Page 12 of Maxim

Did I mess up the other night though when I stepped in and saved Olena? Did that fuck up the little camaraderie I built between Jan and myself? Fuck, that man is such a fucking tool. The way he grabbed his daughter at the base of her neck and dragged her out of view.

Olena.

Goddamn, is she a pretty little thing. I shouldn’t say that considering she’s even younger than Ivanna and Lia, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Not only that, but she is innocent as hell. I have this urge to save her from the life she’s been thrust into. I want to be the one who brings the light back to her face. It doesn’t matter, though. I can’t let her distract me from what’s important. Besides, for all I know, it’s all an act, and she’s in just as deep as her dear old dad.

Does she help him or is she blind to what he does behind closed doors? Surely that’s not the case though, right? Thenagain, there is no denying the fear she had in her eyes when he grabbed her. She’s terrified of the man. Did he hurt her that night or, worse, kill her?

I scrub my hands over my face. Shit, I’ve got to stop thinking about her. I have to.

I look around the apartment and shake my head. At least the apartment we rented to keep up appearances is benefiting from all the time I’m spending here. The place is fucking spotless.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

My body tenses as someone pounds on my front door. No one knows where I live outside of Alexei, and I wasn’t expecting any deliveries. Quietly I set my water down and reach for the gun I keep under the blanket on the underside of the coffee table. I check the chamber and make sure a bullet is ready to go in case I need it.

Very carefully I make my way to the front door. My heart pounds as I peek through the peephole. A man in a custom suit stands in front of the door with his arms folded in front of him. Something about him is familiar, but I can’t quite place where I know him from. I take a step to the side, clear of the door.

“Who is it?” I yell.

“Mr. Boyko, my name is Charlie Manson. I have a certified letter I need you to sign for,” he says.

Charlie Manson? I scoff. I might have been born at night, but I wasn’t born last night. Charlie Manson sure as hell isn’t his name.

Taking a deep breath, I turn my body and unlock the door. Carefully I open the door, keeping the gun out of view but ready to fire if this asshole makes a move.

“I’m sorry, but I’m not expecting anything,” I tell him.

The man smiles creepily, showing off his incisors that make him look like one of those vampires from the movies Lia and Ivanna like to watch.

The man holds out an envelope. “I could take this with me, but I have a feeling you would regret it.”

I reach out and take the letter from him.

“Have a good day, Mr. Boyko,” he says before walking away.

So much for signing for it.

The man wasn’t a courier, though. Not a legal one, at least.

Once he’s out of view, I slam the door shut and lock the door. Moving to the kitchen island, I set the gun down and look at the envelope.

The maroon wax seal catches my attention. Very carefully, without messing up the seal, I open the envelope and pull out the piece of parchment from inside. It’s a heavy piece of paper with calligraphy writing.

Is this what I think it is? Heart racing I begin to read.

Maxim Boyko, you are cordially invited…

“Holy shit…” I mutter as I keep reading.

The sale of the year, taking place on Friday the thirteenth of August. Come join us to fill your darkest desires.

I did it. I really fucking did it.

I’m in.

“So pale.” The makeup artist tsks as she hits my face with product. “Look alive, child.”

Look alive? I’m barely breathing. My body shakes uncontrollably because of what’s to come. Fear, ice-cold fear, runs through my veins, making me look as if I’m a ghost.

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