Page 57 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
Chapter Fourteen
Milton’s visit shatters what little semblance of peace we’d managed to cobble together—but the most alarming part in the aftermath is how everyone, from Maxim to Lucius, still manages to pretend like nothing is wrong. At least around the kids. It is “normalcy” pushed to its very fucking limits.
I should be grateful for that.
Maxim doesn’t brood around them, becoming a vicious stranger in a heartbeat. He disappears instead, leaving me alone to keep up the façade.
But I’m a sleepwalker, trapped in the nightmare of Dima’s insinuation.How dare you put an innocent in harm’s way?
When the kids return from the beach, we eat pasta around the center island in the kitchen, courtesy of Lucius, who serves as head chef in Maxim’s absence. They chatter on about jet skis and swimming, innocently oblivious to the looming danger. Danger, I put them in.
That guilt robs me of my appetite. All I can do is pick at my plate while my mind spins in turmoil. When the kids finally trickle off to bed, I’m on edge, and Maxim is nowhere to be found.
Unease creeps in as I start to search for him.
He isn’t in the bedroom or the bathroom, or even the infamous “other room” when I gather the nerve to check. For all I know, he could be gone already, heading back to the city without so much as a goodbye.
Would that bother me? I’m surprised by the ache knotting in my chest at the possibility.Yes.It would.
It fucking would.
Even as the fear sets in, I can’t ignore the intuitive sense that he’s still here—as if there’s a taste lingering in the air, unique only to his brand of rage. My nostrils flare as I try to pinpoint his exact location. In a way, doing so feels a bit like some creepy, childhood game.Find the mafia boss in the haystack.And yet…
There’s a skill to it. Knowing where he’d go to rage in peace. Somewhere where he can presumably do the least amount of damage to avoid alarming the kids—if he truly does care about their comfort. Somewhere open and unconfined, too, like the wild expanse of lawn beyond the terrace…
I slip out through the kitchen doors and cut past the pool, guided by the last shreds of daylight. A blood-red sunset bathes everything in a fiery glow, enhancing every nuance of the landscape.
Namely the lone figure pacing on the very outskirts of the property, far beyond the view from the house.
The dusky glow ignites his golden hair, illuminating the panes of his face and enhancing the rage shaping them. When he spots me, his entire body goes rigid, a creature apart from the man I spent the last few days in paradise with.
Fear nearly paralyzes me. Only God knows what keeps me moving, tiptoeing through the grass on bare feet.
“I’m leaving in the morning,” he declares when I approach him. I jump at his tone. His voice resonates as deeply as a roar of thunder, and I half expect lightning to strike. “You and your siblings will be moved to another location. I’ll send for you when I’m ready.”
My heart lurches. Another move. Another gameboard. Another stint as a pawn. “Please, just slow down,” I say. “We should talk about this—”
“Talk?” He whips around so swiftly I stagger an instinctive step back. Alarm stimulates every nerve in my body, urging escape.Run!“Do you really think you can dictate to me?” he wonders, his teeth bared.
No, a part of me whimpers in defeat. I’m no match for him when he’s like this. Some things can’t change. You can’t cage a wolf—eventually, it will go for your throat.
The only option is to give in. Surrender to the inevitable fact that we’ll always be back at square one. He’ll always be a stranger, lost to rage. To him, peace was never worth chasing.
And a future with him will never be normal.
“Go into the house,” he growls, resigned to the same outcome. “Now—”
“Please…” I take a step toward him. Then another as he falls silent. Cracks disrupt my brave façade however—my fingers shake when I reach out, finding his chest…
And all of my fear vanishes, replaced by a throbbing, inescapable concern. His heart is hammering, his chest heaving with shallow breaths. Up this close, I can sense everything he uses the rage to mask. He’s panicked. He’s breaking. He’s losing control.
“You believe him, don’t you?” he surmises, his eyes narrowed. “That I will hurt you. Hurt your children. I saw your face. You believehim—”
“I don’t know what to believe,” I say, taking another step. “But I want to trust you.”
“Go.” He turns away, glaring into the distance. “I need to be alone.”
“You needme,” I whisper, surprised by how true that statement seems the more I touch him. I slide my hand up to his shoulder, tracking how he flinches in response. “Talk to me—”
