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James and I follow Maksim and the rest of the men through the entrance hall, down a wide lobby, and into a huge open space—a ballroom. All these rich motherfuckers have them. The room oozes luxury with ivory paneled walls, a large sparkly chandelier hanging overhead, and decadent, highly buffed wooden floors. Their oxford shoes echo through the space as we go forth, stopping by the French doors that lead out onto the back garden.
“My little pet,” Maksim calls in Russian for me to stand in front of him, waving me forward. He takes my gun and tells James to put his down on the window ledge. “You and James will battle until one is unconscious, is that clear?”
Charlie steps in front of us and crosses his arms. “Unconscious?”
My face drops.He can speak Russian?
Maksim nods. “It will be a good fight, my friend. You'll see.”
“No way. I'm not up for seeing this little girl unconscious.” Charlie points at me, then tucks his hand back into his crossed arms. “I just want to see what she's made of.”
I almost huff. I'm insulted, truly, but quite eager to see the shock in this bastard's eyes when I knock James out cold.
Shit, no.What am I thinking? I don't want to do that to James. I don't want to hurt him.
“Charlie, relax, my friend.” Maksim pulls me under his arm. I lean into him, into his warmth like a cat getting petted. He always pets me before a fight. “James will not beat Blaire. She's too good.”
“She is,” Carl concurs.
Charlie frowns down at me. “Is that right?”
Tipping my head back, I peek up at Maksim, almost purring. Since before I can remember, I've been robbed of affection, so when Maksim is like this I bask in his touch. I bask in the way he holds me. I guess everyone needs affection at some point in their lives, even me.
“Don't look at him-” Charlie snaps, making me flinch.
Everyone is instantly on guard, glancing at each other.
“-Look at me and answer me, Blaire.”
Maksim squeezes my arm to give me the go ahead.
“Yes, that's right,” I whisper.
I can feel James' anxiety behind us coming off him in waves. It would usually make my stomach turn over with guilt. Now, however, I'm too preoccupied with Maksim. He's so warm and he smells like freshly burnt brut. At times like this, I can almost imagine myself as a different person, someone who can and will thrive in another's tenderness. No more brutality. Just, this.
“Okay, Charlie?” Maksim says, holding me tighter under his arm. He knows I enjoy his touch. I've told him many of times when he's asked.
Charlie grinds his square jaw. “Yeah, but if I call it to a stop, they have to stop. I don't want to see her half dead.”
Somehow, he's snapped me out of this needy trance. I'm not sure if I'm angry, affronted, or flattered by his demand.
I frown.
No one has ever broken me out of a trance when Maksim holds me.
“Blaire, you understand?” Maksim looks down at me. “If Charlie says stop, you will both stop.”
I nod, innocently blinking up at him.
“You too, James,” Maksim says, glancing back.
“Yes,c?pMaksim.”
“Good.” My master gives me another squeeze before saying in Russian, “Now, the both of you go on and take position in the middle of the room.”
When I glance up at Charlie he nods at me. I'm not sure why.
Turning out of Maksim's embrace, I come face to face with James. He appears very deadpan but I know he's nervous—I can sense it on another level. I don't enjoy fighting my friend like this either, so I guess I am a little nervous too but I have no other choice. Maksim will beat the shit out of me if I refuse, and like always, I'll do nothing to stop him.
