Page 42 of The Crimson Lily

Giovanni takes me back to the hotel when the clock almost strikes 11 p.m. I’m quite lightheaded from the bottle of wine, then the three glasses of limoncello we savored with Italian gelato.

Like a gentleman, he opens the taxi door for me and takes my hand to help me out of the car.

I thank him gracefully, like a diva who’s about to walk the red carpet to get to her show—at least, my fluffy faux fur coat makes me look like one.

I’d expect him to rush back into the taxi and leave, but instead, he accompanies me to the Grand Hotel Flora’s entrance.

We stand still for a minute, enough that it becomes a little uncomfortable for me. Giovanni looks at me with his mossy-green eyes. I know that look. I don’t want to see it, but I know what he’s about to do, right in that instant, as he takes a step toward me.

“Giovanni,” I begin, placing my hand on his chest so he won’t take a step closer. “Don’t?—”

Too late. My whole world crumbles. He’s taken my lips and keeps me caged in his arms. I push him slightly, yet he insists on staying there and tasting the kiss I won’t return.

When he eventually lets me go, his gaze bounces between me and the hotel’s entrance, as if to ask for permission to follow me inside.

“No,” I blurt.

He purses his lips to feel the aftertaste of mine.

“Goodnight, bella ,” he says with a complying smile that isn’t really a smile.

I watch him walk back to the taxi, get inside, and drive away. I stay there for a few hesitant seconds, leaving room for an incredible wave of guilt to splash on my shoulders. Only one sentence repeatedly flashes in my mind.

I kissed another man.

How could you, Liliana? I rush into the hotel, hiding my face, and race up the stairs to get to my room as fast as possible.

When I close the door behind me, I collapse against it.

I wrap my arms around my knees and empty my face of shameful tears.

Maksim…?Where are you, Maksim? How could you do this to him, Liliana?

I hate myself. I hate every bone in my body.

I don’t want to stop crying. I don’t want to move.

I let every shred of guilt and remorse settle in my veins.

How could you?

It’s a good twenty minutes later that I gather enough will to stand up. I discard my coat on the floor, make no effort whatsoever for my boots, and amble like a zombie to the suite’s living room. It’s dark, too dark to see, so I tap the wall in search of a switch.

Click.

That wasn’t me. That couldn’t be me. Because the switch is right at the opposite end of the room, and Maksim stands there, tall in his dark-gray suit.

It’s like I’m hallucinating, my eyes swollen and itching from the tears.

He’s more handsome than I remember. He turns his face to place the glass of whiskey he’s holding onto the table beside him. His strong jawline scowls at me.

I crumble on my knees, crying, folding myself in a worshipping pose. I’m screaming inanities while spewing a river of tears.

“I’m so sorry, Maksim!”

“I don’t know what happened.”

“Please forgive me!”

He just marches to me, his footsteps heavy. I swear he’s angry. I don’t know what he’ll do, but I just want him to stay here and not go away. Not leave me.

He crouches beside me and lays a hand on my shoulder. He doesn’t say a thing. I don’t know how, but I’m sure he’s aware of what just happened. I don’t have to explain my demeanor, just beg him to forgive me between tears.

Maksim stands back up and waits for me to follow.

“Join me in the bedroom, will you?” he orders more than requests.

Man, hearing his voice after days is exactly what I need, but it makes the ache ten times worse.

I do my best to rise to my feet. He stretches a hand out to help me, which I seize with all my strength.

I don’t want to let it go. He leads me to the bed and turns to tower above me.

He’s taller than Giovanni, who’s already a head taller than me.

His eyes are pure silver; I’ve never seen them that way.

His hands come to rest around my face, and he plunges his gaze into mine, sending painful shivers down the nape of my neck.

“I’m sorry,” I stutter yet again.

“Don’t be,” he growls. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

No, Maksim! I did. I kissed another man. I want to argue my case, but he speaks again.

“You can’t change how wonderful you are and how much people want you,” he says before leaning in and taking my lips.

It’s not a tender kiss. Maksim bites into my lower lip, hard, as if he wants to consume it whole. I take a step back to free myself.

“I let him kiss me,” I cry before breaking back into tears.

He shakes his head to dismiss me. He comes closer. It looks like he wants nothing more than to devour me. That silver light in his eyes pierces right through my heart.

“It’s not your fault, Liliana,” he declares.

“Why aren’t you angry at me?” I plead. I feel so guilty; I want him to be angry. I want him to unleash his wrath upon me.

He holds his hand by the window for a minute as if to point at Giovanni. “That man is no threat to me,” he discloses.

He’s right. Giovanni would never come even remotely close to Maksim. A match between the two would be nowhere near a fair game.

I wipe my tears with my sweater’s sleeves, hoping they’ll go away for good. Maksim simply observes me, his predatory stare fixated on me. He then takes a few steps toward me, like a tiger about to jump its prey.

“Do you believe you should be punished?” he queries.

I swallow my tongue, unable to speak. I look up at him, searching for his eyes, but I can only see this voracious mask craving me, so I nod silently.

“Go by the bed,” he instructs. “Take off your clothes, get on your knees, and look down.”

I’m not going to question his orders. I do as he says. I’m naked at the foot of the bed and kneeling. I stare at the floor for a minute, hearing the ticks of his belt buckle behind me.

“Put your hands on the bed and squeeze,” he commands, his voice so low it scares me.

I join my hands on the bed, tucking the sheet inside their crook. My arms are trembling from what’s about to happen because now I know Maksim’s holding his belt in his hand, and I know what he’s about to do.

“You’re going to count to ten,” he blurts.

I don’t have time to understand what he means before the rugged leather of the belt clashes against the skin of my back. The electrifying burst spreads inside me like a shock wave. It hurts. I don’t know how hard it hit me, but it fucking hurts.

“One,” I murmur between clenching my jaw and the bedsheet.

He strikes my skin again.

“Louder,” he roars.

“Two,” I scream, welcoming the pain.

The next slash hits my lower back, which forces me to arch and look up to the ceiling.

“Three,” I gasp.

One more time.

“Four,” I wail—or is it now a moan?

“Keep looking down,” he dictates, and I comply.

Another clash. Five to go. A warm sensation covers the places he’s struck. It’s no longer pain I feel. Something else is getting to my head.

“F…?five,” I murmur, and he counters with another hit.

I don’t make a sound for the next five minutes. Warm tears are rolling again. My head is tucked between my arms. I am paralyzed, defeated by cries and shallow pants. I am clutching the sheet so hard my nails could tear through it.

“Six,” I belatedly say.

He strikes me again, this time even harder. I become woozy. My vision blurs, and I can barely speak anymore. Oh man, how I love that feeling. How twisted am I? Never mind, I figured that out long ago.

“Seven,” I whisper.

The next hit comes. And the next. The last one falls harder than all the previous ones combined. It snaps me awake. I scream so loudly that all of Rome can hear me. It’s like Maksim doesn’t care for privacy anymore.

“Ten,” I rasp, my broken voice ending in whimpers.

I am almost lifeless, sitting on the wooden floor, my legs folded beside me, my head rested in my arms on the bed.

I am sobbing. But Maksim isn’t going to let me off that easy.

A few seconds later, he kneels behind me.

I’m anxious about what he’ll do next, but instead of more anger manifesting, his hands softly cup my hips, and he pulls me toward him.

He tests the waters first with two fingers, then raises me up and enters me.

I don’t have the energy to scream, but I don’t need to because he’s gentle and slow.

It feels so darn relieving. After the pain, the excruciating fire that now blazes my skin raw, I am conquered by a torrent of absolute, delicate pleasure.

Maksim holds me there, steadily, kissing my shoulders and neck.

Right at that moment, he comes inside me, and I join in with silent moans.

My knees are numb. I have trouble walking.

Maksim has to carry me to the bathroom to take care of my wounds.

He’s prepared a warm bath for me and lets me sink into the water to soothe my skin.

He rubs my back gently with a wet, lukewarm towel.

I feel a thousand tiny needles lodge into my back.

It itches, but I can take it. It’s not that bad. It could have been much worse.

Maksim leaves me to relax for a moment, my body enjoying the warmth of the water.

He sits on the edge of the tub so I can rest my head against the side of his thigh.

A few minutes pass, and he goes to fetch a tube of Bepanthen cream.

He makes me sit up straight and spreads the cream on my skin carefully, checking how I react each time he touches me.

I’m reaching my limit of how much I can take for today.

My head feels heavy, and Maksim does his best not to let me faint.

He wants to make sure I won’t fall asleep from the haze.

“You went really hard on me this time,” I whisper with a sly smile, peeking over my shoulder to see him between slow blinks.

It’s like I’m high, entranced by Maksim’s intoxicating touch.

He responds with a proud chuckle. “I don’t go soft when it comes to punishment.”

I hum a laugh, which follows my head as it rolls to the side.

I feel the world slowly slip away. The way he treats me right now makes me feel like I’m his everything.

He knows exactly what I need and how to take care of me after such an intense session of pleasure and pain.

I find myself a little crazy for finding his response endearing.

Mr. Business Class likes to punish with force. How cute…

“I know,” I giggle, feeling silly, and I don’t know if I say or think: That’s why I love you.

I hope with all my heart that I dreamt saying that last part.

There’s no way I can tell Maksim what I feel for him.

I can’t tell him how much I love him. I’m too afraid he won’t say it back.

At this point, I’m not even sure I’m in the tub anymore.

Probably not—it’s too soft to be the tub.

Maybe I’m wrapped in a towel. Plus, I’m sure I’m lying on my side, and it’s Maksim’s scent that is just within my reach.