Chapter 12
When I exited the elevator on my office floor later that morning, Snow was still firmly inside my brain. Her words bothered me. I didn’t like the idea of her believing no one wanted to see her body.
Someone must have said or done something to cause her to think that about herself.
It didn’t sit well with me.
In the last hour alone, I’d had multiple visions of finding that person and making them hurt.
“I think this is a new level of broodiness for you, boss-man.”
I blinked, and my assistant stood in front of me.
“What?”
Clicking her tongue, she smoothed her hand over the back of her short hair. “I believe you meant to say—” she cleared her throat and deepened her voice. “Lovely day, Tamara. How are you doing this fine morning?”
Not bothering with a response, I sidestepped her and continued my trek to my office. Naturally, her footsteps weren’t far behind mine.
“You do realize you use more muscles to frown than you do to smile.”
“Any messages?” I asked without looking over my shoulder.
She sighed. “Straight to business…okay then. Mr. Maxwell Sr. has called three times in the last thirty minutes. He’d—”
“If he calls again, tell him I’m not here.”
“You’re not here, got it.” Tamara took a breath, and for all her poking, I appreciated she never said a word about the odd relationship I had with my family.
“Anything else?” I asked as we stopped in front of my office door.
“There’s a slight hiccup with your schedule. You are supposed to meet with Mr. Deacon at eleven, but Mrs. Shaw’s assistant phoned ten minutes ago to confirm your meeting with her at eleven fifteen.”
Shit. I’d forgotten to inform Tamara of the second meeting I’d arranged. In my defense, my mind had been a little preoccupied since I’d been on my way to the courthouse at the time said meeting had been scheduled.
“Would you like me to cancel one?”
“No,” I answered immediately. I’d never canceled a meeting before and wasn’t about to start now. “I’ll make it work.”
Curling my fingers around the handle, I prepared to enter my office when Tamara stopped me.
“The other Mr. Maxwell is waiting for you inside.”
Anger bubbled through my veins. “You just let him in?”
Tamara’s usual smile vanished. “I didn’t really have a choice. He made it very clear he was going in and no one was going to stop him.”
Fury-filled tentacles wrapped around my spine. I didn’t even want to think about what he might’ve said to her.
I hated that I was related to these people. Hated even more that I couldn’t seem to escape them.
“It’s fine, Tamara.”
It wasn’t, but it also wasn’t her fault. Knowing Shane, he’d probably said terrible things to my assistant that would leave most women crying in the bathroom.
I’d wanted to lay hands on him over his behavior more than once, but my father, the asshole he was, had somehow managed to secure the motherfucker’s position at Nouvelle Femme.
Shane Maxwell had an iron-clad contract that prevented me or anyone else from firing him.
It was bullshit.
As was his position at the company. All the bastard did was oversee the public events. Which sounded like a big deal, but it wasn’t. He just sat in an office he didn’t deserve and signed off on the hard work of the PR department.
“You want me to go in there and tell him you’re not coming into the office today?”
Tamara pulled me back to the present with the reminder I still needed to face the asshole.
I shook my head and sucked in a breath. “No.” Taking one last drag of air, I pushed through the door.
“The fuck are you doing?”
Shane was on my side of the desk, trying to open my drawers. Luckily, I’d always known my grandfather and cousin would go digging in things that didn’t belong to them. That was why I always kept those drawers locked and never left anything important on my desk.
“Oh, I was searching for something to wipe my nose.” Slowly taking the seat in front of my desk, he sniffled twice, then ran his forefinger under his nose. “Allergies.”
More like drugs. Maybe if we did a random test, that would give me a reason to throw his ass out of my building. “Why are you here?”
“Really, cousin, we’re family. Surely you can at least try to be a little friendlier.”
Narrowing my eyes, I ground my back molars. “What the fuck do you want?”
Shane smacked a hand over the left side of his chest and pretended to be hurt. I wanted to hurt him for real. Ram my fists into his face until the features that somehow resembled my own weren’t recognizable anymore.
“I want a great many things.” He ran his fingers through his short blond hair. “But right now, you need to increase the budget for the year-end function.”
“No.” I shrugged out of my jacket, and after hanging it behind my door, I strode to my chair. Parking my ass on the plush leather, I fired up my computer and shuffled through the papers on my desk.
Shane hadn’t moved an inch.
“I have meetings to prepare for. Why are you still here?”
Something flashed in his eyes. It was the same expression I imagined I had every time I envisioned bringing him pain. “You didn’t even ask why I need the budget increased. But I’ll tell you anyway. The company we contracted hired a new planner, and she’s so much better than the previous one but also more expensive, and if we want—”
“Find a new company then.”
He blinked a few times. “We…can’t. We have a contractual obligation to—”
“Listen,” I growled. “Not that your thick head would understand this, but there are budgets for a reason. Stick to yours, or I’ll find someone else to do it.”
Shane jumped to his feet with a harrumph. “You can’t fire me, you—”
“No, but I can move you around the company as I see fit.” Leaning back, I balanced my ankle on my knee. “Pretty sure there’s a spot in the mailroom with your name on it.”
The asshole’s mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air. I enjoyed it for about two seconds before he lifted his nose toward the ceiling in what I presumed he wanted to be a defiant manner.
To me, he just looked idiotic.
“I cannot wait for Grandfather to take you down,” he sneered.
I saw red.
Slamming my fists on the table, I jumped to my feet so fast, the pathetic piece of shit ducked as if I were about to hit him. Which I wanted to do desperately. And as satisfying as the feel of my fist connecting with his jaw would have been, it wasn’t worth the shitshow I’d have to face after.
“Get the fuck out of my office!” I snarled instead.
Shane’s hands came up in surrender, and he slowly walked backward toward the door. Almost like he was afraid to turn his back on me. Little did he know I wasn’t like him or our grandfather.
If I wanted to dig a knife in, I’d do it from the front so they knew it was me.
When he finally reached the door, I didn’t miss the slight wobble in his hand as he tried to turn the handle without taking his eyes off me.
“Grandfather will hear about this,” he muttered.
I didn’t answer him. I’d already wasted enough time on his sorry ass. Taking my seat once more, I pulled my computer closer and dove headfirst into the day’s tasks.
I didn’t get much done, as my thoughts constantly drifted back to Snow. First, that comment about her body, then the thing about her job and how it was my fault she didn’t have one anymore.
What the hell was she talking about?
Unlocking my drawers, I retrieved the file Tristan had sent over two weeks ago. I might have been desperate, but not enough to blindly marry a stranger without first looking into their background.
That’s where Tristan came in. Not only was he a brilliant attorney, but the man had a scary ability to dig into people’s pasts and find every single secret they wanted to stay hidden.
Less than a week after I’d met Snow, I’d held a folder containing all I needed to know about the woman.
Well, everything that mattered at the time.
Only now did I realize I wanted to learn more about the little things I’d missed. Opening the folder, I scanned the pages until I found what I was searching for.
According to Tristan’s research, Snow had studied event planning and had landed a job at Eventique right after graduation. I stopped reading. Why did that name sound so familiar? I couldn’t place it immediately, so I scribbled it on a piece of paper for later and went back to reading.
Apparently, Snow had an immaculate record until a “stapler incident” almost six weeks ago. A smile touched my lips as I thought about my pretty Snow furious enough to throw a stapler across the room.
As intriguing as it was, I couldn’t fathom what the hell I had to do with it.
I was no closer to figuring it out when my phone rang. Caller ID showed Tristan’s name.
I grinned. “You’re getting lazy. This background check has some serious holes in it.”
“Well, hello to you, too, sunshine.” Tristan chuckled into the phone.
Clicking on the speaker button, I tossed the phone on my desk. “Piss off.”
More chuckling. “That’s what you did last night. Where’d you go, man?”
“What are you talking about?”
I knew exactly what he was referring to, but how the hell could I tell him I’d left the club because I’d been worried about Snow being alone in my apartment? All evening, I’d been thinking about how this arrangement would affect us both.
It didn’t matter how I looked at it, she was the one sacrificing the most.
So yeah, I’d been worried and went home.
“Don’t give me that shit.” Tristan snorted. “When Rafe and I returned from the dance floor, you were nowhere to be found.”
I shrugged even though he couldn’t see me. “Wasn’t in a party mood, I guess.”
There were a few seconds of silence, then, “You know, you always say that, and yet there’s a constant stream of women leaving your apartment in the mornings. Women Rafe and I usually don’t remember you meeting.”
Stupid of me to think someone wouldn’t notice. My heart beat a few beats faster.
“What’s your point?”
“I don’t know,” Tristan said. “Maybe all these women are a distraction, so we won’t know what’s really going on?”
I forgot how to breathe. “Which is?”
“That you bat for the other team. Explains why you had to pay someone to marry you. Not that it matters. I mean, love is love, after all.”
He managed to sound serious for about five seconds before he broke out into a fit of laughter. And as much as I wanted to laugh with him, I just couldn’t. I wanted to reach into my past and erase every encounter with the women from the agency.
Maybe seeking companionship in this way wasn’t such a bad thing. And maybe my friends wouldn’t see me any differently if they knew the truth. Or perhaps they would. It was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.
Even more, the media would have a fucking field day with information like this.
I couldn’t have that kind of publicity linked to Nouvelle Femme. Not just for the company’s sake but my mother’s memory, too.
“Dude, are you even listening?” Tristan’s voice snapped me back to the conversation. “It was just a joke, man.”
I cleared my throat and my thoughts. “Sorry, I was distracted by your half-assed work.”
“Excuse me, I am incapable of doing anything half-assed.”
I couldn’t see him, but I heard the smugness in his voice and already knew what came next before he even said it.
“Just ask the redhead who left my bed this morning. She was thoroughly satisfied…many times over.”
“I’m sure she was,” I deadpanned. “I, however, am not. I need to know why Sno…uh…Everlee’s company let her go.”
Tristan’s voice turned serious. “Why? Did something happen?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. The woman seems to believe I had something to do with her getting fired.”
“What?” Tristan barked out a laugh. “How?”
“Fuck if I know.”
“All right, I’ll make a few calls. I just—”
My office door flew open, cutting Tristan off.
“This is all shit,” the man in my doorway yelled. He took one look around and then marched himself straight to my desk.
Behind him, Tamara mouthed the word “Sorry” before she hurried away.
Tristan was still talking. Snatching my phone, I turned the speakerphone off and pressed it against my ear.
“Listen, man,” I interrupted. “I gotta go.”
He chuckled. “Just wanted to check that you were still breathing after your vanishing act. Oh, and, uh, are we still doing poker night now that you’re old and married?”
I barely resisted the urge to roll my eyes. “We’re still on for poker. But don’t use the spare key. I don’t live alone anymore.”
With that, I ended the call. The line was barely dead when Francisco, the Brazilian photographer in charge of the new line’s advertisement, tossed a heap of photos on my desk.
“It’s all shit,” he said again. Slumping down into the chair in front of me like his last breath just left his body, he let out a long-winded groan. “How am I supposed to work with that?”
I gathered the images and slowly flicked through them. The women in them were all gorgeous and would be great in any ad campaign. “What seems to be the problem?”
“There is no life, no soul,” the Brazilian complained. “The camera is looking at them, but they aren’t looking back.”
I scanned the photos again. He wasn’t wrong. These women didn’t give off the feeling I wanted to evoke with the new line. There was no passion.
“I’ll contact a different modeling agency,” I told him.
Narrowing his eyes, he swept his long hair out of his face. “I don’t want sticks.” When I just blinked, he sighed dramatically. “A woman, a true woman, has curves”—he made an hourglass figure with his hands—“a smile that comes from the heart, and a beauty no man can deny. You don’t want to just sleep with her, you want to laugh with her, sit with her. Just be with her.”
Again, he was right. That was exactly what I had in mind. But where did we find such a woman?
“I hear what you’re saying,” Leaning back, I smoothed a palm over my tie. “You’ll have new models to work with before the end of the day.”
He pushed to his feet and poked his forefinger at me. “No sticks.”
“There won’t be a stick in sight.”
Apparently, that was good enough. Without uttering another word, the man spun around and left my office in a much calmer way than he’d entered. I waited until the door clicked shut before I threw my head back and scrubbed my hand over my face.
It wasn’t even nine yet. Surely the day could only get better from here.
I should have known not to tempt Murphy. The day hadn’t gone better; and by the time I walked through my front door just after ten that night, I was ready to collapse.
And as horrid as days like this were, I welcomed them, too.
Because a tired mind couldn’t run rampant.
Which usually meant I’d get a few more hours of sleep before the past slithered into my consciousness.
That was why I didn’t even bother stopping by the kitchen to grab something to eat. The sooner I got to bed, the better. Only problem was, when I walked past Snow’s door and noticed the light still on, my body decided to stop moving.
I was overcome with a profound need to see her. To look into those big green eyes. To take that floral, strawberry scent to my lungs.
Bracing my hands on the frame, I turned my head and leaned closer. Music played in the background. It was faint, but I recognized it as the same music I’d caught her dancing to.
She wasn’t singing along; I could tell as much. So, what was she doing?
I raised my hand to knock, but my fist stopped an inch from the wood.
What was I going to say when she opened the door?
“I had a long day and thought seeing you would make it better.”
The woman would think I’d lost my damn mind. And she wouldn’t even be wrong.
With a sigh, I opened my hand and gently pressed my palm against her door instead.
“Goodnight, Snow.”