Page 42 of The Crimson Lily
“No, Maksim! Don’t go!” I beg.
But he slams the door behind him.
I collapse to the floor, desperate, leaning against the cold marble of the stairs. Béatrice rushes to me, still confused, but focused on comforting me.
“What happened, Liliana?” she asks as I take loud, repetitive breaths through my mouth and nose at the same time.
“We were just…” I can’t speak.
“He was raping you!” she yells.
“No, no, no, he wasn’t!” I look at her, my eyes burning. “I don’t know how to explain this! It was like…an act.”
She shakes her head. Her eyes flare with distress. “It didn’t look like it. He was hurting you.”
“That’s what I like!” I shout, this time with anger boiling in my blood. Not directed at Béatrice, no, but at how fucked up all of this is. How fucked up my entire situation is. “I like it when he roughs me up! I like it when he makes it hurt,” I admit. I admit to all of it, to my darker kinks. My voice slowly dims and turns into a severe echo. Saying it out loud feels good. “I like it when he just…makes it hurt. That’s how I like it, okay? And you can’t change that.” I think of what to say next. “Now he left, and I think he’s really furious.”
Béatrice falls silent. She looks sorry. She takes me in her arms and slowly begins to stroke my hair. I keep on panting, feeling this hole in my heart because Maksim is gone now, and it feels like he’ll never come back.
Béatrice had heard thumps and screams as she climbed the stairs to Maksim’s apartment. She raced to the door and found it open. Her thoughts then were only to rescue me from this madman. She waited until I was dressed again to tell me why she came here.
“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” she concedes.
I look into the hallway mirror close to the kitchen to check on the mark around my neck. It looks much better than yesterday, at least. Béatrice, too, looks much better. She needs to head to work, so I decide to accompany her to the nearest metro station. I can’t stay locked up in this place—I need some air.
I walk with her to the Pont de l’Alma metro station without saying a word. She doesn’t really mind, as she’s deep in thought, like me. I have little idea what’s going on in her head, but the sole thing I can focus on, other than Maksim, is William de Loit, especially how this whole thing sounds fishy at best. It can’t be that easy. A storage house on Quai d’Orsay? No way. William letting someone like Alejandro overhear him? There’s no way it’s that easy.
Béatrice gives me a warm hug before taking the stairs down to the metro line. She tells me to be careful, warns me not to take it too far. She says I should head back to Maksim’s apartment and wait for her—she’ll come back to check on me tonight. I get a little annoyed by her persistence, but I know she means well. She wants the best for me. She’s my best friend, after all. I still love her for it, and I really can’t imagine what I’d do without her in my life.
The second I lose sight of her, I take the Bratva phone I still have in my purse and begin brainstorming a thousand ways to contact Maksim. I still have his number from the last text I received from him a few days ago. I’m not sure he’s still using it. Oh, what the hell…I start typing. Something. I just need to say something that’ll get his attention. Maksim is still a closed book to me; I really don’t know what to say to compel him to answer me. Hence, I call. I call and I call.
No answer.
I’m getting desperate, still ambling aimlessly along the Seine, on the sand-colored gravel, looking at boats, people, and pigeons. I seize my other phone in my hands and call him again.Maybe he won’t answer the Bratva-bugged phone, but he’ll respond to this one.
Nope.
I want to cast my stupid phone into the river and let the Bratva phone join it. This intense feeling of hopelessness makes me want to throw a fist at the nearest tree. I just want to get a hold of him, to give him a reason to answer me.
What do I know about Maksim?
I begin enumerating everything I know about this Belarusian man. How Maksim almost solely responds to direct questions. But also, how Maksim never answers stupid questions. How he never replies when something isn’t my business. How his eyes sharpen whenever he?—
Something clicks inside my mind. That silver glimmer in his eyes…Maksim’s behavior seems to erupt whenever I open myself to him. Whenever I express fear or hesitation. Whenever I don’t feel safe. He seems to…rush to me. He seems drawn to me whenever I’m afraid. Whenever I look down, Maksim is always there, towering above me, ready to embrace me.
That’s it. I need to show weakness. But I also need to prove I have my head on my shoulders.
I start typing a text on my own phone as I walk by the Seine.
Maksim, it’s Liliana. I need you. I don’t blame you for anything. You didn’t do anything I didn’t want. Please call me back. Please come back to me. I really don’t feel safe right now.
Gotcha. Five minutes later, my phone rings.
“I told you to stay away,” he mumbles through the line. His voice breaks in a whisper.
“Well,” I begin, swallowing the lump in my throat. “You should know by now that I’m a terrible listener.”
Silence.
