Chapter 1 #2
“Too many? She obliterated that line the minute the tequila came out. She had at least six tequila shots, and that was before the toast. Do you think it’s just the alcohol?” She raised her brow.
I leaned in. Her voice was a tad too loud, and I panicked. Family was scattered all around. We weren’t out of earshot, and the last thing we needed was to have it handed to us.
“Well, do you?” she pushed once more.
Laughing would be inappropriate, but I couldn’t refrain. “God, no.”
“I figured as much.” Daisy suddenly wrapped her hand around my wrist and nodded toward the door, pulling me in slightly. “When did he get back?”
“Who?” I followed her line of sight, scanning the crowd of people.
She pointed discreetly to a tall figure striding across the room—the ruthless protégé, if you will. “Max.”
It had been a year since I last heard the name, which only made it a year too soon.
Max was a grumpy man with nothing better to do with his time besides work for my father.
He was the one my father trusted the most. Max handled all his dirty work.
He was strict and demanding. I could hardly do anything without my father’s watchdog near me.
I’d never understood why my father allowed someone so drastically younger than him to be his right-hand man—that is, until I heard about what Max did. He took hearts, and I don’t mean romantically. He certainly wasn’t a charmer. He had a pretty face though.
So maybe I’d missed him a little bit.
Max crossed the room with confident strides, ignoring anyone who greeted him. He stopped in front of my father, who gave him a stern look. Max nodded, but it didn’t seem like he was paying much attention to my father anymore. Instead it was me he was watching from across the room.
I could feel his eyes, and gosh, did they sting.
When I still lived here with my parents, Max was assigned as my bodyguard, my mentor, my babysitter—whatever the hell my father deemed necessary. He was always watching me, constantly correcting my behavior.
I’d forgotten what it felt like to be watched constantly. I had Max’s attention, and I didn’t know what to do with it. I felt watched. Too watched. Like if I made the smallest mistake, he’d remember it for later use.
Daisy excused herself when she saw him approach. Everyone here feared him. I think my father did too, though he’d sooner die than admit that. I wasn’t scared. I knew Max had a soft spot for me, even if he tried to hide it.
“Oh, goody,” I said, holding my hands behind my back. “You again.” I turned to face him, stopping dead in my tracks the moment his cologne—which smelled a lot like trouble and expensive cigars—hit my nose. I tilted my head back an inch just to get a good look at the man.
A slow smirk played on his lips. “Rosalie,” he greeted. His voice was just as deep as I remembered it. “Happy to see me?”
The fabric of his jacket brushed against my elbow. Goose bumps erupted on my exposed arms, prickling even beneath the smooth fabric of my yellow dress.
My eyes lingered on him, unable to be torn away. His face held the same sharp angles I remembered, the strong nose that was the perfect counterpart to his high cheekbones, and his beard, neatly trimmed and clean-shaven, framed his rugged jawline.
Then there was that smile of his. It was too damn crooked.
“Happy might be the last thing that comes to mind when I think of you,” I said, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow.
“But you do think of me.” He looked back down at me.
I stood still, looking into his eyes. They were dark brown. They were pretty.
“Are you staying out of trouble?”
Oh, I hated that question. Hated how he always asked it. My eyes begged to roll, but I refrained, forcing a tight smile instead. “I was never in any,” I said.
“Said the world’s biggest damsel in distress. Very convincing,” he countered.
Damn the man and his stupid, perfect hair. It was messy. Dark. Curly. I wanted to mess it up, maybe even run my fingers through the ends.
“Don’t tell me you’re here to babysit me again. Always the bitch and never the boss.”
“Ah, your mouth hasn’t changed. I can see why your father hasn’t saddled any man with you yet.”
My mouth opened. I closed it. The nerve of him . . . This man drove me up the wall.
“What makes you think I want one? I’m no man’s peace,” I snapped.
“Clearly. How many have you run through, again?” he pondered.
I stifled a laugh no matter how much his words burned in my gut. Max and I were like flint and steel; a guaranteed spark, usually an insult, within seconds of being near each other. He was aware of my past. Clearly. It only made his words sting more.
Ugh, curse the man.
“You know I can’t stand you,” I snapped.
He took a slow, deliberate step closer, lingering his attention on my exposed skin as he gave me a side-smirk. “Oh, I know.”
“Why are you here?”
“I’m here to drive you. The car is ready to go whenever you are.”
“Sean is my usual driver, not you. I’ll be waiting for him,” I said, hoping he’d take the hint.
“Sean is a little busy. You’ll be waiting all night.”
The man could hardly stand me. I would not willingly trap myself in a car with him.
“If you’re the driver, I’d rather walk.”
He raised an eyebrow. “You? In those heels?” He gave me a once-over. “You wouldn’t make it a block.”
There it was—that annoying smugness. Max was back, and no matter how undeniably attractive he was, he got on my last nerve.
The truth was, much as I hated the idea of being stuck with him, walking wasn’t exactly an appealing option either. I wouldn’t admit that to him, but the bastard knew me, and he knew me well.
I needed to remember how to deal with his grumpy mannerisms quickly. It seemed like an impossible task. I’d have to have a serious talk with Sean about this . . . new arrangement.
With a defeated sigh, I muttered, “Fine. Take me home.”