Page 13 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“Ms. Marconi?” I look up to find Lucius watching me from beside the car. “Are you alright?”
“Y-Yes.” I stagger the rest of the way toward him. “I’m fine.”
“Good. We have a few moments to spare before Mr. Koslov suggested you return. In the meantime, I can take you by your family’s home,” he suggests while ushering me into the backseat. “I know that Ainsley, for one, can’t wait to see you.” A rare grin tugs at his mouth, and I force a smile in response.
“It feels like ages since I’ve been home,” I admit.
Ages since I’ve had to clean up decapitated Barbie dolls or break up fistfights. Since I’ve had to confront my family and lie to their faces.
And it feels like it’s been even longer since I’ve had a say in my own wardrobe. The item within the box turns out to be a dress after all—black velvet with a high, modest collar. The kind of outfit someone might dress his supposed fiancée in while parading her before a man who raised a family of monsters and murderers.
“Ms. Marconi?” Lucius asks. “Was that a yes?”
“Y-Yes! Thank you. That would be great.” I look down, and my gaze drifts from the black dress to my ring. My ears are still ringing with two ominous words.Mrs. Koslov.“I need to talk to them.”
“That you do. But if I may make a suggestion…” Lucius eyes me in the rearview mirror, and a frown strains his normally professional expression. “Mr. Koslov can be insistent when it comes to his point of view, but if you are uneasy with the pace of current events, you must tell him.”
“Uneasy?” I echo. Though it’s no use feigning innocence when I can barely look at the item of clothing on my lap.
Lucius nods while effortlessly melding into the thick of traffic. “I saw your face just now, if I may be blunt. After the fitting. You seemed uncomfortable.”
Shock paints my cheeks scarlet. “I… I…” I don’t know what to say. “You aren’t just talking about the dress,” I finally croak. “Are you?”
“I’m afraid not.” He clears his throat, and I sit forward in anticipation. Rarely does he reveal snippets of his secretive employer. I think the only other time was during one of our first meetings when he issued a warning—my client has unusual tastes, Francesca.
“I’ve been working for Mr. Koslov for over ten years,” he continues. “I would like to think I know him better than most—so when I say that the effect you have on him has been…dramatic, to say the least, I hope you take my words at face value. And I hope I may take this time to impart a bit of advice.”
I swallow hard, wringing my fingers together. The note caught between them is crumpled in the aftermath, made smaller and smaller the more I twist and pinch. “What do you mean?”
“While I may have known him for more than half of your life, I suspect that you know more of his past than I will ever learn. More than I care to know, if I’m being frank. He’s not an easy man to work for, but he is a loyal and just employer. If he happens to have a few…quirks that may make him seem unapproachable to most, well, that is beyond my place to say. But everyone, no matter who they are, needs an outlet. A release. Someone.” His tone deepens with unsaid meaning, and seconds pass without him saying another word. Then he sighs, and that single sound betrays just how old he really is. How exhausted he is. “A life devoid of that simple luxury, can make a man act out in ways he might regret. I am well aware of what happened last night,” he adds, shocking me with how unperturbed he sounds at the prospect of murder. “It wasn’t the first time he has called me to clean up such…lapses in judgment. Those calls have not stopped since you’ve been with him, either. But the nature of them has changed. He has changed. You may not notice it. And with everything you’ve been through, maybe you don’t care to. That is your prerogative, to be fair. But…” He sighs again before confessing, “I feel like I sound a bit like a gossiping old woman, but I think you need to hear this. Heed this one piece of advice—be honest with yourself. Be honest with him. It may seem impossible now, but a man like him has built his entire life around rejection. You can trust he knows how to survive it. But deception?” He tilts his head, his brows furrowing. “Thatwould inflict a wound I doubt even Mr. Koslov could come back from. And deception can be an innocent thing at first. One might not even realize that their intent is insidious at all. Lying to someone,” he adds with a shrug. “Pretending to feel things that you do not—or even worse. Lying to yourself. Misrepresenting your emotions because you cannot face them. Take charge of them. You are too wracked by fear to take ownership of what you desire while understanding what ittrulyisat its core. Do you understand what I mean?”
Our gazes meet in the rearview mirror, and I nod once. A creeping, aching sensation spreads throughout my stomach.Deception.Is that what I’ve been doing?
“I don’t want to hurt him,” I admit, my voice hoarse.
“Of course, you don’t.” He sounds like he truly believes that. “But tell me something. A hunter comes across a wolf and learns to care for it. He feeds it. Nourishes it. And then he locks it in a small cage because it is a difficult thing to care for a wild creature. To understand the freedom it needs. To trust that it will always return to you. That hunter may admire its beauty, and its power, and its brutal strength. But how can he trust that such a creature won’t turn on him? And the wolf, it cares for the hunter as well, you see. But even such a creature can sense the fear in the other. So it tries to deny its nature and pretend it enjoys its life within captivity. But instinct can only be ignored for so long… Until one day, the wolf lashes out from behind its bars, mortally wounding the hunter. And they both die, each never truly knowing the other.”
“What are you saying?” The picture he painted is in my head, replaying in a morbid loop.Death. Death. Death.
“I’m saying that love is in trust,” he warns. “Notfear. Though that was merely a silly story, of course. And you must recall that you’re relationship with Mr. Koslov was built on a contract first and foremost. An understanding. From the outside, it might have appeared odd. Imbalanced, even. But was it?”
He waits long enough that the resulting silence demands an answer.
“No,” I admit. “I could always walk away.”
“And you still can,” he warns. “I apologize for the aimless chatter. Nonetheless, I appreciate your time. We should be arriving shortly.”
He refocuses his attention on the road, and his professional demeanor returns. In some ways, it feels like he’s drawn an invisible curtain between us, cutting off my chance to reply.
Beg for more.
More snippets of a man who hoards his past so fucking jealously.
But I’m desperate enough to risk it, testing the bars of my own invisible cage. “What if, in your story…” I lick my lips, they’re so fucking dry. My hands shake, and the crumpled note falls to the floor, bouncing beneath the driver’s seat. “What makes you think the hunter loved the wolf?”
Seconds tick by, but he doesn’t answer. Only the hum of the engine fills the silence between us—and my heartbeat. It beats faster. Harder. It’s all I can hear.Thump. Thump. Thump!
Reaching out, I place my hand on the back of Lucius’ seat. “Please—”
