Chapter 47
PAIGE—ONE YEAR LATER
“Alfie’s sleeping.” Max creeps into my bedroom—sorry, our bedroom, because Max lives with me now—on his tiptoes as if not wanting to wake Alfie up.
We haven’t moved all of his belongings into my place yet, but we will soon.
We’ll be forced to do so once the sale of his penthouse goes through.
After that, we need to figure out how to accommodate his numerous cars.
We’ve already discussed building a house together; hopefully, we can find land big enough to include a garage to house ten cars plus a motorcycle.
I still have to pinch myself sometimes to remind me that this is real and that Max would rather move into my home that is a quarter of the size of his.
He walks across the bedroom, wearing nothing but his black boxers, making my mouth water.
He’s so fit, and tight, and big… in all the right places.
To say it’s been a crazy twelve months would be an understatement.
Starting my own firm didn’t last long, and now I work for Hart Law.
Don’t ask; it felt right, and that’s all I’ll say about my decision.
Well, it’s also because they are the top law firm in the state, which might have influenced my choice.
And I got offered the job before Max and I were a thing, so there’s no nepotism.
It feels good to co-counsel with Max. No longer do we work against each other; we work with each other, in the boardroom and bedroom.
Nathan was right; together, we’re a force to be reckoned with.
Now we are representing one of the wealthiest actors in Hollywood; he’s going through a messy divorce with his wife.
Once we finalize this divorce, there’s no doubt more celebrities will be lining up to ask for our help.
“I hope he sleeps all night.” Max crosses his fingers and pulls a silly face that has me laughing.
“Fingers crossed.” It’s been the hottest summer on record, and he’s been unsettled at night for the last week.
“He did say dada, as if he understood me when I asked him if he would sleep all night.” Max laughs at our quirky little dude.
Max strides over to the dresser across the room, yanking open the top drawer and rifling through its contents.
I can’t quite see what he’s pulling out—his broad back blocks my view.
But honestly, that view alone is enough to make my mouth go dry.
Those sculpted muscles he’s flexing might be my new favorite obsession.
“I was thinking,” he says, his voice dropping low and rough, “we could have a little fun tonight.”
A thrill shoots straight through me.
“That depends on what kind of fun,” I manage, breathless, my heart pounding. What is he planning?
Then he flicks off the side lamp, plunging the room into darkness for a heartbeat, before switching on a black light that bathes everything in an electric, sinful glow.
A rush of excitement nearly sends me spinning off the bed.
When he finally turns around, I gasp.
He’s wearing the same fox mask he wore on that first night at The Velvet Rooms, the one burned into my memory forever.
“Where did you get that?” I ask, breathlessly.
He smiles wickedly. “I might have called in a favor from Cat.”
Under the black light, the blue outlines of the eye holes glow with an otherworldly menace, making him look wild, dangerous, and irresistibly sexy.
He tilts his head, slow and predatory, studying me like prey.
Without a moment’s hesitation, I pull my T-shirt up over my head and roll onto my side before opening the bottom drawer of my nightstand and pull out the bunny mask I kept from that very night.
A dark smile curves his lips. “Bunny.”
I slip my mask on, heart hammering. “Mr. Fox,” I say, dropping my voice now wearing nothing but the mask, and my tattoo that’s glowing under the black light.
He stalks toward me, shadows dancing over the neon lines of his mask.
“Don’t be scared, little bunny,” he growls, the same dark promise he whispered that very first night.
But I’m not scared. Not even close.
I’m safe. I’m happy.
And he was worth every single risk.
We were worth it.
If you had asked me this time last year where Alfie’s adoption would be, I never would have predicted this.
Not only am I officially Alfie’s mom, but having Max Hart’s name on his adoption certificate would have felt like an impossible, ridiculous dream.
But last month, Max asked if he could adopt Alfie as his own, and to say I was shocked to my core would be an understatement.
I cried, he cried when I said yes, and we’ve already started the paperwork to make that happen.
It’s surreal to say the least, but it’s all real.
And if I had to do it all over again, I’d break every rule in the book, twice, just to spend the rest of my life with him.
Something I fully intend to do.
If breaking rules means saying yes to eternity, then so be it because I’m going to ask him to marry me.
Then Max will be mine, and Alfie’s. Forever.