Page 74 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
Chapter Nineteen
The second Dima leaves, Maxim appears by my side. “Come,” he demands from behind me. By the time I stand and face his direction, he’s already lumbering toward his private room, his steps slow and deliberate. As I cross the threshold in his wake, he keeps going until he’s forced to brace his hands against the far wall, his back still to me.
“I know he told you lies,” he hisses before I can say anything. “I know he fed you twisted ideas. But if I let his claims go unchallenged, I only have myself to blame. So here—” He points to the bed. On it is a silver folder, and the sight of it unnerves me almost as much as his rasping tone does. “Open it.”
I approach the bed cautiously and stoop for the file. It’s surprisingly heavy, and my heart skips as I peruse the documents within. I have no fucking clue what it might contain. Another contract? The deed to the house? Or something far more puzzling…
A frown tugs on my mouth as I scan the printed documents. They’re phrased in legal terms, and considering I have yet to finish one semester of college, I can barely make sense of them. Some kind of declaration? It isn’t until I read the last few lines that I finally register one crucial detail that makes my knees buckle in alarm.
His name.
It’s printed wrong. A single X denotes his last name on every single page instead of Koslov, and I rub at my eyes, refusing to believe it.
Maxim X.
“I don’t understand,” I start to say. But then it clicks, and a wave of shock knocks me off balance. I sway, grasping at the mattress, my throat unbearably tight. My head swivels toward him so quickly my neck throbs in response. “You… You changed your name.”
I struggle to say it. Given his feelings on being a Koslov, I can’t believe it, either. Not until I see him. Still hunched against the wall, he stands with his spine bowed, exposed to any reaction I might have.
“You gave up your name for me?” I whisper.
“You were right.” His accent sounds so heavy, as if each word is being ripped from the pit of his chest. “That name isn’t fitting for a family. Admittedly, this one is just temporary. But I am willing to take on any one you want to claim what I am owed.”
Me.
“W-Why?” I ask hoarsely. “I thought—”
“Do you refuse it?”
“No!” I lurch to my feet and stagger toward him. My fingers claw at his forearm until he pivots. Our eyes meet, and the emotion in his takes my breath away. They’re wide, so dark they’re fucking fathomless. I greedily hunt down whatever emotions they might reveal, but he turns away, averting his gaze.
“Don’t…” I’m begging. I’m too desperate to care. “Look at me. Please.”
Sighing, he stiffens, and I take his jaw between my fingers, making him face me.
“Dima said the name Koslov was a creed,” he admits, fisting his fingers through my hair, holding me captive in return. “And he was right. If I gave you that name, you would never be safe—and not from Anatoli or his fucking bastard pawns. But from me. You would never be safe fromme. If I lost control, I could always blame it on that fucking creed. I have already, haven’t I?”
He stares down at his hands in remembrance of the damage they can inflict on a whim.
“By hiding behind that name, I could lie to you and claim that it was all I knew.” The line of his jaw tightens as he captures my waist, dragging me against him. Near my ear, he confesses, “Even before I saw you in that dress… I knew what needed to be done. What I needed to sacrifice to keep you. I’ve done it.”
“But what about your grandfather?” I ask as my brain restarts, running through every potential danger his name change might enhance.Anatoli. Dima. The future.There are so fucking many. “What about—”
“I can’t think about him.” He grips my chin, guiding me to look up at him. Dark and hollow, his eyes bore into mine, going deeper than ever before. In some ways, it feels like he’s ripping me open more intimately than he could with a whip or during sex.
“And I don’t need Dima to come to my rescue either,” he snaps. “Whatever happens, I will face it... But I will need you to do one last thing for me.”
“Anything.” My brain is still struggling to process the gravity of what he’s done. I’m numb with shock, barely aware of what I’m saying. “I’ll do anything.”
His nostrils flare at the intensity of the promise. I’ve never seen him so fucking charged. Raw power emanates from him, putting any previous authority he commanded to shame.
“Anything?” I tremble in anticipation at the hunger thickening his tone. He’ll put that word to the test later, I’m sure. But now? He smooths his fingers along my jaw, tracing every divot and curve in my skin. “I need you to play in one last game for me.”
“What?”
“I want you to pick another dress.” He runs his fingers along my spine, and cups my lower back, snatching me to his chest. I grasp his shoulders, forced to stand on tiptoe. The added height brings my forehead near his mouth, and his lips find my temple. “Not as yourself, or even for me—but as the kitten who dug her claws into me. Wearing it, I want you to stand by my side, no matter the outcome. Can you do that?”
I don’t have to ask him for clarification this time. An ominous thrill shoots through my entire body as I grip him tighter in agreement.
