Page 43 of The Crimson Lily
“Maksim, I never blamed you for anything you did to me, or for anything that happened.” I repeat what I said in my text.
No reaction.
“I’m not afraid of you,” I swear.
“I don’t know why you still run after me,” he says, his voice revealing nothing.
There’s no shred of affection in his tone. It hurts. Something has changed. He’s no longer the man who strokes me to sleep. It hurts so bad.
“Why are you doing this?” I plead, my lips trembling. “Why are you shutting me out like that?”
He doesn’t reply.
“We can find a way to work through this,” I assure, feeling stupid for basically implying we’re even a “we.”
“I’m perfectly fine with who I am.”
I sigh and repress my tears. “Obviously not!”
“I had two rules, Liliana,” he dictates. “I sleep alone, and I don’t get attached.”
I burst into tears. I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want to hear Maksim’s stupid rules. I can’t take this anymore. I can’t take the realization that he means so much more to me than I to him.
“I broke my own rules,” he says, interrupting the long pause.
I sniffle, dry my tears so no one else in this street can see me cry.
“Why live a life like this?” I question, my voice in shreds. “Why stick to a stupid code that forbids you to be happy?”
“I never saw the necessity.”
My heart clenches itself. Here I am, in the middle of Paris, France, in white sneakers and a pink T-shirt, crying on the phone like a lost little girl. Geez, I have to stop crying. I have to stop shedding tears for this man who will never return what I feel for him.
“Well,” I begin, repressing all emotions possible and sticking to practicalities. “If that’s how you feel, then let’s go back to themission and keep this strictly to business. We get that freaking dagger, then we’re done.”
There’s silence, then a short sigh.
“Sure,” he blurts. Something in his voice sounds like he doesn’t want to yield.
I raise my eyes to the next street sign. Quai d’Orsay.
Oh, shit!
I check to my left and see, in the distance, a big panel with the name of the one storage house. I don’t hesitate.
“By the way,” I say, too loudly, as if I’m mocking him, “I’m at Quai d’Orsay, so…screw you, Maksim!”
I immediately regret that last part. What kind of uncalled for manipulation trick is that? Do I want him to come rush to my rescue? Am I actually luring him by making him think I’ll walk into that place alone? How low have I sunk?
Sauntering toward the large panel, I think about how this whole situation reeks of ruse again. It just can’t be that easy. There can’t be a storage house in the middle of Paris that’s harboring a dagger worth millions of dollars. It just doesn’t fit William’s profile, whatever that is. He kept this dagger all for himself, all this time, only to leave it in a freaking parking lot? No! This doesn’t feel right at all. I spin on my heels and run back to Maksim’s apartment.
I throw myself onto my bed in the Renaissance house and breathe out all the air I own. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be involved in this mess anymore. I close my eyes, squeezing the emerald pillow against my face, screaming into it so the rest of the world won’t hear me.
I want to go home.
My mind drifts off. I don’t know if I’m in Maksim’s house, in the Opera hotel, or in the Westin Vendôme. It’s all dark until I see Maksim stand before me. He looks like shit, crushed, his eyes dark and his face wet with tears. I try to talk to him, but mywords echo in his silence and never reach him. I try to convince him, give him a thousand reasons to come back, to come back to me. He just walks away. I close my eyes, and the loop starts all over again. I can’t do this anymore. I collapse to my knees and cry as if I’ve never cried.
As I drift off further away from anything real, I feel someone behind me, wrapping their arms around me. I feel their breath on my skin, their lips tenderly kissing my neck. I recognize this. It’s him. I am a hundred percent sure.
