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He rounds his desk, walking tall and gracefully masculine, and he ushers me to the front door, where he kisses the side of my face. “I'm glad you're back, my little pet. So, so glad.”
I smile at him, and just when I think it's over, he grabs my wrist.
“Where did you get this?” He lifts my hand to eyesight—the bracelet.
I hesitate to speak but he narrows his eyes at me, making me feel small and feeble
“Charlie gave it to me.”
It's like I just slapped him. His face drops again, and he blinks at me, flabbergasted.
“So, he's tried to spoil you with twenty-thousand dollar bracelets, has he?” His fingers dig into my flesh. “Give it to me.”
My entire body sinks with panic.
“No. I-he... he said... I can't,c?pMaksim.”
“You can't?” His hand wrapped around my wrist shakes with fury. “Are you taking orders from him now too?”
“I... He said I-” I don't know what to tell him.Just give him the fucking bracelet!
He laughs under his breath, and it's like the last hour didn't happen. Old Maksim is back, and he means business.
“Okay, my little pet, then I guess you'll earn that bracelet.”
———
Fisting the back of my hair, Maksim drags me through his house and up the stairs, tearing my scalp. I don't stumble. I'm gracefully poise as he hauls me along with him.
Outside his bedroom, he stops to kick the door open and yanks me inside, yelling in Russian as he does. The curtains are drawn and it's almost too dark to see anything. Almost. Surrounding the edges of the ceiling, blue lights beam down, illuminating an assortment of gadgets meant to inflict pain. The Saint Andrew's Cross with leather handcuffs standing in the tall bay window—it looks like hell warmed up, old scratch marks crisscrossing the wooden surface where someone has tried to escape. Whips and leather floggers are lined up around the huge wooden four poster bed, like ornaments. A cattle prod hangs on the wall above the dull fireplace next to the bed.
My blood runs cold. I'm absolutely terrified, my eyes glazing over with tears. He used to sting me with that cattle prod until I could stomach the pain.
“Get out, now!” Maksim yells, and I cower, his voice sharp enough to raise hairs.
I wonder who he's talking to, thinking it might be James, until I see a little blonde girl in his bed. She's wearing a black leather leash, nothing else. She flicks the duvet back, scrambles to her feet with her lush parts jiggling about, and dashes out of the bedroom; slams the door shut with a loud *bang*.
I don't cringe. I'm trying to stay mentally balanced—block it out, Blaire.
There's a strange smell in the air; strawberries or something, a sweet, fruity aroma. I don't know why. Maksim usually burns brut candles.
He pulls on my hair and forces me around to face him, bends my neck back and glares down on me with fiery golden eyes. “You will forget about the last three months, my little pet,” his hand in my hair twists and tightens to the point where I moan in pain, “because I'll beat the memories out of you. And if I can't beat the memories out of you, I'll medicate them out of you.”
WALLOP!He slaps me around the face, knocking me onto the bed. Tangled in my own hair, I land with a heavy bounce, my knees hitting the carpeted floor. My cheek throbs and my head... fuck it hurts. I cup my face, frightened shitless, suddenly thinking about Charlie. He never once hurt me. I remember when he said, 'You might be the only girl I won't hit...'
Why the fuck am I thinking about that?
“Last chance to give me that bracelet, my little pet.”
I sob in my closed mouth, not wanting to give it to him. It's mine. It's the only thing I have of Charlie.
Trembling violently, I shake my head to say 'no'.
“Okay then. As you wish.” Maksim tears me out of my jacket, then my t-shirt, his nails scratching my skin because he can't undress me quick enough. I sink to the floor in my sports bra and trousers, desperately looking up at him; looking up at my master, the one I shouldn't ever refuse.
“You look scared, my little pet,” he sounds pleased as he says this, smiling evilly at me with crinkled eyes.
He points out, and I know what he's gesturing at—I've been trussed up in this room many times before. Unfolding myself from the floor, I get up and walk across the room, stopping in the corner.Breathe. Focus.Closing my eyes and shakily reaching up, I grab two sets of chains that are fixed to the ceiling. The metal is cold in my palms, but the room is too warm, creating a mist of sweat down my spine. I feel like I can't breathe.
