Chapter 12
MAX
A glimpse of sweeping black silk and long blonde hair is all I see dashing out the main entrance of The Velvet Rooms.
Is that her? Bunny?
If that’s her, she’s a bit taller than I thought, and from what I can see, her curves are fucking perfect. She’s wearing that silk dress like it’s her second skin.
With desperation, I hastily walk toward the entrance, but before I think I’m in the clear to leave, the hostess at the door stops me in my tracks. Shit.
“Sorry, sir, everyone must sign out before they leave.” She taps her long red nails against the screen of the electronic tablet sitting in a cradle in front of her, indicating where I should sign.
“Sure,” I agree, even though my feet are itching to run outside and chase after the woman who rocked my world tonight.
“Name please?” She stares at her own screen.
“Max Hart.”
She takes a moment to find my name. “You can sign your name now.”
Using my pointer finger, I sign the screen. It’s the worst signature I’ve ever seen and bears no resemblance to my actual penned signature I must write at least twenty-five times a day on legal documents.
“I hope you had a pleasant night, sir.”
It was more than pleasant. All other dates are forgettable. “I have no complaints.”
“Glad to hear it. If you ever consider becoming a member—”
I interject because my patience is wearing thin. “I’ve to apply on the website. Yeah, I know.” Adding myself to that waiting list isn’t something I’m remotely interested in anymore. “Now, if you excuse me, I have to go.”
The hostess nods in acknowledgment, not offended by my abrupt words because I think she can sense that I’m in a rush. “Just your mask then please, sir, and you’ll be free to leave.” She makes a gimme gesture with her hand, beckoning me to pass her the disguise mask, which I gladly hand over.
Goodbye, Mr. Fox, it’s time to be myself. A sudden thought hits me like an eighteen-wheeler truck. Hell, what if she doesn’t like me?
Who am I kidding? Everyone loves me, except maybe Paige Bradshaw, because she thinks I’m a fucking asshole. That’s what she called me on the phone the other day.
“Good night,” I say in haste, pushing the door open and storming out into the night like I’m about to hunt something down. More like someone.
I hit the sidewalk and freeze, eyes darting left, right. Nothing.
Where the hell is she?
I spin around, take a few steps one way, and then the other.
No sign of her.
I look behind me, then across the damn street like she might materialize out of thin air.
She’s not here.
My hands tear through my hair, gripping hard at the back of my neck. The pressure does nothing to stop the surge building in my chest.
“Fuck.”
She’s gone.
I spin back around and bang on the door with my fist. “Open up. I forgot something,” I lie.
It automatically opens for me and, relieved that it worked, I race in to find the hostess again.
I’m out of breath now for no other reason than I’m exasperated. “Excuse me, miss, I know this isn’t following protocol, but the woman who left just before me, did she say anything at all?”
“I can’t discuss other patrons with you, sir.”
“No?” I eye her suspiciously in a stare-off. “And what about now, Storm?” I pass her two Benjamins, calling her by the name on her badge.
She slides the two hundred dollars toward her before folding them and stuffing them between her deep cleavage. “Her kid had an emergency, and she left so fast, I had to sign her out.”
“And her name would be?” I draw out my words slowly, even though I’m a man on the edge.
“I can’t tell you that, sir.”
“So, you have nothing to tell me?”
Storm smirks wickedly. “I can tell you only a few things. She was blonde, with the bluest of eyes, very pretty.”
Fucking pointless. But she sounds beautiful.
“I advise you to fill out the Hook Me Up form we send tomorrow via email, sir. And if she does the same, then and only then will we connect you.”
That’s so disappointing; I wanted to know her name and see what she looks like now. Not tomorrow. Or a week from now. Now. I’m not a patient man, and my patience is already on thin ice. “Okay. Thank you.” I nod a farewell.
Just as I’m about to walk out of the door, Storm calls back to me. “There was one thing.”
“What was that?” My chest fills with hope.
“She took a bunny mask by mistake.”
That isn’t helpful to me.
“Do people ever fill out the Hook Me Up form?” I ask reflexively.
“Yes. More often than you think.”
Optimism stirs beneath my ribcage. “And if she does want that? What happens next?”
“Then, with permission from you both, we organize a date, either here or at a place of your choice.”
“Until then, it’s a waiting game?”
“Yes, sir.”
This is bullshit. “Thank you for your time,” I say, completely deflated.
I push open the door, then text my driver to come pick me up.
While I’m waiting, I stuff my hands into the pockets of my dress pants and look to the sky for some help. Fuck it. I’ll never find her there.
She has a sick kid so I get why she fled.
But chase after her? I never do that.
And commitment? That’s not for me.
I’ve built my world on focus, success and being the best, not distractions. I try to justify why I shouldn’t care.
Never does my head turn or my heart beg.
I like being alone. I don’t need her; I never did.
She’s got a kid.
Fuck, that’s a curveball right there.
And I sure as hell don’t do kids. Never will.
That’s a life I don’t plan to sign up for. Diapers, school runs, coming second to someone else’s past, and complicated relationships with ex-partners? Not me. Not ever.
That’s not cold, that’s me being honest with myself. I know what I want, and it’s not built around someone else’s family.
Nope. I don’t need her…
Then why does it feel like I’ve already lost something I never even had?