Page 24 of The Crimson Lily

A delicate orange light lands over my eyes, the shimmer of an early morning sunrise.

I open them, feeling the strength of a warm embrace around me.

I slept in Maksim’s arms, and he still holds me, but our positions have changed.

I lie sideways in the cage of his arms, him spooning me.

I get a little cautious when I realize one of his hands is around my neck.

He doesn’t squeeze hard; he’s just…?holding it as if he owns it.

I have to admit, I like the feeling it gives me. It’s like I’m his to keep, to possess.

I lay my hand on his wrist and begin to caress his arm. I don’t want to wake him, but I also really need to go to the bathroom, so I try to root myself out of his grasp.

I shouldn’t have done that.

Maksim wakes up in shock. He releases me and instantly rises to his feet, scowling at me as if I just did the worst thing possible. I don’t know why he looks so angry. Instinctively, I cower deeper into the bed and cover myself with the thin linen sheet.

“What did I tell you, Liliana?” he asks in an accusatory tone that instantly makes me feel guilty.

“I…?You…” I stutter. “You sleep alone.”

“I sleep alone!” he shouts as a stern reminder.

Tears rise up, and my cheeks feel warm. I want to hide, to bury myself under the bed. I feel ashamed. I want to tell him I didn’t mean to upset him.

“I’m sorry,” I cry. “You fell asleep, and I just…?I just wanted to be close to you.”

He scoffs. “Get up,” he orders. I see the look in his eyes—grim, with a severe spark of anger. He’s really mad at me. Unforgivingly mad.

I have to move. I don’t know what he’ll do to me if I remain frozen, petrified in his bed. I roll over and stagger up, meeting his eyes once I stand. I have tears in mine.

“I’d appreciate it if you respected my boundaries,” he declares, stern and emotionless.

His tone triggers something in me. I wanted to cry. Now, I’m getting angry too. I don’t understand him. I was attacked yesterday. I don’t want to be left alone in a house I don’t know! Why can’t he simply understand that? He was holding me in his arms. This man’s the king of sending mixed messages!

“I almost died!” I yell, surprised by the energy in my voice. “I just feel safe around you.”

He gives me one of his loudest sighs. “Last night, you weren’t safe.”

I shake my head in disbelief. “How?” I question. “You were there! How could I not be safe?”

“Well, that’s exactly the problem, Liliana,” he grunts, then paces toward me and heads for the door.

I’m not going to let him pass through; I step in his way, blocking him with a challenging glare. I want him to explain it to me.

“What’s the worst that can happen, Maksim?”

He shakes his head slightly, refusing to answer me. He’s about to step to the side when I block his path again.

“Tell me!” I command.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?”

My body stiffens. I know exactly what Maksim means.

There’s a mirror on the wall beside me by the door.

I spotted it earlier when I noticed my reflection in the corner of my eye.

I don’t dare turn. I’m afraid of what I’ll see, of the evidence left on my body of what was done to me, but I muster the courage to turn and face myself.

I have to sway my hair back to see how the purple imprint extends from my throat to the back of my neck.

I lower my night T-shirt to see the old marks trailing down my chest. Some look like tiny fingerprints, but the purple shade below my eye looks worse.

Despite this display, I don’t think it looks that bad.

I had a gun pointed at my head, and that leaves more traces than these bruises. I feel numb, and that’s it.

I turn back to Maksim and point at my face, at the black eye, then at the strangulation mark down my neck. Our eyes make four, and I swear time freezes in that instant.

“You didn’t do that,” I simply say.

“I did the rest,” he retorts with a growl.

He stares at me, the blue of his eyes almost piercing through me.

The longer he stares, the more captured I feel.

No exit, no way out. My anger fails me and gives way to this sharp feeling of shame.

I look down, unable to hold his gaze anymore.

My lips tremble, and I have to draw little breaths to avoid succumbing to my own tears again. I have no other choice but to concede.

“I’ll respect your stupid boundaries,” I spit with a pout, like a little child making a promise to a disapproving parent.

I thought he’d go for the ajar door behind me and leave, but instead, he gives me another growl and pushes me against it. He comes at a standstill in front of me, towering above me, his arms trapping me, his lips wet, and his eyes silver.

“Thank you,” he whispers before kissing me.

I wrap my arms around his neck, returning his kiss.

The cadence of his lips intensifies the more my hands explore his bare torso.

His hands slip underneath my shirt back to his favorite place, my breasts that fit perfectly in his big hands.

He squeezes very hard. It doesn’t hurt, but now I know how the fingerprints got there.

He dives into my neck and takes a few bites before flipping me around.

I end up with my face pinned against the door.

“Stand on your toes,” he orders, panting.

I am already on my toes. He drops his spy trousers, which he wore all night, and seizes my hips.

I feel something hard pressed against me.

He’s pulling me backward, against the door, then backward again, as if he’s searching for the best way to take me.

The door clicks in the mortise each time, like a stranger is trying to force it open.

“I think I’m too short,” I say with a groan.

He turns me around again, lifts me up and holds me there, pinned against the door.

“You’re really tiny,” he comments with a smirk.

Man, I love it when he speaks to me that way. I love everything he’s doing to me.

He holds one hand under me, and he enters me slowly. I grip myself to him and sink my nails to his skin, feeling him at my deepest. I tense the muscles of my jaw in a vain attempt to silence the loud moans that are escaping my lips.

“Let it out, zaya ,” he whispers to my ear. “Let me hear you.”

He grips my hips and leans me against the door, then takes me there, with rapid movements. I’m going to lose balance; I’m going to fall! I have to clutch him with my legs, fast, and I let it all out at his command. I even scream his name.

Ding, dong.

What the hell?

The doorbell rings and rings again. Maksim keeps going at it for extra time until he realizes, in turn, that someone is now knocking on the door.

“Liliana?” I hear a faint voice call from downstairs.

He pulls out, growls intensively, and lets me back on the ground. The voice rings and calls my name again. I recognize it—it’s Béatrice!

“Did you give her this address?” Maksim asks in a distrustful tone.

I just shake my head. I told her I was okay, nothing else.

He rushes to put on his clothes, at least for the lower half of him, and leaves the room. He heads downstairs, and I hear him open the door. I can hear Béatrice’s voice clearer now.

“You are hard to get rid of,” Maksim says.

“Nice apartment. Where is she?” Béatrice asks, ignoring his remark.

“Upstairs.”

I hear loud footsteps in the stairs and meet eyes with Béatrice, who approaches me before casting a worried glance at me.

“My God, your face!” she exclaims.

She has a bruise on her cheek too, but it looks much better than my black eye. She then looks to a shirtless Maksim behind her and at me with my hair all over the place.

“Seriously?” she jerks in a very cynical tone. Then she rolls her eyes at me when she sees me blush.

Maksim turns around and marches toward the bathroom, but not before exchanging glares with Béatrice. “I hope for your sake that you weren’t followed.”

Béatrice shrugs and turns to face me again. She wants to speak, but I start first.

“How did you find me here? And what happened yesterday after…?the fight?” I ask her, curious to hear about her encounter with the Parisian Bratva.

“Your phone, remember?” she probes. “You’re sharing your location with me.”

Duh. Of course! Oops.

She takes a deep breath. “They made us swear we wouldn’t talk. They went through our phones, our social media accounts, everything. We’ll probably be tracked twenty-four-seven from now on.”

“Were you scared?” I ask, hesitant, fiddling with my own sleeves. “I’m really sorry, Béatrice.”

She motions for me to stop talking and puts a gentle hand on my arm. “Stop it. I joined you at my own will. And so what if the Bratva watches my every move! I don’t have to see them again.”

“How’s Alejandro?” I check.

She chuckles—the kind of nervous chuckle that comes out when someone’s scared or worried. “He’s shaken…?but he’s answering my calls at least!”

I smile. I’m glad Alejandro at least survived the experience. I wait for Maksim to be done in the bathroom to get myself clean.

After I shower, I dry my hair and jump into jeans and a comfy pink crop top with bunny tie.

I check my eye again, which doesn’t look as bad as it could.

The mark around my neck looks worse, but I can’t find my scarf, so I let my hair loose to cover as much of it as possible.

I find Béatrice downstairs, in the living room, sitting on the Renaissance sofa.

Maksim is busy in what appears to be a kitchen at the edge of the hallway.

“I have a theory about yesterday,” Béatrice announces as I sit on the chair in front of her. “I think they didn’t expect to find you in the room.”

“How so?” I wonder.

“They asked for your Bratva dog ,” she explains. “Plus, the note in the safe said Liliana, not anything about the Bratva.”

That’s a very good point. Béatrice is right. I start to think that William expected me to go for the dagger and sent his wolves to neutralize Maksim.