Page 68 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
That wall will always remain between us—literally. Only in some dark room, deep in the night, can he ever face the trauma shaping him. And he will always choose to face it alone.
“Are you alright, Miss?” Tomas wonders from the driver’s seat. Alarm deepens his tone as he reaches for his pocket, presumably for a cell phone. “Did you change your mind about the house? If you are not satisfied, I’m sure Mr. Koslov will—”
“No,” I croak, waving him off. “I’m fine. It’s just…”
I look down, surprised to find my fingers interlaced, the nails digging in. I’d been pinching myself without realizing it. I’ve already broken the skin—a bead of blood bubbles from the tiny wound, and my eyes fixate on the color.
Red.That fucking hue dominates my life now, a reminder of the violence that comes with Maxim Koslov. The insanity. The death. The rage.
If I ever did marry him, there is no way in hell I could ever wear white. Just this goddamn color that’s come to drench our lives.
Red.
“Ms. Marconi?” Tomas inquires, sounding more alarmed.
“I want you to take me somewhere,” I say, wiping at my eyes with the sleeve of my coat. “I don’t want you to ask for Maxim’s permission either. I don’t want him to know where I am. If you don’t know the address, Lucius will—”
“Do you understand what you are asking?” Tomas wonders, his voice soft.
I’m asking for him to risk pissing off an employer who isn’t like any other. But I’m learning that it takes more than desperation to win a game. It requires a reckless willingness to gamble.
Everything.
“Please,” I insist. “I need to do this alone.”
“Miss…” I can visibly see him wrestle with the dilemma of informing Maxim or deferring to me. The second directive, must outweigh the first. At least in this instance.
“As you wish,” he concedes with a sigh. “Though if you are in any danger, I will be forced to inform Mr. Koslov immediately. And I will only be able to maintain silence for a few hours, at the most. You understand.”
“I won’t be in any danger,” I admit. “Though I’m afraid that you’ll probably be incredibly bored.”
* * *
Not for the first time,I face my reflection and barely recognize the woman staring back. Yards of silken fabric spill from her slender body, conveying a cruel, twisted imitation of the perfect, beautiful creation most girls spend their entire lives envisioning.
In my case, the concept is more abstract than that of a beautiful gown fit for a princess, or a symbolic representation of what should be the best day of my life.
This dress is a promise, conveyed in glaring, contrasting shades of white and bloody red.
This is the life I’m willing to sign up for. The trade, I’m finally able to make—a harmony of violence and security. Death and life. Blood and the purity left behind once it’s all washed away.
Looking at myself now, I realize that this is the only gown befitting of someone insane enough to marry Maxim Koslov.
“I must admit the overall effect is stunning,” the designer exclaims as she races around me, pinning various pieces of fabric in place. “I do adore the original, more traditional concept. But traditions were made to be…adapted.” She adjusts the scarlet bodice that hugs my torso before flaring out into a wide, billowing skirt. The base is every bit the beautiful dress Maxim first envisioned. But as the viewer’s eye rises, swaths of scarlet intermingle with the ivory, consuming the gown entirely by the level of my chest.
I don’t look wide-eyed and innocent in this design. I look like I’m bleeding from my heart, drenched in the color I’ve come to dread. In some ways, it’s beautiful. In others, it’s fucking terrifying.
But I’m tired of hiding from it.
“I can finish the alterations in a few days,” the designer says while continuing to make more adjustments. “I think the color is lovely, but if you wanted to add a deeper red here—” She breaks off, gasping as a monstrous thud resonates from the entrance of the boutique—the door slamming hard enough to rattle the fragile glass.
His expression like thunder, the culprit storms in, his dark eyes flashing as they find me. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he growls, brandishing a clenched fist at Tomas, who stands alert beside a rack of clothing. “You ordermymen to hide you from me? I had to have fucking Lucius—” He breaks off as he finally takes in my appearance. “I…”
His mouth opens and closes wordlessly. Then he blinks and rakes a trembling hand through his hair. In the end, all he seems capable of doing is staring. His gaze traces the contours of my dress, tracking the blend of color and the bold shape. It’s impossible to tell what he’s thinking from here.
Rather than dwell on it, I face him with my head held high, my shoulders back. “How is this for a trade?”
He swallows hard, his throat rasping until he finally manages to spit out a handful of words. “I…I’ll be in the car.”
