Possess (The Syndicate: Crime and Passion Book 1) (3 page)

M
axim

S
ergei stood
, silently waiting for me to speak. I stayed quiet, though, tried to calm myself. After a moment, I looked at him.

“Don’t get so familiar with Senna. You have other things to be concerned about,” I said.

Sergei furrowed his brow, but kept his gaze locked on mine. “Senna and I are just friends, Maxim,” he said.

As if I needed his reassurance. Of course he and Senna were just “friends,” whatever that meant. He wouldn’t be here, wouldn’t be breathing, if I had thought they were anything else. Still, I didn’t want to see him touching her. Didn’t want to see anyone touching her.

“Don’t touch her again,” I said.

Sergei smiled, that almost gleeful expression setting my teeth on edge, as he’d no doubt intended. “Don’t worry, Maxim,” he said, his eyes flaring before he narrowed them. “Are you and Senna together?”

My first response was the visceral urge to lash out at him, but I didn’t, if only to prove to myself that nothing, not even Senna, would upend my self-control.

“What Senna and I are is none of your concern. The only thing you need to be worried about is making sure you don’t touch her again and remembering what will happen to you if you do,” I said.

He nodded, though I didn’t miss his mischievous smile. “Whatever you say, boss.”

I knew Sergei and Senna were close, and though we’d never discussed it, I knew she wouldn’t cross that line. It wasn’t fair of me to interfere with her relationships, but I’d never given a fuck about fairness, and I wouldn’t start with Senna. I wouldn’t allow her to become involved with anyone in the Syndicate. Anyone anywhere.

So while I never touched her, never verbally laid my claim, it was there nonetheless. Senna was mine.

I turned my attention back to Sergei. “Do you want to continue to be part of my organization?” I asked.

“I hate wearing suits, but I will if you insist,” Sergei said.

I scoffed and then glared at him. “You think I give a fuck about your wardrobe?”

“You’re always going on about how I look,” he said.

“You could carry yourself with some dignity, look a little more respectable, but what matters to me is what you can do. Your clothes won’t keep you alive, and if you’re dead, you won’t be an asset to the Syndicate,” I said.

“Always honest, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said.

“So what, then? Why did you ask if I want to be a part of this organization?” he asked.

“Do you want to be?” I asked, repeating my question.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t,” he said, his voice getting tighter.

“So stop wasting my time. You came here for a reason, so drop the pretense and tell me what that reason is,” I said.

“I actually came to see Senna,” he said. When I glared at him again, he raised his hands in a placating way and then continued rapidly, “But I was hoping we could talk.”

“Better,” I said, some of the instantaneous anger that had sparked and grown larger from the second I’d seen Sergei with his arm around her banking. Business was the reason I was here, but in this moment, I would use it as a distraction from thoughts of Senna and Sergei. “What do we have to talk about?”

I could guess at the topic, but would make Sergei say so. He was still loyal, but I knew he was pissed off that I hadn’t promoted him. He had promise, though, talent that could be molded into something great, so I indulged him, even though he could be a pain in the ass.

Sergei stood up straighter and then faced me head-on. “Maxim, I deserved Europe,” he said flatly.

“What makes you think you deserve anything?” I replied.

“I’ve been working my ass off for over ten years. I’ve done everything you asked. I have killed, bled for the Syndicate. I deserved Europe,” he said.

I listened to his impassioned plea, saw how very much he believed it, and knew that not giving him responsibility for the Syndicate’s European operations had been the right decision.

“You may well have done all of those things, but what you think you deserve in life and what you get are seldom related. You aren’t ready,” I said.

“The fu—” He cut off quickly and then paused before he began again. “I’m ready, Maxim,” he said.

I said nothing, and he frowned. He still wanted to argue the point; I could see that clearly, but instead he murmured, “When will I be ready?”

“When I decide,” I said.

Sergei’s frown deepened, the argument still clear in his expression. He held his tongue, though, displaying discipline I was never entirely sure he was capable of. “But you let an outsider come in and take my spot?” he said a moment later, his voice again under control.

“We finally get to the truth. Your pride is wounded,” I said.

Which I had expected but hadn’t let influence me when I’d made my decision.

“Wouldn’t yours be?” he asked, his expression skeptical.

I shook my head. “No. Pride is a dangerous emotion. It clouds people’s logic.” I paused, met Sergei’s eyes again. “And I would have killed someone who insulted me,” I said.

“Are you trying to make me go nuts, Maxim?”

“What makes you think I would waste the effort?” I said.

Sergei smiled, despite himself I suspected. “You’re pretty much telling me I need to kill you, or that Priest guy you gave Europe to,” he said.

“I’m not telling you anything. I’m just responding to your question. What you do is totally up to you, though I wouldn’t suggest going after Priest, and certainly not me. Be patient, Sergei,” I said.

“Were you patient?” he asked.

It was as close as Sergei had come to asking me about my own path, and I was feeling uncommonly in the mood to share.

“Incredibly so,” I said. “Do you know how long I’ve been a part of the Syndicate?”

He shook his head.

“Since I was eleven years old,” I replied. “Long before it was what it is now. They found me a half-starved orphan, took me in.”

“And made you what you are?” Sergei said.

“No. I was that before I ever met anyone in the Syndicate. But they shaped me. Gave me tools I didn’t have. I learned all I could. I was patient, and when I had the skills to make my move, I did. When you’re ready, you’ll get the responsibility you want, will maybe make a move of your own. Until then, don’t question me again,” I said.

Sergei didn’t look completely satisfied, but he nodded.

“Besides,” I said, “you might find you don’t want so much responsibility.”

Sergei shook his head. “No. I was made for this, Maxim. I can’t do anything else,” he said.

“I know. That’s why I keep you around,” I said, expressing a rarely given compliment. If nothing else, I’d never doubted his suitability for this way of life. The only question was whether his still-impetuous nature would be his undoing.

Sergei smiled. “And here I thought it was because of my shining personality,” he said.

I didn’t dignify that with a response but instead said, “Be patient. Your time will come, probably sooner than you think.”

He nodded. “Going to trust you, though I suppose I have no choice.” He paused and then continued. “So this guy, Priest, the one you gave my job?” he said with a smile.

“What about him?” I asked.

“You let him back in. I’ve never seen you do that before. You trust him,” Sergei said.

“To the extent I can. He was with the Syndicate for many years and was a valuable asset when he was on his own,” I said. A simplistic explanation of the nature of Priest’s and my history, but the things that had transpired between us before were of no consequence. He was again proving his worth, and I valued his presence.

“And you let him come back?”

“Yes,” I said. I had, and doing so had been an easy decision. Priest’s value far outweighed any raised eyebrows his presence might have caused.

“So you’re not worried that he might try something?” Sergei asked.

“Perhaps, though our interests are aligned, so he won’t,” I said.

“You sound confident,” Sergei said.

“I am,” I said.

“What about Santo?” Sergei asked, his expression darkening to reflect the anger I felt.

“I’m less certain what he will do, but it’s time to handle unfinished business,” I said.

S
enna

I
went directly
to the kitchen, deciding I would try a new recipe, perhaps my attempt at an apology, though I didn’t fully believe I had anything to apologize for. Still, the urge to smooth the earlier conflict was there. I knew my efforts would be wasted on him.

But that wouldn’t stop me from trying.

I smiled as I moved through the kitchen, my mind went directly back to those early days…

N
ine Years Ago

S
he glanced out the window
, not exactly sure where they were.

France, she thought, but she couldn’t say with certainty. They had gone to California at first, then England, then New York, then back to England…

Eventually, she had stopped keeping track.

They’d been here for a while, though, and it seemed they would be for a while to come. He’d brought several bags of groceries, a sign that he expected this to be a longer stay.

Usually, he brought takeout, and while Senna never wanted to see another fast-food hamburger, one might have been preferable to his “groceries.”

A random assortment of canned goods, some ground pepper, and a single orange. Maxim had opened one of the cans and eaten whatever had been inside without bothering to heat it. Senna had eaten the orange and made the best of the canned goods, but after his second trip, she’d been desperate, so she’d spoken up.

“Umm…can I go to the store, buy the food?” she’d asked tentatively one day.

“Buy” wasn’t really the right word. Senna had no idea what country they were in, let alone the currency, and even if she had, there was the small matter of not having a cent to her name.

She’d watched him, trying to gauge his response, wondering if she had made a mistake speaking. Probably, but there had been no alternative. She’d lost weight, not necessarily a bad thing, but she was hungry all the time, and though her circumstances didn’t leave much room for pickiness, Maxim’s preferred diet of whatever was within arm’s reach wasn’t working for her.

To her relief, he’d nodded and from then on, she’d been in charge of meals. It was a small thing, meaningless in the grand scheme, but she was happy to have real food again. And she had wanted to give him something, repay him in whatever way she could.

Those first days had been numbing, the shock of what had happened too much for her mind to process, but soon, that shock had started to lessen and the reality of her situation hit her head-on.

She knew Maxim wasn’t a good guy. He knew the scum who had killed her parents, and her instincts, even though she’d been a sheltered only child, were sharp enough that she recognized him for the predator that he was.

But he’d never harmed her, hadn’t gone out of his way to be particularly friendly either, but she trusted him. She shouldn’t have, even if she put aside the circumstances of their meeting. His coldness, the calculating way he looked at her, the way he always seemed to be taking her measure should have been more than enough to stifle any warm feelings she had toward him. Still, in the face of all reason, she felt that little ember of connection, something almost like endearment.

“Do you have favorites?” she’d asked one day after dinner.

“No,” he said, looking at her.

“Nothing?” she asked, surprised by his answer.

“Where I come from, you get what you get, can’t be too picky,” he said.

“Where do you come from?” she asked, taking the opportunity to utter the question that had been on her mind, one of the many she hadn’t dared ask.

“Nowhere you want to know about,” he’d said.

“That’s not an answer,” she’d replied before she could stop herself.

“It’s my answer,” he’d replied, signaling the end of that conversation.

S
enna

T
hat was
one of my favorite memories of him, and that day had marked the turning point for me, was a clear line that marked my life before and after. It was funny because Maxim still hadn’t told me where he was from, hadn’t told me very much at all.

Our relationship was undefined, probably strange to the outside world, but I didn’t care. That didn’t matter. I didn’t need to know where he was from, know his last name, didn’t need any of those things. Because I knew Maxim better than anyone on the planet, just as he knew me.

M
axim

S
ergei stayed for a while longer
, and we discussed several other items of business, including Santo. But even after he left, I lingered in my office. It was well into the night, and I knew she would soon be sleeping, but still I waited longer, and then finally went to the living area.

I didn’t often avoid her, but when I thought of my reaction earlier, the way I had felt when I saw Sergei’s arm around her waist, I decided space was in order. I had done well over the years, not allowing my mind to go there, rarely allowing myself to think about her as anything other than a distraction, someone I had decided to provide safety and material comfort for but nothing more.

Seeing Sergei’s arm around her, though, the easy, warm familiarity between them, coupled with our earlier conversation about how they were “friends,” had me on edge, and me being on edge was something I needed to get under control before I dealt with anyone, especially Senna.

When I finally went upstairs, I went into the kitchen and saw the plate she had left for me. I ate my dinner quickly, telling myself the whole time that I didn’t care, that this little gesture didn’t mean anything to me. Preparing food for me was the least she could do. It said nothing about how she may have felt for me.

All of that was true, perhaps, but the gesture, even after all these years, still got to me despite the distance I tried to keep.

I cultivated relationships that were based on transactional exchanges. The Syndicate provided product, protection, and clean money; we got paid for our services. Care certainly never came into it. But Senna was in many ways an exception, completely unique in my life, so that small gesture, even after I had been so dismissive and rude, meant something to me.

I should thank her.

After I dropped my fork, I stood and went into her room. I would usually find her sitting in a chair reading a book, maybe watching television, but she was nowhere to be seen.

I heard the shower turn on and followed the sound, knowing with each step I should have stopped. I didn’t, though, and instead looked through the partially open door. My gaze was riveted to the glass enclosure, the warm water steaming the glass but not enough to completely shroud her body. In fact, the water, the steam, only emphasized her shape, her beautiful dark skin that covered it.

I should’ve looked away, but instead I drank her in greedily, taking in the soft roundness of her shoulders, the fullness of her breasts, down over her hips and soft thighs. Followed her hand as she buried it between those soft thighs.

My cock was steel-hard and ready in an instant, the reaction not one I had expected. I’d never expected to see Senna doing this, never expected to want to join her so badly, replace her hand with my own.

But I couldn’t do that, so I stood there, rooted to the spot, the throbbing hardness in my pants, the way my gaze was riveted to watching her hand as it moved, making it impossible for me to leave, my resolve to not touch her making it impossible for me to go to her.

My cock throbbed, demanding relief, but I ignored it, and instead watched her hands, one anchored between her legs, the other tugging at her dark nipple. Listened to the sound of her voice, the low moans that she tried to bite back, fighting with the desire to hear that sound loud, free, unrestrained.

“Maxim…”

Her voice was low, barely audible, but I recognized the word, recognized the passion with which it was said.

It had been years since I’d heard my name fall from a woman’s lips on a breath of passion, the effort of finding someone to fuck not worth the fleeting physical relief, which was all it ever was since I never found true satisfaction. On those occasions when I had taken a woman to my bed, any sounds I might have heard were probably false or an attempt to gain some favor.

The sound Senna made, though, was different.

It was truthful, not a lie.

Senna was bringing herself pleasure, thinking of me as she did so. Disbelief shifted to desire in less than one heartbeat, leaving me struggling to process what I’d heard, how much I wanted to touch her. My body had no such trouble. It was primed, ready for her, and it was only as I took my first step that I realized I was moving toward her.

I stopped. Doing so required everything I had, but I managed to stay in place, my mind still warring with my body.

It was only when I heard the water turn off that I was able to make myself leave.

S
enna

I
dried
myself quickly and made my way out of the bathroom, embarrassment burning beneath my skin, but nothing in the face of the satisfaction I felt.

This had been my dirty little secret for years, my way of relieving myself when the loneliness got to be too much. No matter what, anytime I touched myself, I wished my hands were his, and when I climaxed, my only thought was of him.

I reached the bathroom door and paused as I noticed it was open.

I was certain I had closed it.

Oh God. Had someone been in here? Adrian wouldn’t come up here, which left only Maxim. The mortifying thought of him having seen me, heard me, made me pause for a moment, but I dismissed the thought, tried to dismiss the horror that came over me.

Maxim had a terrible habit of not knocking, but he would have heard the shower and left, and he was mad at me anyway, so he wouldn’t be down tonight.

That justification was enough to get me moving, and I dressed for bed. He hadn’t seen me, I reassured myself.

But next time, I’d make sure I locked the door.