Chapter 14 Grace
GRACE
Oh shit.
“It can wait till tomorrow. You must be tired from, like, killing people and surviving gun fights and things.”
Maxim sits up on the kitchen counter, and those dark eyes stare down at me. “We have a lot to talk about you and me.”
Yeah, I guess we do. If only the problems between us were that I freaked out when we tried to have sex, not that your sister has come back from the dead and is working with my worst enemy. The man that wants me dead or worse, sold.
“You must be hungry. I can make us some supper,” I say, stalling.
“I’ll do that for you, Grace. Why don’t you take Max into the living room and sit and talk? You have much to catch up on.”
My eyes narrow on the old man, and he gives me a satisfied grin.
Fine. I reach out and help Maxim down from the kitchen bench and walk him into the living room.
I know he can walk, but I don’t know how much blood he may have lost or if that whiskey went straight to his head.
I help get him comfortable on the sofa and take a seat in the armchair beside him.
“I’m sorry, Grace.” Maxim surprises me with his apology.
Looking over at where he is laid out against the chair, his enormous body takes up the entire sofa as he stares at me intensely with those dark eyes.
The man’s been shot, Grace, throw him a bone.
Getting up from the armchair, I move over to his side of the sofa and take a seat beside him.
I take his large hand and connect it with mine as I sit cross-legged beside him.
“You don’t need to apologize, Max. I thought I was ready.
I wanted to replace all the other stuff with your touch.
I was sick of feeling those men on my skin every day. ”
“I thought you thought I was like them,” he says, letting a slither of vulnerability through.
“Never. You are nothing like those men.”
“I’m still the bad guy, Grace.”
“Just not in my story, Max.”
He gives me a lopsided grin.
“In that moment I had flashbacks. They felt so real, and I couldn’t escape them. I’d been working with a therapist, and I thought I had put my trauma behind me. You’ve been the first guy since …” I tell him as I stare down at our hands linked together.
“Wildcat, I had no idea,” he says, tugging my hand to get my attention.
“I wanted to be okay. I wanted you to be the first since it all … but it seems that I couldn’t.”
“You never have to explain yourself over that,” he says as his thumb caresses my hand.
I give him a small smile. It feels right, him being back with me again. I’m surprised at how much I’ve missed him this week. How much this villa is starting to feel like home.
“I missed you, Grace.”
I look up and see the sincerity in his dark eyes.
“You did? Even after I treated you horribly.”
“Hey. I will not hear you say that about what happened. It wasn’t your fault,” he tells me sternly.
“I missed you, too.”
Maxim’s head lulls back as a wide smile falls across his handsome face. He then brings my hand to his lips, kisses it, and his eyes close.
“Max. Hey, Max. Come to bed, it’s late. You don’t want to sleep down here on the sofa.”
Maxim sits up and blinks a couple of times. He shakes his head as if trying to clear it. “Yeah, I think I might head to bed.”
Helping him up, we walk arm in arm through the corridor toward the grand staircase.
We slowly take each step as I’m worried he will lose his balance and fall back down them.
We turn, and I head toward his bedroom, he probably wants to sleep there tonight.
Walking in, I pull back his sheets and fluff his pillow for him.
“You need to get changed. You can have a shower in the morning.”
He nods like a rag doll as he sits on the edge of his bed.
I grab his gray sweats and place them down beside him on the bed.
I kneel and begin to undo his shoes, sliding them off then unbuckle his belt and help pull his gray suit pants off him.
My heart acerates as I am face to face with his dick which is hidden behind black boxer briefs.
“Here, first leg through,” I tell him as he slides one leg through and then the other. He then falls back against the bed. “You’re going to make this hard for me, aren’t you? I can’t lift you.” I groan as I try and lift the rest of him onto the bed.
Maxim groans but soon picks himself up and slides onto the bed properly before getting under the covers. “I wish you could stay,” he mumbles.
“You want me to stay with you?”
He nods. “I never want to let you go, Wildcat.”
Oh.
“Let me go get my pajamas and I’ll come back.”
“No,” he calls out with a groan. “Grab one of my shirts. I love seeing you in my shirts.” Next thing I know, Maxim is snoring away.
He wants me to wear his tee, this is so cute.
How could I ever believe this man would hurt me, not after everything we’ve been through together.
I grab one of his plain white shirts, take off my sundress, and slip on the shirt.
Then I creep back into his bedroom and slide in under the covers.
It doesn’t take long for my eyes to flutter shut because I’ve had trouble sleeping since Maxim left, nightmares have been plaguing my dreams. I’m hoping tonight I will have my first good night’s sleep this week.
“Did you tell him?” Sergei asks, finding me in the kitchen where I’ve decided to make pancakes and a fresh pot of coffee for Maxim.
“It wasn’t the right time.”
“It wasn’t the right time to tell him his sister is alive?” Sergei questions me.
“Maxim was shot. He could have died.”
Sergei tsks me. “It was a flesh wound, nothing more. It’s just another scar to add to his collection.”
“Sorry, I’m not used to this life. Usually, I’m on the other side of the law.”
“What the hell are you two bickering about this morning?” Maxim asks, walking into the kitchen dressed in just his gray sweats that hang low exposing the deep v of his hips.
“Nothing,” I answer.
“Something,” Sergei adds.
Maxim looks between the two of us. “Spit it out.”
“Pancakes?” I ask, raising the plate of the fluffy creations toward him.
Maxim grunts and grabs a couple from the stack I made while I push a glass of espresso in front of him. “Are you buttering me up, Grace?”
“Good to see you made it through the night, Max. I have things to do,” Sergei says before shooting me a glare as he walks out of the room.
“That’s the second time he has left the room and pressured you to talk to me about something. What happened between the two of you?”
How do I explain that entire mess with Sergei?
“Last week, I came downstairs in the morning looking for you. I wanted to apologize because I knew my rejection had hurt you.”
“I told you that you didn’t need to,” he states, shoving a pancake into his wide mouth.
“Hold that thought. I’ll be back in a sec,” I tell him as I rush out of the kitchen and down the hall to his office. I need to explain with the photo, that is the only way it will make sense. I open the drawer on Maxim’s desk and find the photo frame.
“What the hell are you doing in my office?” Maxim asks his voice as deep as thunder.
“Shit, I told you to wait,” I say, dropping the photo frame on the desk.
“Where the hell did you find that?” he asks, snatching the frame from the desk and holding it close to his chest.
“I came looking for you that morning after everything, but I couldn’t find you.”
“And you think I would fit into a fucking drawer? “His lip curls up in a snarl.
“Of course not, I just thought—”
“Thought what? I don’t understand why you needed to go through my personal items to find me. This is why Sergei is upset with you. He found you in here, didn’t he?”
My shoulders sink, this conversation is taking a huge left turn. I didn’t think he would get that upset about it. Guess I was wrong.
“Were you hoping to find something to use against me so I would let you go?”
I shake my head. “No, no! Of course not.”
“Were you trying to find information about Dmitri? Seeing as he was the one that hired me to kidnap you.”
That was low. I can feel the panic beginning to rise through my body just at the mention of his name. Then everything stills. “Have you spoken to Dmitri since I’ve been here?”
“Don’t change the subject, Grace.”
“Answer me, Maxim,” I shout at him as my hands shake beside me.
“Once.”
“Once?” My insides begin to crumble. He’s spoken to the man who ruined my life. He’s kept him on as a client. How fucking stupid am I? To think that someone like Maxim would fall for a girl like me. I’m just a commodity, something to be used to bargain over. “Fuck you, Maxim!”
“I don’t think so. I repulse you, remember?”
“You’re a fucking asshole for throwing that in my face.”
“Like I said before, I’m the bad guy here, you should remember
that.”
I pick up a vase sitting on the table beside me and throw it at the
wall. “Fuck you, Maxim. Go find your fucking sister without my
help,” I scream at him as I storm off. How the hell have things gone so wrong.
“What the fuck did you say?” he asks as he grabs me. His fingers dig into my arm as he turns me around to face him.
“Nothing, it doesn’t matter,” I scream as I rip my arm from his grasp and bolt up the stairs.
“Grace, come back here!” he screams after me. He’s a little slower than he normally is thanks to the bullet wound.
I slam my bedroom door shut in his face and take a couple of deep breaths until I notice the internal door between our bedrooms is open thanks to my laziness to walk around between the rooms this morning. I rush toward it, but he beats me to it.
He stands there, hand on the door, chest heaving, eyes dark. He starts stalking me like I’m his prey as I move backward from him.
“I’m only going to ask once more, Grace. What did you mean, “go find my sister”?”
I move backward until my legs hit the wardrobe, then watch as Maxim advances on me. My heart is racing, and now I can see the deadly assassin I have been living with.
“I know your sister,” I spit at him.
Maxim freezes. “What did you say?” His voice is calm but steely.
“I saw that picture in your office. I didn’t understand why Emerald was in it with you.”
“Emerald?” He looks confused. “My sisters’ names are Elena and Alexandria.”
“It was Elena. I knew her as Emerald.”
He shakes his head, not quite believing me. “No, you’re mistaken,
my sister is dead—dead!” He pushes his finger in my face.
“She’s not, Maxim. She’s alive. I promise you she’s alive. If you let me speak to my sister, she will tell you that girl in the photo is Emerald. She’s a jewel.”
His hand slaps the wardrobe, making me jump. “So, this is your plan, is it? Make up a story about my dead sister, hoping I’ll let you go. Fuck
you, Grace Clark! Fuck you.” He storms off, slamming the internal door between our bedrooms, and I hear the lock click into place.
I slide down the wardrobe, shaking. No, fuck him. If he doesn’t want to believe that his dead sister is alive, then that’s his choice. I told him, he didn’t believe me; nothing more I can do.
Standing on shaky legs, I open the wardrobe, pulling out a pair of sandshoes and grabbing a jumper.
I’m not staying here anymore. This time I know exactly where the cameras are—I’ve been taking walks around the property, looking for any chinks in the system.
No system is one hundred percent. Brooks’s and his boys taught me that.
I sneak out of my bedroom and creep down the stairs hoping not to alert a very angry Maxim.
I’m hoping Sergei is busy dealing with Maxim’s meltdown.
I’m going to try a different route. I notice off the corridor there’s an exit to the garages beside the front foyer, a route I haven’t taken before but one that doesn’t seem to be busy.
This time I choose to not escape through the vines, too many variables, and my legs are not made for long-distance running.
I need something more powerful than what nature gave me.
Over the course of my stay, I’ve noticed that they sometimes leave the keys in the cars because who the hell would steal a hitman’s car?
I follow the paved driveway that leads me to the garages.
When I look inside the large building it is filled with every imaginable boy toy.
But I’m not interested in the cars, I’m interested in finding one with keys in it.
Then I spot the Maserati that Maxim drove back to the villa.
The back window has been blown out and so has the driver’s window, but that’s still drivable, isn’t it?
I look inside for the keys but don’t see anything.
Then I notice the remote and a push-button to start the car.
Of course it’s one of those fancy keyless cars, and the remote must be the key.
I open the door and jump in, then press the ignition button, and the bad boy roars to life.
Ignoring the dried blood on the leather seats from Maxim, I fasten my seat belt and slowly reverse the car, hoping nobody notices me.
I put it into drive and make my way down the long and winding driveway.
There’s a gate, shit, where’s the—it opens automatically for the car.
Yes. My heart is racing. I can’t believe this is happening, that I might escape.
I take a deep breath, look to the left then the right to make sure no one is coming, and put my foot on the gas. This bad boy takes off like a bat out of hell. As soon as I make it to the open highway, I can breathe a little. “Fuck, yes!” I yell, thumping my hands on the steering wheel.
I’m free.
The GPS navigator lights up, and I type in my sister’s address in Ibiza to work out how long it would take me to get from Italy to Spain.
Apparently, it is going to take me eighteen hours, and I must pass through Italy, Monaco, France, and then Spain.
I don’t think I’m going to have enough fuel for that.
I guess I’ll just drive until I can find someone to let me use their phone.
I want to put as much distance between me and Maxim as I can before I stop.