Page 30 of The Crimson Lily
Doubt spreads through my veins. A thought, an idea, a glimpse of my near future flashes before my eyes.
Where am I going? Why aren’t I allowed to see?
What if they’re going to kill me? I’m getting scared.
My breathing increases. My eyes widen and dry up.
My palms feel too warm. I pull my sleeves over my hands to hide any fear, but it becomes too much for me to bear.
My eyes search for Maksim’s next to me.
“Are you going to kill me?” I ask, and my voice breaks.
He doesn’t answer. I panic. The car starts up. I try to open the door frantically, desperately looking for a way to escape. I’m going to die. I’m no longer necessary. I let the mission fail. I’m going to die.
“Calm down, Liliana,” he orders.
I try to look through the black windows—nothing. I turn to him instantly. “You’re going to kill me!” I exclaim, out of breath.
He catches a grip of my wrist, then of my arm, then of my shoulders. He pulls me toward him, almost covering me underneath him, his thumbs pushing into my skin. I feel smothered.
“I’m not going to kill you!” he shouts and loosens his grip.
“Well…” I murmur. “Someone is.”
He leans in and takes my lips. It’s a long and soft kiss, like he missed my lips and wants to take his time tasting them again. My body relaxes, and he eventually lets go of his grip.
“Where am I going, Maksim?” I ask and bite my lip.
He kisses me again. I recover enough energy to latch on to his neck and return his kiss with all the passion I can offer him.
His hands make their way down my body and, as he still holds my lips prisoner, he pulls my jeans down and slips a hand between my thighs.
Maksim wants to calm me down, and I guess pleasuring me is one way to do it.
“Come for me,” he commands. “I missed how you sound.”
That’s my cue. Just by the sound of his voice, his words ordering me to surrender an orgasm to him, I feel the blaze invade my bones.
He crawls down on me and finishes me with his tongue.
His hand no longer covers my mouth, and I let out a strident moan.
My scream is so loud, I’m worried Vladimir II hears me.
He lets me recover and slithers back on top of me. He kisses me again, sending a wave of emotions through his tantalizing lips.
“Nobody is going to kill you, Liliana,” he concedes after freeing me and letting me readjust my jeans again. “You’re too important.”
I take him in my arms right after and hold him close. I don’t want to let him loose, but the car stops, and I am forced to.
“Don’t let me go again, please,” I urge, not controlling the things I’m saying anymore.
“I won’t,” he retorts.
Two men open the door and put a bag over my face.
It’s even prettier from up close. I stand there, at the foot of the Eiffel Tower on the Champ de Mars, admiring the thousand little sparkles of a Parisian evening. I cross my arms and look up, meeting eyes with the tower’s beam.
I guess congratulations are in order—I am part of the Bratva now.
Or, at least, I am an informant under their protection—such is the deal I just made after the long and intense briefing with an actual Vladimir Morozov, brigadier of the Parisian Bratva, in an abandoned warehouse somewhere I didn’t know.
I traded Bratva protection against the hunting of my boss and the Kinzhal Strastey.
They are convinced that I am their only way to William de Loit.
However, things have to wait for now. People higher up need to move things around or who knows what.
Vladimir didn’t seem to know about the Syndicate.
I saw it in his gray eyes, the look of wonder.
This puzzle definitely doesn’t elude only me.
Hence, here I am, stargazing, lost in this beautiful sight. He catches my attention with a caress of my lower back.
“Ice cream?” Maksim says with a smile, handing me a cone with the biggest chocolate scoop ever.
I hesitate and accept it. “Thank you!” I say, biting into it like I forgot how to eat ice cream. I haven’t, though—I’ve always eaten it like that. This is why I always end up with chocolate all over my face. This is also why I never order ice cream on dates, usually.
He offers me a napkin and a chuckle. I wipe my entire face…?and bite into the ice cream again.
“I guess I missed my flight,” I say wistfully, still wiping my face.
It’s sometime after 8 p.m. Many people are still amassed on the Champ de Mars, all appreciating the view, enjoying the Parisian life with a sneaky bottle of cheap wine or a crêpe or ice cream.
Maksim is beside me, silent, casting curious glances at me, possibly to observe the mess I’m making with that leaky chocolate.
“Sorry,” I apologize, licking my fingers. “I’m not good with ice cream.”
He chuckles. The curl of his smile ends in a tiny dimple that is simply irresistible. He’s so handsome in the light of Paris. I still can’t deny that. His blue eyes shimmer with the silver reflections of the Eiffel Tower’s sparkles, and when he looks at me, the earth stops spinning.
“I lo…” No! What am I about to say? I can’t say that! That fact almost escaped my lips. The truth of what I feel for him. But it can’t come out. Not now. Not ever. “When are you going back to New York?” I ask instead.
He simply smiles, then looks at me with a tender gaze. “Tomorrow.”
So, this is to be our last night. I don’t like that idea; it actually hurts in the middle of my chest. It breaks my heart. I don’t want to let it show, but I am Liliana Springfield, and I am very bad at hiding my emotions from him.
“Why so soon?” I ask.
“The mission failed,” he replies. “I need to report back and wait for further instructions.”
I don’t respond. I remain silent, pondering how much the idea of watching him go hurts me.
“I also have a ticket for you,” he finally discloses.
I rejoice a little at the idea of going back with him, but a big question still remains on my mind. “What happens when we’re back?”
I really don’t want him to mention anything about going our separate ways. I won’t bear it if he says something along the lines of letting it be and never seeing each other again.
“I take another job in the meantime,” he replies.
That…?isn’t really an answer to my question, is it? Well, it is, but not to my actual question. Maybe I just have to be clearer. Maybe I just have to ask what I want to ask. That’ll make things so much easier, won’t it?
I clear my throat, pack all my courage in one ball of words, and throw it at him. “What about us? Will I see you again?” I immediately stuff my mouth with the last of the ice cream so I won’t say anything else to make this situation any more awkward for me.
He looks at me as if I asked something stupid, bearing a little frown with parted lips and a twitch of the nose.
“Did I say something wrong?” I pose, absolutely terrified of the answer.
“Why don’t you know that by now?” he queries. He looks genuinely confused.
I don’t answer; I just stare at him incredulously. He takes a step toward me and grabs the small tissue out of my hands. He then wipes off a little trace of chocolate on the corner of my mouth and goes for my lips.
At the end of the most tender of kisses, he wraps his arms around me and delves deep into my eyes. “I’m not leaving you, Liliana, and I’m not letting you go,” he pledges.
He takes my lips again, gently, but the cadence of his kiss slowly increases, and so does his breath.
He bites into my lower lip, and his hands explore my back.
I feel his nails delicately scratch my skin.
I’m going to lose balance, intoxicated by his exquisite embrace.
Maksim lets out a low and controlled growl, his eyes more silver than they’ve ever been.
“We should go before…” I start my sentence and never finish it.
He catches my wrist and leads me away from the Champ de Mars, back to his home.
I take one last look over my shoulder, at the golden-lit Eiffel Tower that stopped shimmering because the light show has ended.
I capture this instant in my mind so I’ll never forget it.
I don’t know if I’ll be back here anytime soon.