Page 21 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
Chapter Five
For what feels like hours, all I can do is lie still, listening to the cadence of his footsteps echo. He’s pacing. It isn’t long before his voice reaches back to me, though directed at someone else.
“You found him?” he demands. “I knew it! Where? Don’t bullshit me, Milton, your men are more accurate than that. No, I won’t kill him. Yet. And why even ask? Don’t tell me that after all this time you still harbor some ounce of pity for the son of a bitch? I didn’t think you were so sentimental. You were children then, after all…”
He must hang up. After a few minutes of silence, heavy footsteps fill the absence in the wake of his baritone, advancing slowly in my direction. He takes his time, lingering in the hallway, just beyond the door. He’s testing me, I think. Knowing I’m awake but wanting to draw out the tension and extend every last second of brutal anticipation.
Unchecked, my pulse flutters beneath my skin, each frantic beat counting the seconds down.Thump. Thump. Thump…
“Your family is safe,” he finally says. “They’re in a property outside of the city. I’ll take you to them in the morning. Together, you will be moved to a more secure location.”
I sit upright, still draped beneath the bedsheets. The darkness shrouds him well. I have to strain my eyes before I spot him leaning against the wall, his arms crossed. “Thank you.”
“But tonight…” He shifts, and I sense him mulling over his next words, debating uttering them at all. “I have a lead,” is all he says. “Come with me if you want—”
“Where?” I’m already scrambling to my feet.
“Get dressed. Meet me downstairs within ten minutes. Or not. You have achoice.”
I flinch, recognizing my own plea being thrown back in my face. Still, I can overlook the jab in favor of the larger prize.
Answers.
For once, tangible, real answers.
What kind of man might someone like Maxim Koslov seek out for help against his grandfather? How does this figure tie into his past? My brain spins with a million potential possibilities as I race into the closet and tug on a dress at random. It’s too tight. My nipples throb, forcing me to switch to one with a looser neckline. When I finally join Maxim in the garage, I’m panting.
He, however, sits calmly in the back seat of his car while a dutiful driver claims the wheel. The door on my end is already open, and I climb in without a word, settling beside him.
“If there is one thing you are, it’s eager,” he murmurs. He reaches for my left hand, and his thumb strokes my bare ring finger. “Perhaps, I may have broached the subject from the wrong angle?”
My heart clenches. Is this an apology?
“I forget… In some ways, you are so young—ignorant,” he continues as the driver guides the car into the street. “More often than not, it seems I misjudge you.”
He’s thoughtful tonight, his expression pensive as passing streetlights illuminate his face in various shades of neon red and green. A lack of tension makes him seem more open than usual as well. I can’t stop staring. It’s such a contrast to even a few hours ago.
“There are some things I don’t have to explain to you. But others…” He runs his fingers along my shoulder and parts my tangled hair. “You have no idea as to the lengths I would go to keep my word. Do you? Just know that when all is said and done, God himself won’t be able to dispute my claim over you. Do you understand? I need you to say it out loud—” His hand cups my chin, gently lifting it higher. “Can you give me this? Time?”
I have to inhale deeply and form each word in the base of my throat. “Y-Yes. But—” His hand stills against me. “I need to know everything. I don’t want to beignorantanymore.”
“Fine.” He turns away, letting me go, and my entire body slumps in the wake of his touch. “But first, you promise me one last thing.”
“What?”
He leans forward and grunts something to the driver. Simultaneously, the car lurches forward with a sudden burst of speed, and I scramble for my seat belt.
“I’ll let you ask what you want. I’ll answer your questions. But you keep those wide eyes in check,” Maxim warns. “If you think you can stomach my world, then you accept it. All of it. No more flinching. No more running.”
“Okay.”
“So now, ask your questions.”
“Where are we going?” I ask—a neutral enough starting point.
“Outside of the city. I have a general area of where to look,” he admits, eyeing the world racing past beyond the window. “But no key destination. Admittedly, one could say that I’m shooting in the dark.”
“Who are you looking for? One of your uncle’s men?”
