Page 22 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“Not quite.” He leans back against the seat, tilting his head away from me. “Sevastyn was never interested in surrounding himself withmen.”
Mayday.Unease floods my belly, and I flick my tongue along my lip to delay posing another question. Dealing with him sometimes is like pulling the lever on a slot machine—I never know what prize I’ll get.
Such is the risk when it comes to roulette.
There is no time to think.
Or regret.
“Tell me about him,” I ask, pulling the trigger.
“Sevastyn?” He makes a sound in his throat somewhere in between a grunt and a scoff. “He served as a liaison between my grandfather and the more senior members of the family. That position made it ideal for him to use blackmail as his weapon of choice. So like any snake, he traded in sin, tempting powerful men and women with the kind of debauchery most only acknowledge on their deathbed to a priest…”
He told me more than he meant to. Confusion disrupts his icy gaze before he refocuses it on the road. Around us, the buildings gradually decrease in height. We’re nearing the city limits.
“How do you know Milton?” I ask, aiming my focus at a less volatile target. Or so I think.
“Milton?” He grits his teeth—a habit I’m starting to connect to when he’s suppressing an instinctive need to lash out. Evade. “You could say our upbringings were similar,” he admits to my shock. “I’ve known him since I was a child. As it turns out, our goals in life converged as well. I trust him.”
It’s a surprisingly chilling concept—a child Maxim forging a friendship that would include future bonding experiences such as the dismemberment and disposal of a body. I try to picture him as an angry boy with flashing dark eyes and white-blond hair.
But I can’t.
I recall how he interacted with Milton instead. In some ways, he seemed more at ease than he is even around Lucius.
“He’s your friend?” I ask.
“He is my partner.” His tone gives that word far more reverence than the one I used. “Apart from my family’s holdings, everything in my business was built between the two of us. Everything.”
“Like the club?”
He nods. “It’s as much his as it is mine.”
Given how comfortable he feels there—especially in his private room—that simple acknowledgment conveys so much more. The place has more value to him than some piece of random property.
“What does the name stand for? XX—”
“An X for every partner with skin in the game.” He flexes his fingers, observing them one by one. “We combine our resources. Think of it as an alliance.”
“Three men for three Xs,” I deduce. “You, Milton, and…”
“Another investor.” He shrugs, crossing his arms. “I don’t know his identity. Everything goes through Milton. As long as the money flows and our business interests remain unchallenged, I don’t need to know the details. The third member has remained anonymous since the start.”
“Milton knew Sevastyn.” Or so I’m assuming from his apparent disgust when he saw the body.
“He did,” Maxim says. A dare lurks in the ensuing silence.Do you really want to know how?
Given what little I know of Sevastyn already, I don’t. Two men with similar upbringings—one of whom I know was caught up in the web of a child molester.
Ignorance may be preferable in this instance.
“I believe it’s my turn to ask some questions of my own,” Maxim says, reclaiming the reins of the conversation. His inflection doesn’t change, but I recognize the shift in subject as a warning. A plea. “I never asked you about the dress. What did you think of it?”
“It’s…white.” I gauge his reaction in glimpses snuck from the corner of my eye. “I don’t know much about religion, but I don’t think someone like me is allowed to wear that color in a church.”
“Allowed?” He raises an eyebrow. Have I surprised him? Or annoyed him? A searching look later and I’m still not sure. “I don’t think you understand the irony. As my wife, no one will dictate what you areallowedto do. Not a priest. No one.”
“No one but you?”
