Page 150 of Bratva Jewels Box Set

“Grace?” Maxim stops, noticing me withdrawing. “Grace, baby, what’s going on?” he asks, grabbing my face as the first tears roll down my cheeks. “Am I hurting you?”

I’m frozen in the moment as my mind begins shutting down.

“Gracie, please, what’s going on? It’s me. Maxim. I’m here with you. I’m the one inside of you. No one else.”

Shaking my head, I try to lose the images of others in the same position as him. When I look up again, I don’t see Maxim’s face. It’s Dmitri’s, and I jerk back.

“Get off me. Please stop touching me. I don’t want to do it. Please don’t make me go back. I can’t. I can’t do it again. Stop touching me,” I scream and yell as my hands thrash wildly, a nightmare begins to take hold of me, and my reality blurs with the past.

Next thing I feel is the man withdrawing from me, he’s no longer inside of me, and my body instantly curls up as I try to protect myself.

“I’m sorry, Grace. I shouldn’t have … I thought …”

In the far corner of my mind, I know it’s Maxim talking to me, but it can’t reach me as the panic attack takes over and the nightmare pulls me under. My stomach rolls and I lean over the bed and throw up.

11

GRACE

Last night I was so far gone in my panic attack that it took me all night to get back to the real world. I spent an hour in the shower earlier scrubbing off the feeling of Dmitri and those men touching me, my skin is rubbed raw, but I feel semi-normal again. Maxim didn’t come to my room last night, nor do I blame him. Dmitri’s evilness ruined what should have been a magical moment. I need to find Maxim and reassure him that it wasn’t him that hurt me, that I was so far gone in my nightmare that reality and the past were blurring together, and I couldn’t work out what was real and what wasn’t.

I know it wasn’t his fault, and I need to make sure he’s okay because I wasn’t able to communicate that to him and he probably thinks he was the one hurting me. If I know him like I feel like I do, he will be cut up about what happened and will be blaming himself. I can’t let him think he hurt me.

Getting dressed into a white sundress, I head downstairs to find Maxim and grab some food because all this trauma is making me hungry. When I enter the breakfast room, I’m greeted by the chef, not Maxim who would normally be there.Singing away at the cooktop in his sweatpants with no shirt on, his dark hair all messy from sleep as he cooks me breakfast.

“Buongiorno, signora, what would you like for breakfast?” the chef asks.

He’s new. I’ve never seen him before, but I don’t remember who the chef was before Maxim sent him away so that he could cook for me. I shake my head. “Have you seen Maxim?”

“No, he has not been downstairs this morning.”

“Thanks,” I say as I leave the kitchen. Where the hell is he? Is he okay? I’m getting worried. I move down the corridor and try all the rooms downstairs. I check the library, the games room, the sitting room, and the lounge room, but they are all empty.

An unease begins to settle in my stomach as I continue to search for him. I check the pool. When he’s stressed, Maxim does laps, like me. But the pool area is empty. Where the hell is he? Maybe he’s asleep still as I’m sure he would have been up for hours pacing, his fingers running through his dark locks as he punishes himself for thinking he’s hurt me.

Rushing back up the grand staircase, I check the room next to mine. Pushing open the door, I thank goodness it’s unlocked as I peer into the room, but it’s empty. The bed is made, the curtains are open, and I can smell the faintest hint of his aftershave, but there’s no Maxim. Where the hell is he? Worry gnaws at my insides as I head back downstairs to his office. It’s the last place to look. If he isn’t there then he’s gone. That thought makes me sick, I don’t want him to have left. I need him here, near me. He promised he would protect me. That I would be safe. How can I be if he isn’t here?

Rushing back down the staircase, getting in my cardio this morning, I head down the corridor toward his office. The door is slightly ajar, and I push it open, hoping to surprise Maxim.

It’s empty.

Panic worms its way across my chest as I stare at the empty room. Where the hell are you, Maxim? Paperwork on his desk catches my attention, and I sift through it hoping he’s popped to the shop or run an errand. But all the papers are invoices for wine. Then I pull open his drawers and start searching in them, not sure what I’m looking for and not taking in anything that I do see until my hand hits something hard. It’s an old photo frame and inside it is a photo of Maxim with his arm around two gorgeous girls. They look younger than him, but they both have the same inky black hair as he does. Bringing the photo closer, I realize one of the girls looks familiar. My eyes narrow, my hands start to shake as I stare at the girl in the photo. This can’t be. I don’t understand.

How the hell does Maxim know Emerald?

Taking a seat as my legs shake, I stare at the photo of one of the jewels who was Dmitri’s favorite. She had more freedom than all of us combined, even Zoe. She was Dmitri and Nikolai’s little lap dog, jumping anytime they needed her. She was never whipped or beaten and got the best clothes, specially designed or chosen for her. She never shared a room with any of the other girls and she didn’t even have to sleep with some of the men.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Sergei asks.

So lost in my thoughts that his voice startles me, I drop the photo frame onto the desk, thankfully not cracking it. He doesn’t look happy seeing me in Maxim’s office alone.

“I’m looking for Maxim.”

His eyes land on the photo frame. “You’re not going to find him in his desk drawers, are you?”

This doesn’t look good. “Where is he? We need to talk.”

Sergei’s eyes narrow on me. “He’s not here.”