Page 82 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“Are youreally,though?” Dima throws his knife into the air and catches it deftly by the handle. “I don’t know if I believe you—”
“You want to kill me, is that it?” Maxim demands with a harsh, callous laugh. “Do it. If tormenting a child is how you bring me to my knees. So be it. But don’t beat around the fucking bush. Do it!”
“Fine.” Dima shifts in a graceful movement of muscle and slashes at Maxim’s throat with the tip of his blade.
“No!” I tear down the path, uncaring. All I see is Maxim, his body still upright. It isn’t until I’m nearly even with him that I realize the amount of blood trickling down his collar doesn’t match what would stream from a lethal wound. My eyes trace the base of his throat, noting only a small, delicate scratch.
Dima eyes the streak of scarlet painting his blade. Then he sighs and pivots on his heel to open the back door of the car.
A small figure bounds out, her light hair flying out behind her. “Frankie!”
The sight of her distracts me even from Maxim’s injury. “Ainsley!”
I run forward and grab her mid-step, wrenching her into my arms. I bury my face into her hair, holding her so tight she squirms in discomfort.
“What’s wrong? Why are you crying? I had so much fun!” she exclaims, her voice high-pitched with excitement. “I love Uncle Dima! We saw real ponies, and then we ate candy, and we played screaming games, and—”
“Hush, baby.” I tug at her arms, scanning her tiny limbs for any injuries. Any hint of blood. Her clothes are intact, devoid of so much as a fucking stain. The only change I notice makes me grit my teeth—her usual pink socks have been replaced by a scarlet, woolen pair.
Apart from them, I can’t escape one glaring fact.
“You didn’t hurt her.” Confusion thickens my voice as I meet Dima’s gaze.
“Her teeth, perhaps,” he admits, with a wink. “I did not regulate her sugar intake—”
“You son of a bitch.” Maxim is still laughing, his head turned skyward. A smile shapes his mouth, but there’s nothing joyful about it. “You son of a fucking bitch...”
“Hurt me?” Ainsley questions, frowning. “I want to hang out with him again! Can I? Next time, can Eric come so we can—”
“Get her inside,” Maxim warns, rising to his feet, his fingers balling into fists.
“Come with me, Ms. Ainsley.” Lucius steps forward to ease her from my arms. “I believe it’s time for bed.”
“Ah,” she whines, her voice fading as Lucius carries her inside. “I wanted to say goodbye to Uncle Dima—”
The moment she’s gone, Maxim barrels down the front path, and there’s no stopping him. He’s toe to toe with Dima within a heartbeat. His fist slams into the other man’s cheek, sending him sprawling against the hood of the car.
“Enough,” Milton warns, stepping forward. “You’ve made your point.Bothof you.”
Laughing, Dima cradles his jaw and staggers to find his balance. Blood adds a ghoulish flourish to his haggard appearance. In tiny rivulets, it dribbles down his chin unchecked. “You can have your money back, little Maxi. Every dime. All of it, I promise…”
“Why?” I demand. “Why did you do this?”
He frowns. “Perhaps old Dima grew bored of waiting for Maxi to be receptive? If I wanted answers from him, I would have to take them. And I did.” He meets my gaze, and whether intentionally or not, he doesn’t try to disguise the raw confusion contrasting with his gleeful mask. Beneath the façade, turmoil rages underneath, making me recoil. Maxim has his demons, but nothing like this...
“If he and Milton can form their little families and play their little games… If they believe they can change, then why can’t I? Perhaps it’s time I take my own family. Play my own game?” He eyes his trembling fingers and forms a fist as if capturing something within it. “I believe it is what I am owed… And in all honesty, if Maxim can attract a woman and children to him, any man can.”
“That’s it?”
“Francesca!” Maxim’s hand swipes at my shoulder, but even he can’t stop me from pushing past him, approaching Dima head-on.
Towering over me, the man meets my gaze, unfazed—even when I raise my arm. I lash out, tracking the amusement flickering through his dark eyes as my palm lands across his cheek.
“I deserved that, I suppose,” he murmurs, brushing his fingers along his reddening flesh—but his smile is too feral to be contrite. I doubt he even feels the pain at all.You got what you wanted, didn’t you?His smug grin tells me.You got your answer.
And I got mine.
“Anyway, this was fun! I agree with dear Ainsley, we must do this again.” Beaming, he turns on his heel and enters his car. As Maxim glowers, he issues a lazy wave and kisses the tips of his fingers.
“Adieu!And no hard feelings, Maxi? I hear from a little birdie that you’ve sent Anatoli running back to Russia—” He laughs, the sound booming. “He won’t stay there for long… But for now, all is well, yes? You and Milton are the best of friends again, and poor Dima will take his leave. Though…” He chuckles before closing the door after him. As the window lowers, he adds. “I will be expecting my invitation to the weddings.”
He drives off as Maxim glowers, his body rigid. A ferocity radiates from him like fire—fiercer than any rage I’ve ever sensed in him before. But I’ve come to know him enough to suspect that it doesn’t stem from hurt pride or shame. No, this fury extends deeper than that. Into his core.
And it’s expressed solely in the way he reaches back for me, yanking me against him. His touch conveys possession as he finds my hip, cupping it with his palm. Whatever he did just now—his capitulation to Vadim—was worth more than a thousand rings.
More than if he had slayed a million Anatolis.
More than any promise he could ever make through words alone.
