal you’ve started is a dead giveaway.
I’m not going to lie, the next couple of days are going to suck even more than being kidnapped.
I’m sure you’ll be begging me to kill you again and again or pleading with me to give you one last taste of your drug of choice.
I’m going to tell you now—I won’t. You need to get off whatever you’ve been using and deal with your situation.
Because you’re going to need to be sober to deal with what’s happening to you. ”
She launches herself at me which catches me off-guard as it’s so unexpected.
She’s pushed me up against the tiled wall of the shower, she’s all slippery so it’s hard to get a good grip on her.
She then knees me in the groin, and the pain hits me like a freight train as my stomach somersaults, but I’ve learned over the years to push through that kind of pain because it will always be the first action someone does when attacked.
Then she swings an elbow at my face just missing my nose.
How the hell does she know these defensive moves? Someone with great skill has been teaching her.
She then digs her nails into my skin before biting my bicep.
Motherfucker, that hurts, and I release her for a moment.
She thinks she’s going to escape as she turns on her heels and rushes out of the shower stall.
I let her run, she won’t get far.
And she doesn’t as she slips on the tiled floor, her body crashing down with a thud. She curses before scrambling to get up and running again.
I take my time getting out of the shower and turning it off. I prowl after her into the bedroom.
She’s grabbed her dress from the floor and is holding it against her like a shield, those green eyes flicking around the room looking for the exit.
We both notice the bedroom door open at the same time. She bolts for it, but I’m quicker, and my legs are longer as I reach it first, shutting it, locking it.
She runs directly into my chest and hits me full force almost winding me.
“You motherfucking asshole, let me go,” she screams at me as her fists pound against my chest. She knows she is trapped, I can see the panic on her face.
I’m going to have bruises tomorrow.
Then she bolts away from me again before I have a chance to get a grip on her.
She’s fucking slippery. The stupid woman jumps up onto the bed thinking it’s the best place to hide.
She’s wrong. I stalk toward her then lunge, catching her leg as she tries to jump off the bed.
Half her body hits the floor with a thud, and she lets out a groan, but I have her ankle.
I pull her back onto the bed.
She’s kicking and screaming, fighting me, but I can take it.
I cage her in, my heavy body pressed against her soft curves.
“Are you going to rape me?”
I still. “Never. Why the hell would you think that?”
She just laughs manically. “You’re one of Dmitri’s men, of course you will, it’s in your DNA. Just like it’s in his.”
I jump off her immediately. “I don’t rape women.” I may be a lot of things, but I’m not a rapist. I don’t need to force myself on a woman to have sex.
She rolls onto her back and props herself up on her elbows. “Well, then, you would be the first man I’ve met who doesn’t,” she sneers.
“Fucking clean yourself up and rest. We’ll be on the move again tomorrow,” I tell her, ignoring the insult.
“Whatever,” she says, rolling her eyes.
I make my way to the bedroom door where I open and slam it shut in frustration at her and the fucking situation I find myself in.