Page 9 of Surrender: XXX Maxim
“I chose you over him. Over them.” I can feel the vibrations rumbling through his back with every grated word. It’s more than a boast. More than a promise. It’s a warning. “Don’t forget that. Don’t ever forget that. I choseyou. I will fight for you.”
Saying it out loud must comfort him in ways that even bashing Sevastyn’s skull in didn’t—because within minutes…I know he’s asleep.
* * *
I wakeup again to golden daylight flooding in through the window, but I don’t have the strength to even move, let alone get up. I’m so fucking tired. My muscles ache, my mind exhausted. For a second, I think I’m still dreaming, imagining the snippets of conversation drifting on the edges of my consciousness.
“…A message came this morning,” a man confesses, his tone cordial.Lucius?“You won’t like it. Should I convey it regardless?”
Someone grunts in response. That guttural baritone needs no introduction.
“Anatoli has demanded your presence,” Lucius continues. “Far be it for me to make a suggestion, sir. But if you were planning to declare your independence from him, now might be your chance. My contacts have already picked up on chatter within the network, speculating on Sevastyn’s sudden absence over the past twenty-four hours…”
If Maxim replies at all, I don’t hear him, imagined or otherwise. It could be because my brain shuts down, cringing from any mention of that name.Anatoli.If I’m still dreaming, the image creeping into my mind would surely reinforce this moment being a nightmare—a man with cold, lifeless eyes so similar to Maxim’s it’s chilling. Like he’s doomed to one day reach the same level of callous, inhumanity.
I squeeze my eyes shut, blocking out the memories. Rolling over, I press my face against a mound of silken sheets. Just as I start to drift off again, a familiar command cuts through the exhaustion like a knife. “Come.”
Still half-asleep, I scramble from the sheets and find a black robe draped over the end of the bed. It’s silk, tailored to my size. Made for me.
Cautiously, I enter the hall wearing it and find Maxim in an enormous dining room adjacent to an open floor plan kitchen. A row of windows displays the city of Fair Haven from its very heart. From the bay to the glittering center, all the way to a glimpse of the slums on the very outskirts.
Attacking his uncle may have been the opening salvo of a so-called war, but Maxim certainly isn’t in hiding. This bold, new residence makes one fact painfully clear—he’s ready for a fight.
And this view serves as the perfect backdrop for the breakfast of a man hell-bent on domination. What might fuel such an enigmatic figure? Two plates before him contain the answer—poached eggs over a rare steak sliced to perfection.
“Sit.” He nods to the chair beside him. When I comply, he picks up a fork from the table, twisting it between his fingers. He’s been up for a while, already fully dressed in a black suit, his hair damp and freshly washed. The sight of him makes me keenly aware of the grime still clinging to me. Namely, the rust-colored gunk caked beneath my fingernails.
I try scratching it away, but the stain remains no matter how fiercely I dig. It hurts, but I can’t stop scraping. Probing. Bleeding.
“I have business to attend to,” Maxim informs me, and I look up, forcing my hands flat against the table. “Meetings. I’ll be gone until tonight.”
I nod absently, still processing the past twenty-four hours. My brain struggles to digest the tonal whiplash. Murder one moment. Breakfast the next.
And brutal sex replaced by casual conversation.
“Lucius will accompany you today,” he continues. “But you will be on your own for most of it.”
That sounds like more than an afternoon spent here waiting for him. I brush my tongue along my lower lip before replying. “For what?”
Rather than answer me immediately, he drags my plate toward him and cuts the meat into even smaller pieces. Then he nudges it in my direction with a grunted command, “Eat.”
As I shovel a piece of steak into my mouth, I catch him watching every fucking move I make, missing nothing.
“Swallow,” he prompts, once I’ve taken a few mechanical chews. Satisfied, he adds while my mouth is full, “I’m sending you for a dress.”
A dress. Maybe his penthouse and our relationship isn’t the only thing that has changed after last night? He thinks I need a new wardrobe as well. I’m partially through chewing another slice of meat when I finally process the deliberate way he pronounced that word, however. Dress.
A dress.
Thedress.
I swallow too quickly and wind up choking. Eyes streaming, I gulp at a glass of water shoved in my direction. Once I stop sputtering, the only thing I can think to say is, “But I haven’t even told my family.”
About the true nature of my relationship with him.
About why our lives have changed so drastically.
About…
