10. Elira

10

ELIRA

H e doesn't want me here.

I can tell by the tense way Maksim walks in front of me, leading the way into his home. When Nikita brutally murdered a man right in front of him, Maksim casually strolled to dispose of the body, but now his steps seem heavy, and his arms don't sway.

At first, I think his discomfort must be out of sheer embarrassment at the state of the place, but his eyes don't seem to even notice the bowl of milk spoiling on the kitchen bar or the clothes randomly littering the floor. When I look down, I see fresh dirt marks along the carpet from his shoes.

How do these people live like this?

There's a leopard print bra hanging over the back of the couch, and that Maksim does seem to catch. His eyes narrow as his lips pull into a frown.

With a sigh, he turns his attention to me.

I raise my chin and brace myself. After everything that just happened, it's hard to believe there will be no wrath to face. The worst part of Maksim is his unpredictability. He could be bringing me here only because his basement has the best equipment for torture.

"Are you hungry?" he asks me.

I don't respond, nor do I allow my guard to fall.

Am I hungry?

Does he know what I just did? It's been hours, and I used the Storms' washroom to clean myself up, but I still smell Daniel's blood. I feel its memory on my clean hands and in my hair. Feel the ring wrapped loosely around my finger that may not have been given but that I feel I've earned.

No, I'm not hungry.

"I'd rather get my punishment over with, if it's all right with you."

Rolling his neck, he ambles past me into the kitchen and over to the fridge. "I told you, I'm not going to hurt you." He pulls out two beers, twisting off each cap as he walks back to me.

"Sit." He gestures to a bar stool and sets one of the beers in front of it.

I want to argue, only because there's a certain level of discomfort involved in obeying Maksim, but I climb onto the barstool and sit anyway. As I pick at the label on the bottle, I chew on my cheek.

I hate to admit it, but when Maksim showed up, I wasn't scared, I was … relieved.

I didn't want to go to prison. Daniel had to die. He had to pay . The world will never be rid of all evil, but never again will that particular evil exist, and that was worth whatever price I had to pay. But I'm scared to be on my own here. I'm scared to face an unknown justice system. Or an organization that Daniel belonged to. Or the one Maksim belongs to. I'd rather just face Maksim.

"So," he says to me, making my prying fingers still on the bottle. "That was … interesting."

Interesting?

What does that mean?

I pull my hands away then rest them in my lap while staring at a red smudge of some kind, probably food, on the bar top.

"I won't lie, I'm surprised at what you're capable of. I feel silly for being so sympathetic when you had to see Nikita's unhinged side."

I only mean to scoff in my mind, but it leaves my mouth with such force that it rattles my shoulders.

I'm still staring at the red smudge when Maksim's light blue shirt enters my sight as he leans against the bar toward me. Swallowing, I lift my head to meet serious eyes that wait for me to explain myself.

"You didn't seem very sympathetic," I say, my voice even. I'm not angry. I'm disgusted by this man, but I have no reason to be angry with him. He didn't sell me. He didn't buy me. He doesn't even want me.

He tried to take my life, but now he's spared it a second time. He brought me to his home instead of pawning me off to his friends again. Unless his plans for me are more sinister than he's portraying—which would be unsurprising coming from a liar like him—I should consider myself lucky.

Lucky .

Maybe even grateful.

My mind recoils at that thought, unable to go that far, but I do have to admit that, for now, with Maksim is the safest place to be. So I should be kind. Desirable. Listen to my mother.

Be a good girl, Elira. You know what men want.

"I'm sorry." I rest my arms on the bar, trying not to react when something sticky coats my flesh. "I'm sorry I've been troublesome for you…"

When he says nothing, I peek into his eyes to see that nothing has changed. My words haven't relaxed him. If anything, he looks more guarded.

"Are you angry with me?" I ask, shyly lifting my shoulders.

His eyes narrow, but instead of angry, he looks suspicious, like he's reading right through my attempt at placating him. I must be terrible at this.

I'm just about to stand and go to him, try to use touch to bring down his guard, when he speaks.

"I don't know what to feel about you, Elira." He stares at me a moment before bringing his beer to his lips and taking a long pull. When he's done, he slams the bottle on the counter and roughly takes my arm, dragging me off the stool.

My mouth opens to protest, but I lock the words in my lungs and move my feet when he pulls me down a hall. His grasp on my arm is strong but not exactly rough. Not quite hinting at what he has planned, if it's sadistic or not.

My heart thumps in my ears, and I swallow down words I'd like to spew. Whatever it is, it can't be as bad as the fate I deserve.

Be good. Just be good. At least figure out America, access money, make a connection or two, have something .

Then, if and when the time calls for it … I can kill Maksim too.

He throws open a door at the end of a hall and lets go of my arm once we're inside the room. The bedroom . A man's, if the clothes covering the floor are any indication. There are more articles of clothing on the floor than I own in total, and the four-poster bed that has a wadded-up comforter thrown on top of wrinkled sheets—one corner not even fitted beneath the mattress—is big enough to fit my entire family. The room itself is larger than my home, suddenly seeming cramped with the five of us, and somehow without asking I know this space is only for Maksim.

I want to be disgusted at the wastefulness of it all, especially with the little care he gives his things, but there's a part of me, this part that shames me, that wants a taste.

I wonder if this is what my father's house is like.

When Maksim's hand presses against my lower back, my eyes close. My body tries to recoil from his touch, but I fight the urge and let him silently guide me forward, clenching my hands to keep them steady.

I can guess why a man would bring me to his bedroom. I'm not an idiot. I'm just surprised this hasn't happened sooner.

Be a good girl, Elira. You know what men want.

I move forward toward the bed, leaving Maksim's hand behind to prove my acceptance of this. To prove that I can in fact be what he wants. That I'm a treasure to keep safe and secure instead of a burden to get rid of at the first opportunity.

Unable to help myself, I pull the material that slipped from its corner back to tuck it into place, and I smooth the sheets before straightening the comforter. It's a silly impulse, I know because there's nothing I could do to make this nice , but I do it anyway.

When I'm finished with the bed, I turn and sit, staring at my lap to avoid Maksim's eyes.

"All right, then," he says, his tone either curious or annoyed.

My face burns.

"I've got to get going. Thanks to your … episode … I'll have to work late, so I won't be back for a while."

I lift my head to look at him, feeling my lips pursed with confusion. Did I read this wrong?

The desire I expect to be in his eyes is nonexistent. He looks serious.

"You can stay at my place for a while if that's what you want, but you should know, I don't live alone. My roommate is…" He tilts his head like he's weighing how to word this. "Unkind. He and I share everything, including whores, but I know you've had a rough go of things, so I won't mention you if you agree to behave. He doesn't randomly come into my room, so if you're silent, he'll have no idea you're here."

My jaw drops as my veins freeze over.

Roommate?

Share ?

I feel like someone just kicked me in the stomach, and I lean forward, pressing my forearms on my knees and breathing through the sensation. I just got away from his friends. His supposedly kind friends. This one is un kind?

Is it Roman? Is that who lives here?

I feel the blood drain from my face but don't say anything. This is only more reason to get Maksim on my side, get him to start thinking of me as a person or ally or something other than a troublesome, stupid girl.

Maksim walks over to me, but I don't look up until he opens the cabinet door to his bedside table, which is actually a tiny refrigerator. In it are plastic water bottles, beer bottles, and bars of some kind in case the kitchen is too far a walk for a midnight snack, I guess.

I look at the floor.

"The fridge is stocked, so everything you need is in this room. Bathroom is there." I see him point in my periphery to an open doorway. I would be curious about him having a bathroom all to himself if I could breathe. "And if you're feeling scared, there's the closet." Now I look up to follow his finger to a closed door. "There's a trunk inside you could hide in if you wanted to be extra careful. My roommate usually gets home around four, so I'd say listen for the front door, then just play it safe in the closet. Piss in a bottle or something if you have to. Whatever you've got to do." He glances down at his wrist before working the clasp to remove it.

"Couldn't you just tell him I'm off limits?" I ask, my voice high.

"I could." He tosses the watch on the bed. "But I won't. That would involve creating a minor strain on his and my relationship, and you haven't proven yourself worthy of that. Allowing you to hide yourself is as far as my kindness is going to reach for now, and if you act up, I'll take even that privilege away."

"No." I shake my head. "Maksim, I… Please, I won't act up. I…"

I want to be worthy.

The words sound so pathetic. So desperate. They match the tremble in my lip perfectly, so while they kill my pride, I say them aloud.

"I want to be worthy."

Finally, his face begins to soften. He gives a single nod. "That's what I want too, Elira. That's what I've been trying to tell you."

His long legs devour the distance between us in only two steps, and when his hand reaches out toward my face, my eyes close, but I don't flinch away. My ear tickles as Maksim tucks my hair behind it. It's a comfort I don't want but one I think I need. I'd give anything for him to tell me he'll protect me. There are so many men to protect me from.

"One day, all of this will have felt like nothing more than a bad dream. I promise."

I promise .

You lie, Maksim. Your words mean nothing. I can hear the lie in every syllable, feel it in your touch, smell it in the air. It reeks.

He pulls back and turns before I even open my eyes. "I have an alarm system that will go off if you try to leave, so save us both the headache and don't. Just stay in the bedroom, kiddo, all right?"

He looks over his shoulder to see me nod before he leaves, returning a minute later with the suitcase full of Daniel's wife's clothes I stole before he leaves again.

I go to the closet, my eyes popping at the size of the small could-be bedroom, and find the trunk he talked about. I pull blankets along with a shoebox, a couple of tennis rackets, and some other junk out and neatly organize it on a shelf before tucking myself inside the trunk to make sure I'll fit. It's snug, but it'll do for now.

It couldn't be more obvious right now that I don't know what men want, at least not this man.

But I will find out.