Eleven #4
The sudden question catches me off guard, but I answer anyway.
“Ovarian cysts. I needed surgery.”
“You okay now?”
“Yeah. The surgery fixed it.”
He nods once before looking back down at the album and turning the page.
Pictures of baby Aurora fill the next few pages.
He studies them so carefully it almost feels like he’s trying to step inside the photographs.
While he’s still staring at them, I finally ask the question that’s been circling in my head.
“Why did you ask Emily that question? Were you actually banned from the hotel?”
“Yeah. Emily didn’t like me getting too friendly with her staff,” he answers without looking at me.
I don’t know why my heartbeat suddenly picks up.
“Too friendly?”
He finally glances up, wearing that same calm, infuriating expression.
“You know how warm and friendly I can be, Strawberry.”
I let out an irritated breath and refuse to argue with him. God, this manwhore wears his depravity like a badge of honor.
When he looks back down at the album, I move away and go back to gathering the rest of my things.
Once I finish packing everything else, I realize I need a few trash bags, so I step out of the suite.
That’s when I spot Marcel.
The ridiculously handsome French manager that has always been nice to me.
Sometimes very nice.
The second he sees me, his face lights up and he walks over.
He pulls me into a hug, his thick French accent wrapping around the words.
“Ava! You’re back!”
He squeezes me a little too tightly, making me press a hand against his chest and push myself back.
I offer him a small smile.
“Not really. I just came to pack my things.”
He lets me go, a faint frown appearing on his face.
“I thought you’d come back to work after you recovered.”
“No, Marcel. I’m not coming back.”
He nods slowly.
“I see.”
After a short pause, he adds, “So… how about we grab a drink tonight?”
“Um… I don’t think that’s a very good idea, Marcel.”
His hand closes gently around my arm.
“Why not? Ever since the first day I saw you, I wanted to ask you out. But you were the hotel owner’s kid’s nanny. Forbidden fruit.”
I’m about to answer him when every trace of warmth suddenly disappears from his face. His gaze fixes somewhere behind me, making me turn around.
Maxim is standing there, staring at us with an expression so cold it instantly sends tension through my body. His eyes drag slowly from our faces downward, stopping on Marcel’s hand still wrapped around my arm.
When he looks back at us again, I immediately step away, and Marcel lets go of me so fast he almost looks startled himself.
He awkwardly clears his throat.
“Maxim. Didn’t expect to see you here.”
Maxim doesn’t answer. He just keeps staring at him with open hostility.
I literally watch the color drain from poor Marcel’s face.
Trying to ease the tension, I quickly say, “I came out to grab a few trash bags.”
Maxim shifts that cold look toward me before finally speaking a few seconds later.
“Go finish packing the rest of your stuff. I’m sure Marcel’s nice enough to bring a few trash bags for my daughter’s mother.”
Well.
I guess Maxim officially dragged me and Aurora straight into his dangerous territory, poor Marcel is now trying to escape with every survival instinct he has left.
He stares at us with his mouth slightly open for a few seconds, and once Maxim’s words fully sink in, he gives us the most awkward smile imaginable.
“Of course.”
Then he practically flees down the hallway like Death himself is chasing him.
Maxim watches me for another moment before stepping away from the doorway.
The message is clear.
Without another word, I head back into the suite, leaving poor Marcel and his drink invitation outside forever.
I move toward the closet to pack the last few things when I hear Maxim’s voice behind me.
“So this little French rooster is why you got all dressed up?”
I turn around and find him standing way too close, chest almost brushing mine, completely invading my personal space. My stomach twists nervously, but I refuse to back down. I won’t let him see he intimidates me.
How the hell does he have the nerve to judge me when he’s slept with half the female population?
I cross my arms over my chest.
“No, I didn’t dress up for him. But even if I did, it’s none of your business. Last time I checked, you said I could be with whoever I wanted.”
A smirk pulls at his mouth.
“So that’s what today was? Hunting season? Because that outfit definitely suggests it.”
I let out an irritated breath.
“I wasn’t hunting. There was no reason to scare poor Marcel like that.”
“I didn’t scare him. He scared himself.”
“He got scared because you were staring at him like a hungry bear.”
His eyes sweep over me again before he plants one hand against the closet door behind me and leans down until my back hits the closet door.
He brushes the back of his fingers over my cheek.
There’s nothing gentle about the touch.
Everything about him feels like a threat.
I jerk my head away. “Cut the crap.”
This time, he grabs my chin firmly, forcing me to look into his eyes.
“He got scared because he realized touching you means touching something Maxim already had his hands on.”
His index finger slides over my lips.
“Here.”
He releases my chin and trails his hand lower, tracing a slow circle over my breast through the fabric of my dress while my breathing turns uneven.
“Here…”
His hand moves lower.
“And—”
Before he can touch me between my legs through the dress, I grab his wrist.
Like it always does, my body reacts instantly to his touch, but I refuse to humiliate myself by showing it.
I hide the reaction behind anger. “Stop this bullshit.”
But he doesn’t stop.
His nose trails slowly along my cheek as he murmurs,
“He knew he should smell you the same way I did.”
Without meaning to, I inhale deeply, filling my lungs with his masculine scent.
The same scent burned into my memory three years ago.
His lips brush near my ear.
“And hear the same moans of pleasure I pulled out of you.”
I let go of his wrist and shove myself away from him.
He doesn’t resist. He lets me go.
I swallow hard.
“Just because you touched me once doesn’t make me used goods.”
A crooked grin spreads across his face. He pushes himself off the closet door and straightens up.
Once again, his shameless gaze drifts over the tops of my breasts spilling slightly above the neckline of my dress.
“No, Strawberry. I assure you…you’re very usable.”
His eyes meet mine again.
“And apparently very fucking needy too. I’m pretty damn good at spotting that kind of thing. You know that.”
God.
He read me again.
He always does.
All I can do is glare at him.
This time, he lets out a low laugh under his breath before finally walking out of the suite without another word.
I drag a frustrated hand over my neck where his breath had heated my skin only moments ago and curse him silently.
Asshole.
After giving myself a few minutes to calm down and let the heat inside me settle, I finally finish packing the rest of Aurora’s things.