Possess(The Syndicate: Crime and Passion 1)(9)

There had to be.

My feelings were understandable. I owed Maxim my life. Trusted him with it every day, and felt completely safe and secure with him, so it made sense I’d want that feeling as much as I could.

Understandable, but not the sum of it.

I craved him, his company, his quirks, his attention. Lived for the moments when I saw more of him, when I could let myself believe that I understood him in a way that no one else did.

Was there something more to it for him than simple pity, or maybe the novelty, though that should have long run out, of having me around?

I didn’t know, and I had always been afraid to ask.

Because Maxim would tell me the truth, and that truth had the ability to devastate.

So I stayed here in this stasis, the one where I pretended that this life we lived, the insulated world we had created, was enough.





Four





Maxim



Sergei 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.