Chapter 11 Grace
GRACE
Last night I was so far gone in my panic attack that it took me all night to get back to the real world.
I spent an hour in the shower earlier scrubbing off the feeling of Dmitri and those men touching me, my skin is rubbed raw, but I feel semi-normal again.
Maxim didn’t come to my room last night, nor do I blame him.
Dmitri’s evilness ruined what should have been a magical moment.
I need to find Maxim and reassure him that it wasn’t him that hurt me, that I was so far gone in my nightmare that reality and the past were blurring together, and I couldn’t work out what was real and what wasn’t.
I know it wasn’t his fault, and I need to make sure he’s okay because I wasn’t able to communicate that to him and he probably thinks he was the one hurting me. If I know him like I feel like I do, he will be cut up about what happened and will be blaming himself. I can’t let him think he hurt me.
Getting dressed into a white sundress, I head downstairs to find Maxim and grab some food because all this trauma is making me hungry.
When I enter the breakfast room, I’m greeted by the chef, not Maxim who would normally be there.
Singing away at the cooktop in his sweatpants with no shirt on, his dark hair all messy from sleep as he cooks me breakfast.
“Buongiorno, signora, what would you like for breakfast?” the chef asks.
He’s new. I’ve never seen him before, but I don’t remember who the chef was before Maxim sent him away so that he could cook for me. I shake my head. “Have you seen Maxim?”
“No, he has not been downstairs this morning.”
“Thanks,” I say as I leave the kitchen. Where the hell is he? Is he okay? I’m getting worried. I move down the corridor and try all the rooms downstairs. I check the library, the games room, the sitting room, and the lounge room, but they are all empty.
An unease begins to settle in my stomach as I continue to search for him.
I check the pool. When he’s stressed, Maxim does laps, like me.
But the pool area is empty. Where the hell is he?
Maybe he’s asleep still as I’m sure he would have been up for hours pacing, his fingers running through his dark locks as he punishes himself for thinking he’s hurt me.
Rushing back up the grand staircase, I check the room next to mine.
Pushing open the door, I thank goodness it’s unlocked as I peer into the room, but it’s empty.
The bed is made, the curtains are open, and I can smell the faintest hint of his aftershave, but there’s no Maxim.
Where the hell is he? Worry gnaws at my insides as I head back downstairs to his office.
It’s the last place to look. If he isn’t there then he’s gone.
That thought makes me sick, I don’t want him to have left.
I need him here, near me. He promised he would protect me.
That I would be safe. How can I be if he isn’t here?
Rushing back down the staircase, getting in my cardio this morning, I head down the corridor toward his office. The door is slightly ajar, and I push it open, hoping to surprise Maxim.
It’s empty.
Panic worms its way across my chest as I stare at the empty room.
Where the hell are you, Maxim? Paperwork on his desk catches my attention, and I sift through it hoping he’s popped to the shop or run an errand.
But all the papers are invoices for wine.
Then I pull open his drawers and start searching in them, not sure what I’m looking for and not taking in anything that I do see until my hand hits something hard.
It’s an old photo frame and inside it is a photo of Maxim with his arm around two gorgeous girls.
They look younger than him, but they both have the same inky black hair as he does.
Bringing the photo closer, I realize one of the girls looks familiar.
My eyes narrow, my hands start to shake as I stare at the girl in the photo. This can’t be. I don’t understand.
How the hell does Maxim know Emerald?
Taking a seat as my legs shake, I stare at the photo of one of the jewels who was Dmitri’s favorite.
She had more freedom than all of us combined, even Zoe.
She was Dmitri and Nikolai’s little lap dog, jumping anytime they needed her.
She was never whipped or beaten and got the best clothes, specially designed or chosen for her.
She never shared a room with any of the other girls and she didn’t even have to sleep with some of the men.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” Sergei asks.
So lost in my thoughts that his voice startles me, I drop the photo frame onto the desk, thankfully not cracking it. He doesn’t look happy seeing me in Maxim’s office alone.
“I’m looking for Maxim.”
His eyes land on the photo frame. “You’re not going to find him in his desk drawers, are you?”
This doesn’t look good. “Where is he? We need to talk.”
Sergei’s eyes narrow on me. “He’s not here.”
“When will he be back?”
“I don’t know,” he says gruffly, folding his arms across his chest.
“Can you call him? It’s urgent.”
“No. I can’t.”
“You don’t understand. I need him,” I plead with the old man.
“Might be good if the two of you have some space, don’t you agree?” he states.
Obviously, Sergei and Maxim talk. I don’t think he is his father as they look nothing alike, but he is a father figure to him. Is he his boss? Partner? Bodyguard? Friend?
“Have you spoken to him this morning then?”
He nods.
“Was he okay?”
Sergei shakes his head, indicating no.
Shit.
“If you speak to him before me. I need you to tell him last night wasn’t his fault.
I had a panic attack. Some PTSD shit happened at the wrong moment, and I need Maxim to know it wasn’t his fault,” I explain to him, my cheeks burning with embarrassment that I’m explaining to Sergei that it wasn’t Maxim’s fault that I freaked out during sex last night.
“I will pass on the message,” he says coldly.
“I wasn’t snooping I promise,” I tell him.
Sergei shrugs, but his eyes are still narrowed on me, and I know he doesn’t believe me.
“Who’s Elena?”
Sergei stills but doesn’t say anything.
“Was she an ex? Did she die? Did Maxim kill her?”
“Maxim did not kill Elena,” Sergei states, raising his voice.
Judging by that reaction, Elena is dead, but thankfully, Maxim didn’t kill her.
“He had a nightmare about her yesterday by the pool.”
Sergei sighs as he leans against the door. “Elena is, was his sister.”
Oh.
Then my heart breaks remembering how he told me he lost his other sister to drugs.
“She wasn’t an addict like Alexandria?”
Sergei’s eyes widen. “He told you about her?”
“Briefly, he explained why he helped me get off drugs.”
He nods in understanding. “I didn’t realize how much he had told you about his personal life.”
“Because I’m just a job?”
His eyes fall back onto the photo frame. “You should put that photo of his sisters away before he gets home. It will only cause him more pain seeing it.”
Everything in me stills. The photo of his sisters. He just said they were both dead. But I know that girl in the photo is alive, at least she was a few months ago. She looks older than she does in this photo, but I still know it’s her.
“How long have his sisters been dead?” I ask as my heart begins to beat crazy wild in my chest because something isn’t adding up.
“Does it matter?” he answers curtly.
“Please, Sergei.”
“Alexandria died five years ago, and for Elena, it’s been four,” he replies.
Wait, four years? No. That can’t be right. She was alive and well months ago. “You sure it’s been four years?”
Sergei frowns at me. “Of course I am. It was the same night I lost my own daughter, they were best friends.”
Oh, shit. He lost his daughter. Is she alive too? I need to speak to Maxim because none of this is adding up.
“I really need to speak to Maxim, please.”
“I told you no. Maxim’s on a job. He’ll be back in a week.” Sergei bites out.
On a job as in he’s off killing someone.
My mind’s finding it hard to put the two together.
Maxim the killer and Maxim the captor as the same person.
That’s stupid, Grace. He ruthlessly kidnapped you.
Remember the bomb strapped to Donny and the gun they pointed at Hugo’s head.
Don’t forget how they beat Gabriel up. So much has happened since that night. It feels like a lifetime ago.
“Did you kill those people you kidnapped with me?”
“No,” Sergei answers sternly.
“Was Gabriel okay after you hurt him?”
Sergei shrugs. “Yes, from our reports he has healed well.”
“And you strapped a bomb to Donny. He probably has PTSD from that night.”
Sergei huffs. “The bomb wasn’t real. Anyway, those two little fuckers needed a lesson to stop selling drugs to people.”
The bomb wasn’t real.
“Any more questions for me? Or has your interrogation finished?” he asks.
I thought Sergei was the nicer of the two, he was when I first arrived, but today, I’m seeing a different side to him. You were caught snooping in Maxim’s things. This is true. Okay, I’ll let his attitude slide then.
“I have one last question,” I say to him, raising a brow.
Sergei seems surprised by my comment as his fingers drum across his tanned forearms impatiently.
“Why is one of Maxim’s sisters a jewel?”
Sergei stills and his face pales at my question. “What the hell did you say?”
Picking up the photo frame, I turn it around and point to Emerald in the photo. “This girl here. I knew her as Emerald. We met briefly. She was close with Dmitri and Nikolai.”
Sergei stumbles back as if my words sucker-punched him.
“What the hell are you saying, woman. That girl is Elena, and she is dead. She and my daughter drowned in the Atlantic Ocean during a party. They are not alive. How could you be so fucking cruel after everything Maxim has done for you? I was on your side, I wanted you to get better so you could go home to your family one day. And now, you repay our kindness like this,” he screams at me before launching into explosive Russian.
Sergei is scary as the anger explodes out of him and directly at me.
“I’m telling you the truth. If you don’t believe me, contact my sister Zoe. She had more to do with Emerald than I ever did.”
“This is a cruel trick to play to get you home. You’re lucky that Maxim is away and asked me to stay and protect you, otherwise, I would be putting a fucking bullet through your head for talking this way about the dead.”
My hand shakes as I hold the photo frame. I can see how serious Sergei is. He would put a bullet in me if he hadn’t promised Maxim.
“I’m telling you the truth. This woman here is Emerald. She works closely with Dmitri and Nikolai,” I explain again. I know I’m right.
Sergei pauses then the next thing I know he is pulling out a gun and positioning it on me.
Oh shit. He’s going to kill me. I instantly drop the photo frame and hold my hands up.
“Who the fuck do you think you are to play jokes on us like this.”
“I’m not. I promise you. I’m telling you the truth.” I sob, waiting for his finger to slip and a bullet to pierce my skull. There’s no way in hell Sergei would miss.
Sergei puts his gun down and then slides it away. “I needed to know if you were telling the truth. I’m sorry I had to do that.”
He’s what? As my body collapses and falls back into Maxim’s office chair, I clutch my chest as my heart is ready to explode. I probably need a change of underwear too.
“You seriously know this woman? You’re not mistaking her for someone else?” Sergei questions me.
“Why would I make this up?”
“People say and do anything to save themselves,” Sergei adds.
“You think I’m making this up to save myself. There are a million and one other stories I could have come up with to save myself. I could have just slept with Maxim last night. So many things I could do and this is not one of them,” I scream at him.
Sergei is quiet as tension swirls between the two of us. “I believe you,” he says quietly.
He believes me. After putting me through hell he believes me. Picking up a bronzed globe on Maxim’s desk, I throw it at the wall beside Sergei’s head.
He doesn’t even flinch.
“You fucking believe me now? After pulling a gun on me?” I yell at this man.
“Had to be sure,” he states as if it’s no big deal.
Maybe in his world, it isn’t, but in mine it is. That is not how you communicate with people.
“Why don’t you call your friend, Dmitri. He would confirm the existence of Emerald.”
“That man is not my friend,” Sergei says, pointing his finger at me.
“She is certainly his friend,” I bite back.
Sergei then reaches for his pocket again, and I flinch, waiting for a gun to be pulled on me again. When I look back, he has pulled out his wallet and shows me a photo of him with a beautiful blonde woman with ice-blue eyes on his arm.
“This is my daughter Anna. She was Elena’s best friend. They did everything together. Was she there? Did you see her?” he asks, shoving the crumpled photo in my face.
Taking it, I examine the photo, but she doesn’t ring a bell. “I never saw her.”
Sergei’s shoulders slump. “Are you sure?”
“I don’t know her, but Zoe might. She was there a lot longer than I was. You need to take me home so we can find your daughter.”
Sergei’s eyes narrow on me before snatching the photo from my hand. “Do not use my daughter as an escape plan,” he warns.
“I wasn’t,” I protest, but I know it’s no good as Sergei doesn’t trust me anymore. Finding me in Maxim’s office hasn’t landed me any favors with the old man. “Are you going to tell Maxim?”
Sergei shakes his head. “Not yet. He must concentrate on his job. Then when he comes home, I will tell him.”
“What about Dmitri? He knows who Emerald is. She’s very close to him. She’s not like the other girls.”
“In what way?”
“She can pick and choose her men. Nikolai and Dmitri treated her like a Queen. She was more like a friend than a kidnapped woman.”
Sergei frowns. “That doesn’t sound like Elena. She would never act that way if she saw injustice, she would fight for it.”
“Maybe you don’t know her anymore.”
“Maxim will kill you if you speak ill of his sister,” Sergei warns me.
“He needs to know the truth. She isn’t an innocent bystander,” I argue back with him.
“When the time is right, I will talk to him. Now, you need to get the hell out of his office,” Sergei states.