Page 2 of Maxim

Dimitri slaps me on the shoulder. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing the right thing.”

“Thank you.”

“Just remember, get in and get out. We want you to come home,” he says before breaking away.

Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly as I make my way out of the compound. Men nod to me as I pass by, showing me the respect I’ve earned.

Will I still have their respect when I get back?

Getting into my car, I head home. The drive goes by in a blur as my thoughts race with what I’ve just agreed to.

When I step into my house, I look around. The place is sparse at best, but it’s mine. The furniture is used and old, but it’s good enough for me. I head toward my bedroom and sit down onthe edge of the bed. My nightstand drawer sticks before sliding open. Reaching in, I pull out the only photo I have.

The edges are worn, but the woman is easy to make out. She’s standing sideways in a long lace dress, holding a bouquet. Her hair is curled and pinned back. What really gets me is her face. She looks miserable and maybe even a little scared.

My grandmother.

The only woman who ever loved me and whose story so closely matches those of the women being sold right now.

Her father sold her to a wealthy Russian man who then raped and abused her until the day he died. When his heart finally stopped, she cried so hard she fell to the floor. While everyone assumed that she was mourning him, I knew that they were happy tears. The man who controlled her every move and impregnated her ten times, with only six of them making it to full term, was finally gone. She was finally free. She lived for twenty years after he passed, and in that time she did everything she wanted. I made sure of that.

While the guys might think I’m making a rash decision to go undercover, they couldn’t be farther from the truth. It’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while now and have kept to myself. I can’t sit by anymore and watch children and women be ripped from their homes and forced into a life worse than death.

On my grandmother’s grave, I swear I’ll do whatever I can to put an end to this. If it’s the last thing I do, then so be it.

One Month Later

His eyes crawl over me, and I fight the urge to shiver in disgust.

This is hell.

Avoiding looking his way, I look down at my robe and make sure everything is hidden beneath the fabric before I try and tighten it again. Pretty sure if I pull on the sash any tighter, it will snap, but it’s the distraction I need.

I knew my father was fucked in the head, but this is a new low, even for him. Sending me to get waxed and making a guard stand watch the entire time? It’s fucking creepy, intrusive, and other words I can’t think of at the moment. Over the last year, he’s slowly been tightening the leash he has around my neck, and I hate it, but there is nothing I can do.

He has me right where he wants me, and he knows it.

The guard shifts on his heels, pulling me out of my head. Keeping my head down, I peek through my eyelashes and watch as he adjusts himself, not even bothering to hide the fact he likes what he sees.

Bile claws at my throat, but I choke it down. God, I never thought my father could get worse, but he always proves me wrong.

If he’s stooped this low, imagine how much lower he’s willing to go.

I can’t fight it, though. I can’t, not when the kids’ lives are on the line.

Warmth fills me when I think about my two younger siblings, Daryna and Aleksander.

Alek is seven years old, and as hard as I try to protect him, I know he’s seen things he shouldn’t. Daryna is five years old and is hopefully oblivious to everything that happens in our home. For the longest time after Mother died, it was just Father and me. Then one day he came home and told me he knocked up one of his whores and she would be moving in. Shortly after she gave birth to Alek, she left. Then it happened all over again with Daryna.

I don’t know what happened to their mothers, but I know that Father has to be behind the reason they left. No mother would willingly leave their child. At least none that I know. Family is everything, even when you’re related to someone like my father.

A knock on the door startles me, making me jump. The guard chuckles, and I can feel myself flush.

God, how embarrassing.

“Hi, Olena, I’m Holly. Are you ready to get started?” the wax specialist says.

“Sure.”