Chapter 17 Maxim
MAXIM
“She didn’t talk to me all the way home,” I complain to Sergei.
“The fact you thought that was going to end any other way surprises me. We just kidnapped her again.”
“I know,” I say, raking my fingers through my hair. “And she had contacted her family. She said they were on their way.”
“Smart girl.” Sergei smiles.
“I stole her again from her family. I’m the fucking monster here.”
“The only monster here is Dmitri. Grace can’t be out there without protection, Max. Not with him still on the loose.”
“Should I give her back to her family?”
Sergei raises a brow at me.
“Maybe I should talk to them.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
“It’s a risk. We would have to secure the line. I need to explain to them that she is safer with me not them for the time being.”
“Have you explained that to Grace?” Sergei questions me.
“Not yet. She didn’t want to speak to me.”
“She might if you explain to her your reasons instead of waving a gun in her face again and dragging her back to your lair.”
“You waved a gun in her face, too,” I bite back which makes the old man chuckle.
“Guess the only way to get her to forgive you is to give her, her family.”
He’s right. It’s the one thing she has said all along that she wants. I just know that if there was a time for her to choose between her family or me, I wouldn’t be first choice.
“It’s been a hell of a day. Get some rest. Everything will look better in the morning,” he says, clapping me on the back before disappearing from the room.
I make the long walk back toward my bedroom, drifting to where Grace’s door is closed next to mine.
My hand itches to knock on her door, but Sergei’s right, everything will look better in the morning.
Walking into my bedroom, I kick my shoes to the side and toe-off my socks.
I need a fucking shower, wash this hell of a day off me.
Making my way to the bathroom, I turn the shower on and test the water until the temperature is right before shedding my clothes.
The hot water hits my aching body, my exhausted muscles, and my racing mind.
I’m careful of my wound, trying to keep it dry.
I let the water run over my back as I press my forehead against the tiles.
My mind races through today’s events and how I could have handled things differently.
There were so many things I could have done that wouldn’t have made Grace want to escape.
It’s been a couple of months since the last escape attempt, and she’s had plenty of opportunity.
She was escaping you. That’s the hard realization that I’m coming to.
She was running from me. From the horrible words I spewed at her.
From my poor treatment of her. This woman has suffered so much at the hands of men, and I’ve gone and fucking added to her trauma.
My fist hits the tiled wall in frustration.
All because of hurt ego and the inability to be honest with your feelings.
How the fuck do I feel about Grace? The pit in my stomach watching the security footage of her escaping and those hours of her being out in the real world filled me with such dread that I wasn’t thinking straight.
All my thoughts centered on finding her and protecting her at all costs. As long as she is with me, she is safe.
Does she have a say in the matter? Guessing not by the way I dragged her out of that gas station against her will with a gun in her face.
Another fist thump against the shower’s tiles.
You know if the choice was hers, she wouldn’t choose you.
Facts. How are you any different from Dmitri and his obsession with Grace?
My stomach rolls at the thought that Dmitri and I would have anything in common.
I pride myself on being better than Dmitri, but I’m not, I’m just a different version of the same fucked up thing.
You know what you need to do. My conscious is right.
Who knew I had one? I shut the water off and step out of the shower, wrapping my towel around my waist.
“Maxim!” Grace screams.
I rush out of the bathroom and through our shared door which thankfully is still unlocked.
Grace is thrashing about in her bed. “Don’t kill me, please don’t kill
me,” she pleads.
My stomach revolts knowing I’m the reason for her nightmare. “Grace, wake up! It’s a nightmare.”
“No. Leave me alone, you’re the bad guy! Please, don’t hurt me,” she screams, pushing me away.
I’m probably the last person she wants to see in her bedroom right now. “Grace, wake up. You’re safe,” I whisper to her.
“Max?” she says, sitting up, those jade-green eyes wide as she blinks at me.
“You were having a bad dream.”
“I know,” she grumbles as she wraps her arms around her body, hugging herself. Her eyes land on my bare chest, the water droplets from my shower still stuck to my skin. I’m in nothing but a white towel. “I’m okay now. You can leave.”
I’ve been dismissed.
Grace lays back down and rolls onto her side giving me her back. She pulls the blankets up over her.
Before everything got fucked up, she would have let me slide in beside her. She would have let me comfort her after a bad dream like that. She knew I would protect her. That’s gone.
Getting up, I make my way out of her bedroom and back to mine. I throw my towel aside and grab my sweatpants before getting back into bed. I stare up at the ceiling unable to fall asleep knowing how much pain Grace is in next door and not being able to do anything about it.
The next morning, I wake early and send all the staff home.
I don’t want anyone else in the villa except Grace and me.
I decide to make our breakfast this morning like I used to do before I fucked everything up.
I lay everything out, even grab a rose from the garden and place it in a vase on the table and wait for her to get up and come downstairs.
Grace never comes.
I give up on the cold eggs and bacon, my stomach turning at the thought of them. I slide the plates back into the fridge, maybe she’ll want something later.
Maybe I should go check on her. No. If she wanted to, she would have come down. But I hurt her. Then you need to apologize with more than breakfast and a rose from a garden. This is true. Forgetting about the disaster that was breakfast, I head up to her room and knock on her door.
I’m surprised when she opens it.
She’s drying herself with a towel. “Yes?” she says curtly.
“You didn’t come down for breakfast.”
“Wasn’t hungry.”
“Thought you would have come down.”
“I didn’t realize I had to.”
“You don’t. I had made some for you and wanted to share.”
“I can make my own breakfast when I get hungry. Was that it?”
I nod, not sure what else to say.
Grace then shuts the door in my face.
What the fuck just happened? I stomp back downstairs and run into Sergei.
“Guessing things haven’t gone so well this morning.” He tries to hide his smirk. Asshole. “Women. They can hold a grudge.”
“I’m off to the range, I need to shoot something,” I tell Sergei.
I’ve built a special shooting range in one of the sheds at the back of the property which is built into the side of a mountain. It’s soundproofed, no one would have any idea it’s here. I spend the morning unloading as many rounds into the targets as I can, and I still feel anxious.
Noticing the door open from my peripheral, letting the midday rays of light filter into the dark room, I wait for Sergei to join me. When he doesn’t appear, I turn around and I’m surprised to see Grace standing there. What the hell is she doing here?
I take out my earplugs. “Can I help you?” I ask her.
“Sergei told me you were down here.”
Did he now, fucker. “I needed to let off some steam.”
She nods in understanding. “Could I?”
“Could you what?”
Grace points to the targets. “Do what you’re doing. Letting off some steam.”
I look between Grace and the targets then down to the gun in my hand. I quickly unload it and put the safety on as I place the weapon on the counter before me.
“Have you ever shot a gun before?”
Grace shakes her head.
“And you want to learn how, now?”
“If I’m stuck here, I might as well learn some of your skills,” she bites back, placing her hands on her hips. She’s in a white t-shirt pulled tightly across her breasts and black leggings. The material is molded to her body so every curve, every dip, is accentuated.
“Should I be concerned that I might end up with a bullet in my back?”
Grace’s eyes narrow on me. “Guess you’re gonna have to trust me.”
She’s still frosty, but at least she wants to spend some time with me even if it is because she’s thinking about shooting me.
“Did you do all that?” she asks, pointing to the targets.
The bullseye on every single one has been obliterated. “Yes.”
“Impressive.”
And like the sucker I am, my chest puffs out like a preening peacock over her compliment.
“Guess you would have to be, otherwise, you’d be dead.”
And just like that, the air is sucked out of me and my chest deflates.
Right, well, maybe a walk to the armory would be the best bet. “Follow me,” I tell her as we make our way past the lanes of targets. I wave my hand across the door, and it opens.
“How did you do that?”
“I have a chip in my hand. It unlocks certain things in my home.”
Her eyes widen. “You can do that?”
I nod and hold out my hand for her, showing the tiny lump near my thumb. Her finger runs along it which makes my cock twitch. Down, boy, now is not the time.
“Did it hurt?”
I shake my head.
“That’s some Jason Bourne kind of shit.” She giggles and the sound warms me. I haven’t heard it in such a long time. I miss her laughter.
We head on through another locked door which opens into my weapons room.
“Holy shit.” She gasps, staring at the vast array of weapons before her. “This is all yours?”
“Perks of the job.” I grin morbidly at her, forgetting that not everyone is excited by weapons and killing bad guys like I am. Tone your psycho-ness down, Maxim.