Nine
Amber
Once dinner had been announced, guests gradually filtered into the marquee to check the seating plan. I had arranged for a couple of waitresses to serve each guest a fresh drink for my father’s speech, and the crates of iced vintage champagne were soon emptied.
Once the starter was served, I allowed myself to relax. The waiting staff were so organised that it was like a military exercise. Each table was served quickly to ensure all guests could begin their dishes together while they were still hot.
I hadn’t worried about not having enough seats, as Martin held the guest list and had been placed on the door with strict instructions.
If your name’s not down, you’re not coming in.
At my eighteenth birthday party, a few gate-crashers had arrived and the caterers had struggled to accommodate them all. Friends of friends who hadn’t been invited turned up and it had been complete chaos. Especially when Paul Cooper, a boy I used to go to school with started doing doughnuts around our yard in his father’s Maserati. He’d caused over five grand’s worth of damage to the fountain which used to sit in the middle of our driveway. That had also been the end of my wild child years.
I was sitting at a table with my father, my Uncle Richard (dad’s brother), some of their childhood friends and my three cousins, Susie, Piper, and Clark. Most of my family lived in the States and were unable to attend.
Daddy’s speech had gone well although I’d turned beetroot red as he had asked me to stand so everyone could applaud my efforts in organising the party.
The murmurs and laughter of delighted guests rose above the live music playing discreetly in the background .
My eyes scanned the sea of faces before me. Everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves. I had hired a George Michael tribute singer for the disco which would take place after coffee. His team had already set his equipment up and he would replace the string quartet who were currently playing softly on stage.
I felt a twinge of annoyance toward Mia for blowing me off as I smiled at the stranger sitting in her place beside me. She had switched her place card with one of my father’s associates. A man I had never met previously who had to be pushing ninety. He’d introduced himself as Monty Pritchard and boy could he talk.
Mia had manufactured her move to the table I had placed Max and his friend Luca on; the minx. From where I was, they appeared to be having a great time and were the loudest table in the tent. I felt a twinge of envy that she could adapt so easily to any situation she found herself in and was a natural crowd-pleaser.
My skin prickled as I watched Max chatting to Molly Singleton, his lazy grin grating on my last nerve. As his lips moved, I remembered how amazingly sinful they had felt on mine. Firm and greedy with just the right amount of pressure. The way his tongue had taken control, so strong and determined. Hot as fuck. Thank goodness I was sitting down as my legs started feeling weak at those lustful thoughts. I needed to have a serious talk with my body. I would not allow Max Hunter and his badass attitude to become the second biggest mistake of my life.
I inhaled deeply, dragging air in my lungs as I tried to establish why I was so jealous of the scene before me. Max and Molly , wow, that had a nice ring to it, unfortunately .
I suddenly lost my appetite as I watched the two guests flirting with each other. Molly was a model; tall and slim with stunning features which sat under a halo of golden hair that fell to her waist. Sitting next to Max, I could see that her height wasn’t far off his so she had to be well over six feet tall. What was Max, six four? Molly was also a sure thing and so Max wouldn’t have to work for it if he was planning on screwing someone in our house. Rumour had it that Molly’s vagina was so wide you could park a car in there. She was nice though as a person and not vain at all. She also came from a good family and had sadly lost a parent, something I could relate to.
I had only invited her so her mother had a plus one to come to the party. Andrea Singleton was also a widower and was one of the women I had tried to set my father up with over the past few months. He’d been on his own for too long now. It was annoying that Andrea now seemed to be enjoying the company of Simon Longwood, one of my father’s legal team. Simon was around ten years younger than Dad. He was also good-looking and in top shape. The man even had a dimple on his chin. My poor old dad didn’t stand a chance against a man who looked like that. My father was short and skinny and his weathered face an example of a man who had worked himself to the bone. In a nutshell, Jonny let himself go when his wife died.
My nerves shifted restlessly and before dear old Monty could start to tell me any more about his ingrowing toenail, I excused myself and went to check on the band.
Everything had gone to plan so why did I feel so edgy? It was almost like the build-up to the party had kept my nerves in check but now everything was done, I didn’t know what to do with myself.
As the band started to sound check to Careless Whisper and the guests cheered, I walked across the dance floor, out of the marquee and up towards the house. Caterers were in and out of the kitchen and the chefs still looked harassed even though coffee was being served. A few guests were back at the bar on the patio. The area was still full of action and on autopilot, I moved down the corridor and pushed the door to my father’s study open. I needed a breather from all those heavily scented bodies and a timeout to get a grip. The emotions flowing through me were difficult to describe and I knew I needed to see the image of my mother. She always kept me grounded and calm.
Dad’s study was a large room and extremely masculine with oak panelling on the walls, a desk at one end and two leather Chesterfield chairs sitting in front of a large open fireplace. Books lined the walls and it always smelt musky in there and looked like it needed dusting.
I walked across the thick carpet and looked above the mantle of the unlit fireplace. In the winter, Daddy would have the thing roaring and we would sit and reminisce about Mummy.
The only feminine thing in the room was the painting of my mother. It was the same as the print which hung in the hallway of our house but this one was the original and painted with oils.
The painting had taken several sittings, I remember hiding behind the curtains in the stateroom when the artist was working. I found it fascinating how he had brought my mother’s stunning face to life on that canvas.
“She was beautiful,” Max’s voice suddenly sounded from behind me. I turned my head to the side to acknowledge his presence. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him being in there.
“Thank you,” I replied in a small voice. That thrum of pain which was always there stirred in my chest. If he said anything inappropriate with my mother looking down on us, I would probably have him escorted off the estate.
I could feel Max’s masculine aura and strength as he came closer and stood beside me. He filled the room without even saying much. From my periphery, I saw his focus was also on the grand painting.
“I bet she was a good mom,” he added softly, turning towards me.
I twisted my shoulders and pulled my gaze away from the painting.
“The best,” I replied, lifting my chin, and looking up into his perfect face. He must have followed me to make amends for earlier which surprised me. He’d never attempted to apologise for his behaviour in the past. I took the olive branch like the bigger person I was.
His whisky-coloured eyes rested on mine and for the first time, I didn’t feel any animosity coming off him. It could have been the alcohol or the fact that I was tired, but I felt all the fight drain out of me.
“I was being a dick, please forgive me,” Max added, vastly improving my opinion of him. “I was joking. I didn’t mean to come across as a prick.”
If Max could be civil then so could I.
“It’s my fault too, I’m not usually so touchy but tonight has wiped me out,” I explained, meeting him halfway.
I smiled and then turned back to the painting. I felt Max do the same.
“Tell me about your childhood?” he said in an encouraging tone; one that suggested, trust me . But could I? We’d done nothing but aggravate each other ever since the day we met. But of course, he wasn’t entirely to blame for that. I knew I hadn’t been the easiest person to get along with.
I shot him a quizzical look. “Why?”
Pursing his lips, Max replied. “Humour me.”
I sighed. “I can assure you there is nothing humorous about my childhood.”
Max moved away and lowered himself onto the armrest of one of the leather chairs. This brought his face more on a level and I didn’t have to crane my neck as much. He still looked larger than life even though his stance was less intimidating.
“So, what went wrong? You’re surely not going to play the poor little rich girl card?” He said, gesturing all around us at the obvious wealth in the room; the expensive paintings hanging there, and the Trussardi Casa décor. The soft furnishings and items in the room screamed quality and expense. His poor little rich girl comment wasn’t said in an antagonistic way and he had a point .
I leaned down and removed my heels, my feet were killing and dropped them onto the chair opposite Max. I remained standing and wiggled my toes to get some of the life back.
My resistance was wavering and after a beat I said. “What if I do decide to play that card?” Those dangerous waters loomed closer.
Max dashed a hand down his jaw. “If you’re referring to the loss of your mother, then I could accept that, but something suggests that isn’t it. That there’s something else lurking in your past and it's dark and undealt with.”
I smiled and raised my eyebrows, “Wow, you’re a regular Sherlock Holmes.” Before I could stop myself, I added, “Don’t you need to get back to your date?”
“She isn’t my date and you know it. Stop trying to change the subject.”
Pursing my lips, I narrowed my eyes, “What has Mia been saying?” I questioned, pushing some strands of hair back from my face. I suddenly felt hot and sticky.
“Mia said very little. I’ve always had my suspicions,” Max informed me, folding his arms over his chest.
“About what?”
“That something isn’t right with you.”
I shifted nervously from one foot to the other, feeling uneasy. “Mia needs to keep her mouth shut.”
He smiled at my reply, but it didn’t reach his eyes. They were in full assessment mode.
I took a small step back as Max dropped his arms and pushed to his feet, watching me down his nose.
Within two steps he was standing in front of me, so very tall and broad. My pulse jerked as he raised his hand and tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. It was such a tender move and it scared the crap out of me. Don’t let him in , my instincts screamed .
“Demons will always come back to haunt you if you don’t exercise them.” Max drawled confidentially with a dark expression, his eyes drilling into mine. He then ran the back of his fingers down my cheek. Almost like a lover’s caress. Warm heat spread further throughout my body at his closeness. He dwarfed me without my heels and his natural energy started to surround me. My blood pumped through my veins and my heart rate increased. I needed to get a grip, he was one man and he was on my territory. I held all the power.
I could smell the faint tinge of whisky on his breath. It was such a pleasant aroma, that I wanted to bottle it. My body started to soften, surrendering itself.
“A problem shared is a problem halved,” Max added softly. His tone was now almost intoxicating.
“Why don’t you share your darkness with me? Give me all your ugly. I can handle it.” I was mesmerised by his words. Gone was the sarcasm and disdain, his voice was honest and open and so very tempting.
“Please?”
Those words were a direct hit and my heart started to hammer in my chest.
The intensity of his stare made it feel like he was inside my head, connected and could easily unearth my darkest secrets. Bare witness to that hurt child of my past; an impressionable teenager believing she was in love for the first time. All that corrupted innocence would bubble back to the surface.
“Why don’t you tell me about him?” Max prodded further.
Him.
Inhaling, I managed to come to my senses. I was a strong confident woman now, not a victim. No one would manipulate me into giving anything away if I wasn’t ready.
“How do you know it was a man?” I said, looking up at him through my lashes.
“I didn’t until now. You have a very expressive face, freckles. ”
Freckles . Fuck! My breath caught in my throat as Zander flashed into my thoughts. That was what he used to call me.
“Are you OK?” Max suddenly said as he placed a hand on my shoulder.
I suddenly felt like I couldn’t breathe.
“Here, sit down. I’ll get you a drink,” Max suggested wrapping his hands around my shoulders and leading me to a chair.
The leather creaked under my weight and I watched Max through a haze of discomfort as he went over to my father’s drinks trolly.
Twisted they had called Zander at the time, and they had been right, but I had been blind and too mind-numbingly stubborn to see it. A confused child in the throes of becoming a woman racing ahead before she was well and truly ready. A grieving, malleable girl with a sheltered background plucked from her gilded cage. That version of myself hadn’t stood a chance.
Once the realisation of the truth sucker punched me a year or so later, I had tried so hard to protect myself. Honing my sharp tongue and shitty disposition, but this man appeared to see through all my bullshit. He made me feel that weakness from my past; dragging me back to when I’d felt exposed.
And the truth of that hit me hard.
A crystal tumbler was shoved into my shaking hands with the instruction, “Drink.”
And I did, the burn of my father’s favourite malt was welcome and I swallowed the entire contents.
“Easy,” Max said, dropping down onto his haunches in front of my knees. He took the glass from my fingers and placed it on the hearth by his side; he then wrapped his hands over mine, and I welcomed his soothing touch.
“Better?”
I nodded my head, suddenly feeling foolish. I hated how the shadows of the past still hung over me .
As Max pushed to his feet and pulled me up slowly by my hands, I stared at his chest.
“Anyone in there?” he said, with a finger under my chin. As he drew my head up, his eyes bore into me and he took a slight step back, probably to give me the air that I needed, but my body naturally swayed towards his.
Safe. This man made me feel many things but that all-important one was at the top of the list and now glaringly obvious.
Yes, he reminded me of my past but maybe that wasn’t bad. As he said, if you don’t exercise your demons they stay with you.
My mouth parted as I looked up at Max. Could he fill the space inside me? Even if it was just a one-night-only deal?
The intense attraction between us was fierce and glaringly obvious to some. Why not listen to them and take from this man? Allow the chemistry to reel us together? I didn’t have to let him in, emotionally. My barrier could remain intact, my heart protected, but I would receive something I craved.
So far, other men I had been with had done very little for me, they were more like starters with the main course never being served. I needed a strong man and one who would understand my kinks but respect that there were boundaries. Surely it would be foolish to pass up on the opportunity. To have the chance to sate myself and ease that sexually frustrated side. I had heard about the colourful side of Max’s sex life and if it were all true, he was about as far from vanilla as you could get. Just what the doctor ordered.
Why not scratch the itch once and be done with it? As they say, something’s got to give. But what if I let him in physically and he dug deeper and penetrated my defences? What if Max could claw at my soul and make it his?
Should I go for it and sod the consequences? I was tired of feeling so numb all the time and if there was a man to shake things up, it was this guy.
It was hard but I dragged my gaze away and looked up at my mother.
“You miss her,” Max whispered, a thread of sympathy in his tone .
Another thick silence fell into the space, one that drowned out the music and chatter coming from the gardens. “Every day,” I agreed.
That rope that had drawn me back to that dark place snapped . Max’s question about my mother brought me back to reality.
My skin prickled as Max placed an arm on my shoulder and turned me slowly to face him.
Looking down into my upturned face he said, “You know, it’s OK not to be OK?”
His words lightened the mood and I arched an eyebrow. This comforting version of Max I wasn’t used to, “You sound like my therapist.”
Frown lines appeared on his forehead. “You have a therapist?”
“Doesn’t everyone?”
“I don’t,” he replied nonchalantly.
“You should,” I sassed with a slight smile. One which he mirrored.
A silence stretched between us as he dropped his hands.
“So?” Max said, clearing his throat.
“So?” I repeated, the waters between us now were the calmest they had ever been and I hoped he didn’t say anything to spoil it.
He didn’t, Max placed his hands under my armpits and swung me back onto the chair. His shoulders flexed against the material of his jacket making me catch my breath. Max then plucked my shoes from the other chair and bent before me. I placed a hand on his shoulder as he lifted one foot and then the other, sliding my sandals on. His grip on my ankle sent a rush of heat up my legs.
“I don’t know why you wear shoes with such a high heel. You could break your neck,” Max said.
I smoothed my dress down as he pushed to his feet, taking me with him. “I’m small, I need the height.”
“No, you don’t . Small females are cute. ”
“Exactly,” I replied with a pointed look. One he just grinned at.
Max stepped to the side, holding out his arm like a true gentleman. “Luca said something about a tour of the estate being on the cards. Shall we?” he asked, now all charm. I was relieved that he hadn’t pushed me to talk about ‘him’ who hurt me. He must have realised by my reaction that I wasn’t ready. It appeared there was more substance to Max than I thought.
“What about your date?”
“As I said, she isn’t my date,” Max replied with a sexy grin.
“Well in that case. Yes, if you like.” The fact that he would rather be there talking with me than getting to first base with Molly pleased me.
He asked for a tour and that is exactly what we did.
Max and I walked around the grounds of my house together, the conversation was not necessarily consistent but wasn’t forced. We shared silences without them being awkward and it felt nice to be in his company.
I took him to the stables and showed him our horses, pointing out Shadow, the black mare my father bought me for my sweet sixteenth. Max didn’t make any annoying jokes about Daddy having bought me a pony or anything like that. He was in good form, we both were. It was the first time I had held a proper conversation with a man I found attractive that naturally flowed. Without the ‘where is this leading’ shit that usually underlined most moments with members of the opposite sex.
Max was amused when I pointed to the car I’d never driven, admitting that it had caught his eye when he’d first arrived.
As we walked around the house and I showed him other pictures of my mother, he was genuinely interested. He told me I was her image and I took that as a huge compliment.
I asked him about his parents and he told me about when he’d taken over the family business. It sounded like he had struggled at first but eventually had doubled his father’s empire to a point where it was thriving. He explained how climbing inflation costs for building materials had made things extra tough and of course, surviving through the lockdown.
Max also told me that he had a twin but that, unfortunately, his brother had been stillborn. He tried to hide it but I could see it affected him. And why wouldn’t it? Twins were unusual due to the connection they had with each other. I asked Max if he felt like he was missing something, like a part of him, but he changed the subject. I had been surprised he’d mentioned it all, so I didn’t push it.
I saw a whole new side to Max Hunter during what had to be around an hour in his company. And I liked it.
After we had walked through most of the house and grounds, we bumped into Luca and Mia. They were both wasted and were coming out of the downstairs bathroom. Max and I shared a knowing look.
“That shade of lipstick looks good on you Luca,” Max chuckled.
Neither Luca nor Mia looked embarrassed, they were both grinning like fools. I rolled my eyes at Mia, in my bathroom, really ?
She could do worse though, Luca seemed like a nice guy and interesting, something her last boyfriend was not. Luca had that aura that suggested he thought everything in the world was a joke and if it wasn’t it should be.
It was getting late and some of the guests had started to leave and I excused myself, saying I’d find them later.
As Luca, Max and Mia went down the corridor towards the bar in the garden, Max glanced back and our eyes locked.
We shared an understanding silence, a peace offering in that stare.
After Daddy’s fireworks display, I spent the next half an hour, thanking guests with him. The night was a big success, in more ways than one.
I joined Mia and the boys and we sat around the table where we had spoken earlier. They were doing shots and I decided to let my hair down and join in.
The next hour we all put the world to rights .
I felt like myself again, it was almost like we were on a double date. I didn’t feel defensive or under attack, I felt like who I was supposed to be, a twenty-one-year-old woman enjoying a good time with her friends.
A slice of my demon had been exercised and Max Hunter had been the one to help with that. But how long would that last? Under no circumstances could I allow one monster to be replaced by another.
And that was part of the confusion, a major brain fuck. I had started to realise that Max Hunter wasn’t the problem.
The monster was me.