Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 21818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21818 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 109(@200wpm)___ 87(@250wpm)___ 73(@300wpm)
Samira sighs in frustration. “Still cocky as ever, I see. Look at where you are, Max. You and Mikhail against a room of men, all strapped. What’s Mikhail doin’ with you, anyway? Isn’t he Sergei’s henchman?”
“Was Sergei’s henchman.”
“How did you get him to your side?”
“By killing my father.”
Samira’s silent as she falls flat on her ass on the mattress. Her arms wrap around her frame, and she casts her eyes down to the floor, her beautiful face hidden behind her long hair.
I fall to my knees in front of her, desperate for her to have any reaction other than the sadness on her face. Anger is an emotion that can drive you, happiness one that can fuel you, but sadness, sadness, is an emotion that can drown you. I can take anything from Samira, anything she can throw at me. I will bear it. But the sadness coming off her in waves makes me feel like I’m sinking into quicksand with no way out.
We sit in silence. It kills me not to be able to do anything and what worries me is that she’s actually mourning my father. The sack of shit that ruined our lives in so many ways that we’ll probably pay for it for the rest of our lives. “Does it upset you?”
“When? When did you kill him?”
“The same night he took you away.”
Samira raises her hand and slaps me so hard that my head snaps.
I grit my teeth and grab her wrist before she hits me again. “I like it rough, sweetheart, but my dick isn’t buried deep in you right now. So what the fuck was that?”
“You let me suffer for ten years. After you killed him, you left me in hell. You don’t love me, Max. You love fuckin’ me. Well, you got what you wanted. Now you can join your father in hell.”
Before I can do anything, Samira whips her wrist out of my grasp and runs.
Fuck this. I storm after her, moving into a hallway. I spot her long hair as it takes a corner, but when I follow, my heart stops because I can’t see her anymore.
“Samira, get the fuck out here. I’m not playin’ games.”
Silence.
My heart is beating out of my chest with worry and fear. She’s fuckin’ insufferable.
“I will fuckin’ burn this place down with both of us in it before I live another day without you.”
I trudge down the back hallway until I spot two doors. She has to be in one of them. My hand grips the doorknob and I twist, opening the door slowly. Bright colors adorn the space, with tables and chairs in shades of the rainbow. The entire room is gaudy, a cliche of how you’d think a stripper’s dressing room would look. There’s a rolling rack with barely-there costumes and ostentatious accessories. My fingers move through the material. Flashes of Samira in the lace and satin flit through my mind and fill me with rage. Men have seen her. They have touched her. They have used her.
Chapter 9
SAMIRA
I ran because Maxim was sucking me back in. Around him, I let all my damn walls down, and that’s the most dangerous thing I can do. Ever.
The other men, I knew what they wanted. My heart saw their lust, anger, and greed. I was a commodity they paid for, played with, and then threw away. The rules were clear, and I knew what I was with them.
But with Max, it’s different. The shattered pieces of my heart fill with hope, and that’s something I can’t allow because being hurt by Maxim is the only thing that would destroy me.
“Samira. Get the fuck out here, now!” he yells right before a loud thud echoes through the room, followed by the crash of glass hitting a surface and shattering.
Maxim screams, and then I hear loud crashes of random items being thrown and discarded. It’s like he’s lost all control and the only thing he can do is destroy anything in his wake.
From the corner of my eye, I see the clothing rack on the floor, surrounded by all the costumes. A rainbow of color surrounds Maxim’s black leather dress shoes.
Max never was violent when I knew him. He was passionate, yes, and our sex life was chaotic, dirty, and aggressive, but never violent. Max didn’t raise his voice to me. Not once. Or at anyone else. He was calm, collected, and in control. People rarely saw much emotion from him, and no one would call him destructive or volatile. But seeing this man before me now, it’s not the same guy. This version of Max is not the man I knew but a carbon copy of his father. Sergei was the one who would have bursts of violence if he didn’t get his way. Sergei would raise his voice and destroy anything within arm’s reach.