Chapter 22
MAX
I’m sitting on the chair in the darkened room of the presidential suite in the hotel, drinking yet another whiskey.
It’s been over two hours, and it’s time I faced the truth: she’s not coming.
My fingers tighten around the glass, and my stomach knots with self-hatred for thinking she would.
Fuck.
What an arrogant idiot I’ve been. She doesn’t even like me, so why would she show up?
She has no reason to.
And on top of that, we’re representing opposing sides in an active case.
This isn’t just awkward; it’s completely inappropriate. I’m not only being insensitive; I’m also being unprofessional. Something I never am.
Paige was right not to show up. She’s the better person.
My move was a bold one. Too bold. Even for me.
I put my glass down on the side table and reach for my suit jacket as any last bit of hope I had slips from my fingers.
And that’s when I hear it. The click. The opening of the handle and the sound of the door being pushed open.
She stands there, a silhouette against the corridor light behind her, the contrast stark in the dim room.
It’s Paige.
“Hey, Mr. Fox.”
Fuck.
She’s here.