Page 43 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
Chapter Ten
The house itself turns out to be far more incredible than I initially realized. The open floor plan is centered around a breathtaking view of the square-shaped pool and the ocean beyond it. Wide, open windows allow in a sea-salt tinged breeze that displaces some of the heat, making the air feel more comfortable than the most intense air-conditioning.
There aren’t many rooms in total either. The girls share a spacious suite in one wing while the boys share another. I’m struck by the careful planning of the layout as Maxim leads me on this impromptu tour, his hair still dripping wet. Our only detour is a trip to the closet of the master bedroom, where he changes into another linen shirt and plain slacks. There I discover an array of women’s clothing hanging alongside his, conveniently coordinated to match. I slip into a loose-fitting white sundress and make a mental note to explore the rest of my wardrobe later.
“It’s a fairly new acquisition,” Maxim explains as we follow a wide hallway next, accented by windows that look out onto the terrace. From here, I can see the kids, clamoring to ride the carousel. “Even I have yet to explore it fully. Though there are a few…necessities that I insisted upon before closing.”
Necessities? I decide to overlook voicing such a loaded question in favor of something far more harmless. “Where is my room?”
“Where? You’ve seen it.” He gestures in the direction of his master suite.Ourmaster suite, apparently.
“Oh. But when I was with Ainsley, you said…” A sudden realization chokes me off. He suggested I sleep with her in ‘my room’—which really meant he would forfeit his own bed entirely.
“Come.” I look over to find him inclining his head. “There is one final feature I want to show you.”
I follow him warily into the suite. This time, he approaches a door opposite the bathroom, near the bed. Another closet?
“Open it,” Maxim says without explanation. “My one request before I would commit to buying the property...”
The grim commentary comes as I reach for the curved, metal handle. I tug, but rather than open automatically, I sense a slight give, and my ears pick up a mechanical sound before the door finally comes loose.
“It is now bio-metrically activated.” I look over my shoulder to find Maxim advancing, his expression unreadable. “Only you or I can unlock it.”
“Really?” I observe my fingers, too terrified to face what might be waiting beyond the door just yet.
“Come.” As if aware of my hesitation, he takes my hand and steps around me, leading the way into the mysterious space. His bulk blocks my view initially. I can only make out a short hallway though the echoing sound of our footsteps alludes to a much larger area beyond it.
“It’s still…rough,” Maxim says as he maneuvers me to stand beside him. “I had the construction rushed to ensure it would be usable, but it will suffice. For now.”
Itbeing a near-identical replica of the “toy” room from his penthouse in the city—only white marble flooring makes the space seem even more isolated than the black. It’s a stark canvas in a sense, incapable of hiding any stains; something I suspect he’s planned on. A marble altar-shaped platform sports a thin, white pad for comfort, and a row of metal cabinets must contain whatever a man like him might need to indulge his inclinations toward sadism.
“Do you still agree to this?” His fingers slip beneath my chin, guiding me to face him directly.
Do I? Deep down, I sense that the answer is more important to him than the fact that we’re standing in a sex room designed for pain and pleasure. He still wants my consent.
“The rules won’t change,” he adds. “If you want me to stop, you—”
“I know,” I say.
“And?” His thumb traces the ball of my chin, making my breathing hitch with every traversed inch. “You aren’t one for nuance, but I sense there is more you want to say.”
And he’s right. I suck in a breath and release it on a single question. “When we return to the city, will things go back to how they were before?”
Him dwelling primarily alone in his secluded penthouses while I live apart from my family.
He strokes my cheek. “Only if you want them to...”
* * *
We return downstairs,and Maxim leads me through an impressive kitchen with a view of the terrace. Without a word of explanation, he proceeds to stockpile several items from the fridge and a walk-in pantry into his arms. Meat. Veggies. Bread. I watch him in silence, intrigued by the potential uses for the ingredients. Fodder for the kids to throw at the shooting game, maybe?
Once on the terrace, he approaches a metal grill and confidently rolls up his sleeves. As he fires up the range, his true intent becomes crystal clear, and I suck in a startled breath.
He plans to cook dinner. Forus.
As impossible as it seems in theory, the scent of grilled meat wafts across the lawn within minutes—a far cry from the polished, cold dinners I’ve come to associate him with.
The backdrop of the ocean breeze and the distant murmur of crashing waves create a cozy, casual aura. Even the kids are enticed enough to trudge in from the dispersing carnival, exhausted and dripping with sweat.
