Page 81 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“You’re right.” Something dampens Maxim’s expression, and he sighs, raking his fingers through his hair. “We won’t find him,” he confesses, even as Lucius continues to make phone calls rapidly in the corner.
“You are sure that he gave no clue as to his motives?” Milton wonders. “None at all?”
“He said Maxim would know what to do,” I whisper. I still hear him taunting me. I still hear Ainsley screaming…
“Is that true?” Milton turns to Maxim, an eyebrow raised. “Do you know what he could want?”
“No!” Maxim curls his hands into fists, and his gaze is so hopeless, that I know he’s not lying. “I don’t know what he could fucking want. I would give it to him if—” Suddenly he breaks off and sways. “That son of a bitch…”
I scan his face, desperate to follow his train of thought. Our gazes meet, and something in the set of his jaw has me lurching to my feet. He meets me halfway, clasping my wrist, dragging me against him.
My throat aches as I rush to speak, “He wants you to—”
“I know.” He nods, his eyes glinting with fury. “Lucius!”
“Yes, sir?” Lucius appears by his side in an instant.
Still holding my gaze, Maxim says, “Empty all of my accounts into the club accounts. All of them. Every last one. I don’t care what favors you have to call in. Get it done now.”
“Right away, sir.” Lucius races off while Milton advances from his corner, an eyebrow raised.
“You think that is what he wants?”
“What else?” Maxim snarls. “He wants everything I have. But as for the money…” He flicks his gaze to mine, his voice resonating with authority. “He can fucking take it.”
* * *
It’spast midnight when Tomas enters the room, his expression tense. With an apologetic nod in my direction, he crosses to Maxim and murmurs something near his ear.
Suddenly, Maxim lurches to his feet and races for the front door. I catch up to him, just in time to witness a ruby red car appearing in the driveway. Flashy and bold, it’s something Maxim or his men wouldn’t usually drive.
Frowning, I place my hand on his shoulder, straining my eyes to see through the tinted windshield. “Who…”
I barely finish forming the thought before the driver’s side door opens, and a lanky figure climbs out, his hands raised.
“I wouldn’t do anything rash,” he warns with a smile as Maxim tenses, poised to lunge for him. “I may not be armed, but I am not alone—”
“Where’s Ainsley?” I croak. “Where is she?”
“Ah, yes…” Dima flicks his gaze toward Maxim again, lingering over his face. “That would depend on a few small variables...”
“What?” Maxim demands. “Just name your fucking price.”
“Fine.” Dima sighs and inspects his spindly fingers. He almost looks bored, irritated to have his fun cut short. “I want you to beg. On your knees, of course. Beg for this child’s life. Though, I will warn you that what has already been done to her has alas…already been done.”
My heart sinks. Tears sting at my eyes, but I blink them back, swallowing down any cries. A resolve unlike anything I’ve ever felt strengthens my limbs, keeping me standing. No matter what happens, I refuse to give him the satisfaction of watching me suffer.
“Dima,” Milton says, appearing at Maxim’s shoulder. “What the hell are you doing—”
“Enough.” Maxim lurches forward, his fists clenched. Then he sinks down to his knees, his hands at his sides, his body rippling with tension. “Is this what you want?” he demands. “Well, you have it. Give her back.”
“Hmm.” Dima frowns, and for the first time, a hint of alarm crosses his smug expression. Confusion. He eyes Maxim in utter silence, tapping his chin with the tip of his finger. Then he reaches into the pocket of his black sweatshirt and withdraws a knife.
A gasp rips from me as I step forward, but Maxim raises his hand, still crouched. “Don’t.”
Dima intently eyes the edge of his blade. He takes his time, inspecting every inch of its gleaming surface. “I said beg,” he remarks coldly. “Not pretend as though you’re ordering dinner.Begfor her life—”
“I’m begging.” Maxim’s voice resonates like thunder, guttural, and deep. “Give her back.”
