Page 28 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
Maxim watches me cry, his expression unreadable. Then he crouches before me, and his heavy sigh ruffles my wayward curls. “You were right to question me,” he admits, bringing his mouth against my ear. “Separating you from me was foolish. It won’t happen again.”
“Who was it?” I ask as the chaos replays in my mind over and over. “Was it your grandfather?”
His upper lip pulls back from his teeth. “I don’t know,” he snarls. “But I will find them. They will pay—”
“Sir?” The door opens, and Tomas enters.
“What the hell is it?” Maxim whirls around, but before he can utter another word, Tomas approaches him and whispers something into his ear. Whatever he says makes Maxim’s entire body stiffen. The next second he’s barreling into the hallway, and I have to run to keep up.
At first, I don’t know what makes him stop at the edge of the club floor. His erect posture is alarming, but nothing compared to how I’d assume he’d act in the face of an armed intruder. For one, he doesn’t draw a weapon. Instead, his body ripples with barely concealed tension—but that’s the odd part. He’s trying tohideit.
I discover the answer to the mystery once I spot the lanky figure leaning against the bar, admiring a bottle of liquor. He’s tall and alarmingly thin. His body barely shapes the gray sweatshirt he wears paired with light wash jeans. Wild dark hair obscures his face from this angle, but his pale fingers betray an unusual grace as he twirls the bottle between them.
“I hear you’ve been looking for me,” he says without turning around. “Well, you’ve found me, little Maxi. What do you want?”
Maxim observes the other figure in a way that can only be described as hostile. His fingers flex at his sides as if he has to consciously keep them from forming fists. “It’s about damn time you’ve crawled out of hiding, Vadim.”
“Oh?” Vadim cocks his head, still facing away from us. “Unlike you, I don’t dwell in the lap of luxury. I am, in the open, as they say. Easy to find.” He has an accent as well, though it’s less pronounced than Maxim’s and harder to place. British? Russian? French? He speaks with a blend of several different inflections. “And it’s funny that you sought me out. Considering you threatened to kill me if I ever set foot in your precious city again. I took your sudden change of heart as an invitation to visit. Nice place—”
“You know what the fuck I want.” Maxim advances a dangerous step, but Vadim doesn’t seem to notice. Or care. He lazily tosses his bottle into the air, catching it one-handed.
“Enough games,” Maxim warns. “Let’s cut to the heart of it. Stand with me against Anatoli. You know I will make it worth your while.”
“Is that so?” I jump as Vadim barks out an unexpectedly harsh note of laughter. Compared to the musical quality of his voice, the sound rings like an off note in an otherwise pretty piece of piano music. “You think I give a damn about your money?”
“No.” Maxim flexes his arms, adjusting the fit of his suit. “But did I say anything about money?”
“What else could you be willing to offer? Hmm?” Vadim finally inclines his head to observe us with the same scrutiny Maxim inspects him with. I feel my mouth fall open as I take him in. He’s beautiful—but in a different way than Maxim could ever be.
Instead of harsh, violent appeal, this man could only be described asdelicate. His swanlike throat and graceful jaw are comparable to meticulously crafted glass in contrast to Maxim’s powerful bulk. But his eyes…
They’re a shade so dark they seem to glow, even from this distance.
“Do tell,” he prompts, waving his hand expectantly through the air. “You have my full attention.”
“I’ll give you a piece of my so-called empire,” Maxim replies, crossing his arms. “That’s what you crave, isn’t it? That which was alwaysmine.”
“Oh no…” Vadim leans back against the counter, still fiddling with the bottle. The motion displays him from a different angle, making it apparent how young he is. Maybe in his early thirties, like Maxim. Or even younger—but whatever his age, he’s nowhere near naïve. A guarded calculation shapes everything from his perusing gaze down to the quirk of his chin. He’s ready for an attack at any moment. “Crave? I think the correct phrasing is ‘what I’m owed.’”
“Discuss my terms, and you can have it,” Maxim suggests. “What little scraps I’m willing to give.”
“Scraps…” Vadim runs a hand through his hair, parting the thick black strands. He observes a particularly long section, his nose wrinkling in disapproval. “You must think I’m stupid, Maxi,” he says, returning his attention to the other man. “A stupid fucking prick, huh? Even from my little hidey-hole, I’ve heard the rumors. That lately you’ve started collecting your dolls, rather than just fucking them.” He eyes me pointedly and sighs. “An amusing little anecdote. Following in the footsteps of our dear old man, I see? What is she? Some obscure countess you aim to impregnate before chopping her to pieces—”
“Is that what the rumors say?” Maxim interjects—but my brain remains stuck on three words.Our old man...I barely comprehend what he says next, “I knew you were wallowing in your shame, Vadim. But obsession? It’s beneath you.”
“So is lying, Maxi,” the other man scolds, wagging his finger. Was his insinuation a joke or something more? I can’t tell. The only similarity I can find between the two is icy, ruthless confidence. “But you’ve always been good at that,” Vadim adds. “Lying. Scheming. Backstabbing. How does the saying go? You can take the boy out of the whore, but not the whore out of the boy—”
“Enough.” Teeth bared, Maxim advances another impulsive step. “Watch yourself.”
“I’vealsoheard that someone’s pissed off the old man,” Vadim says, seemingly unconcerned. “He doesn’t seem to care who you fuck, but the day little Maxi decides to take a wife? The old man issues a bounty. Have you stopped to wonder why? It isn’t like him to panic so easily. Not to mention, his favorite doggie’s gone missing. Though you wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? While he may let you run your little empire on the side—” He gestures around us with a wave of his hand, indicating the club itself. “Anatoli wouldn’t react kindly to a direct challenge. And you’ve been such a dutiful servant all this time. Why risk it now?”
Maxim says nothing, but Vadim nods as if he has.
“Ah… I see. You weresloppy.” He grins, displaying perfectly white teeth. “Sloppy and reckless. If I can suspect as much, you can believe the old man has. It’s why he’s gone out of his way to bring you to heel. Oh yes, you’ve been a bad boy, little Maxi—”
“And you need to decide what role you want to play,Dima,” Maxim snarls in a tone so harsh I suck in a breath. “As a player? Or as the stray mutt, you’ve always been? Milton can’t protect you forever.”
“Maybe.” Vadim flicks his tongue over his lips. “Milton wants me to play nice and assist in your little war. What he really wants is for you to break from your chains and claim the city for yourself so he can stop worrying where your loyalties lie. But me? Maybe I should watch Anatoli rip you apart and find another whipping boy to serve as his figurehead? One could say I’ve dreamt about it...”
