Chapter 4
4
I stare at the polished oak of the stairwell door far longer than it warrants. Somewhere along the line, maybe through reading his real manuscript, I’ve lost any traces of fear when it comes to Max. He’s still big and I’m aware his yell is fearsome, but I’m confident he won’t actually hurt me. I move my gaze down to the keyhole. It’s a standard interior doorknob, albeit Victorian in design, so it’s probably not a complicated lock mechanism. And it also (probably) takes the same key as any other door in the house…
Wandering down hallways and checking behind open doors, it takes me twenty minutes to find a key in residence. On the backside of the door leading into the old butler’s pantry, off the kitchen. Which makes me wonder if Max even knew it was there? Did he think I wouldn’t scour the house if the need arose? Or did it never even occur to him that I might? Sighing, I make a beeline back to the most important door in the place at the moment. Holding my breath, I carefully insert the old iron skeleton key and twist.
Nothing.
I frown down at the cold bronze knob. That’s not an acceptable outcome. Then I lift the handle with all my weight and try again. This time, the lock mechanism turns. The door pops open with a soft sigh. The interior stairwell is dark. The storm has stolen the last few hours of daylight. Fumbling around for a light switch, I eventually find one. Is this why Max wanted me tucked away before dark, because the house is hard to navigate between light switches? Even with the illumination, the stairs are dim and I have to tread carefully. A creak elsewhere in the house has me gasping and clutching at the polished railing.
Climbing the stairs with steady determination, my steps slow and almost falter when I notice a blue-white glow coming from farther down the upper hall. Like the kind emitted by electronic screens in a dark room, only different somehow. Max must be fine, simply lost in his own personal doings, and I’m about to interrupt.
“Max?” I call softly, giving him one last chance to protect his precious privacy. There’s no response, and the glow doesn’t fade. It pulses ever so slightly though, as if breathing. Which can’t be possible, so maybe I’m more tired than I realize.
The walk down that hallway is the longest ever of my life. I need to know he’s okay, but at the same time, I’m sure our tentative arrangement is about to be blown to smithereens. He’ll be angry, no doubt accuse me of violating his trust. But if he’s sick, I can’t just leave him to die.
The door with the glow around the edges is shut, but thankfully not locked when I test the handle. I don’t think I have it in me to return to the base of the stairs to retrieve the first key. I slowly push the door open with a shaky hand.
And stand there stock still with my hand clutching the door. The glow isn’t coming from any screen. It’s coming from Max .
He’s lying on the bed curled into a semi fetal position with his back to the door. The upper half of him is naked and if I wasn’t so worried about him, I would take some time to simply admire the play of muscles under that oddly glowing skin. It’s not super bright or coming from tiny lightbulbs. It seems to be diffused into his flesh somehow.
I tiptoe around the bed and bite back a small smile. He shaved. Or tried to. Scraggly patches of scruff remain, and a spot or two where the razor nicked his skin deep enough to draw blood. Tentatively, I reach out a hand to touch his shoulder. He’s burning up.
Out of nowhere, his other hand grabs mine in a steel grip and he flips me over. And under him.
“Max?” I whisper urgently, but again he makes no reply. Simply burying his face in the crook of my neck. Cautiously, I try to budge him, but he’s like a boulder that’s landed on top of me. I can breathe because his body is angled, pinning me down only with his extremities. I’m more worried for him than afraid. But I can’t help him if I can’t move out of the bed.
“Jenna, my Jenna,” he moans softly, his hands gripping tighter.
I reach one hand up to soothe down his back, surprised to find his skin has cooled several degrees. He’s still warm, but not dangerously hot. I sigh and relax my head back against the pillow. This is different. Not at all what I expected from my evening, but I’m relieved he seems to be feeling slightly better.
Max too seems to relax, his grip loosening slightly but not moving otherwise, so I can’t slide out from under him. A part of me doesn’t want to. There’s a comfort in being this close to him, even if he isn’t conscious.
I jump slightly when his hand moves to palm my breast. He squeezes gently, and my pussy floods with need. Awkward if he was aware of what he was doing. But clearly he’s not.
“Mine. Jenna,” he mumbles, making me reassess that statement. Does he mean it? I mean, deep down. I know he’s not truly coherent right now. I fall asleep trying to puzzle that out with Max draped over me, his lips nuzzling my neck while his hand continues to fondle my breast without direction or urgency. A bit like a toddler with their favorite blankie , I think to myself wryly.
The humor fades quickly from my mind when I open my eyes in the morning to meet the cool blue anger in Max’s.
He’s no longer on top of me, so I scoot backwards until I can sit upright without bumping his tense jaw.
“What the fuck did you do, Jenna?” he rasps, making my insides quiver.
“I came to check on you,” I respond quietly and without apology.
He sits up and turns his back to me, bowing his head into his hands. “Or you did exactly what your boss told you to do.”
The accusation hangs awkwardly in the air between us. I’m baffled and also strangely hurt. He was the one holding me captive through the night. All I did was open a locked door. I close my eyes and will the impeding tears away. They won’t help anything. And with my luck, Max will accuse me of using them to win him over. To what end, I’m still not sure.
“I’m confused,” I finally admit into the silence.
Max groans. Eventually, he answers me with, “I’m aware of that. Just how innocent are you, Jenna?” He stands and walks towards the bathroom without ever turning his head, so I’m guessing he’s not truly expecting an answer.
When he shuts the door, I bolt. Racing down the stairs and back to my own little room. I feel slightly better when I’m showered and dressed. But not enough to face Max over breakfast coffee. And I still haven’t decided what to do about Diana. Her presence here seems to be growing larger with time, not diminishing with distance.
I mentally turn over and examine all my options as I head to Max’s office. I’ll get breakfast when I’m sure he’s out of the way, which will hopefully give him enough time to calm down. I can return to New York and face Diana’s manipulations directly over either winning Max back or ‘placating’ other male authors. Although why I’m specifying gender I’m not sure — I have a feeling Diana goes with whatever she thinks will work. And I’m not so na?ve to think that every author out there has Max’s scruples when it comes to these things.
Fingering the spot on my neck he nuzzled throughout the night, I know he’s the only man I’m interested in pursuing that with. Too bad he’s already decided otherwise, but I don’t suppose I can blame him, really.
Or has he? The thought flits through my brain as I settle down in front of the computer. He’s questioned my loyalty, my interest in remaining here, but offered nothing. Is he waiting for me to do or say something?
I quiver with anxiety. I don’t have a car, so a job out here is frankly impractical. But I do have a cat back in New York that I can’t abandon.
Instead of editing like I should be, I pull a legal pad closer to me and begin to write down all the impediments and questions swirling in my brain.
I need my things (and my cat!) in New York
I need a job
If the job requires transportation, I need that too
I need a place to live if I’m not staying in New York
— which I can’t if I quit because Diana will see to it that anyone hiring me in publishing will put that someone on her shit list.
That’s really it. I can’t think of anything else that counts as a necessity. Righteous indignation fills me as I stride towards the kitchen, somehow knowing that Max is there glowering.
Well, okay, he’s staring out the kitchen window where the wind is blowing the fallen leaves in all directions, but his facial muscles tense when he turns and sees me. I push the paper against his chest before turning to the coffeepot. “Here. If you’ve got nothing better to do, solve this. I don’t know what you want from me besides editing, if anything, but these are my problems and, quite frankly, they’re more important to me than yours at the moment.”
His gorgeous lips quirk slightly, but he doesn’t say anything before glancing down at my list. His eyebrows wing up. “This is it? Everything? Then why haven’t you quit already?”
I roll my eyes as I slide bread into the toaster. “Some of us aren’t made of money, Mr. Famous Author. If I quit now, Diana won’t pay for my return trip to New York.”
Max appears almost startled. “And if your cat and belongings were to come here…”
I shrug as I butter my toast. “Then I still need to solve the job and transportation problem.”
He nods absently. “Finish editing. I’ll have your things, including your cat, here by the end of the week.”
It’s my turn to be surprised. “Okaaay, but… if I’m not there to point and box things up…”
He shakes his head slightly. “I have a very resourceful friend. If by chance he brings an erroneous item, I will simply have him return it and vice versa.”
I blink. That must be some friend or he really owes Max big. “About the glowing blue thing,” I start, but then hesitate.
Max sighs impatiently. “Finish the manuscript, Jenna. Then I will answer your questions.”
“Promise?” I sound like a love-sick little girl.
He must think so too, because he gives me a curt nod and stalks from the kitchen.
I take my toast and coffee back to the office, somehow feeling like Max will come up with an answer. The story is reaching its climax now. The young boy, now a man, is wrestling with his feelings for a young woman who is unaware of his origins. He knows he doesn’t want to risk children inheriting his manipulated genetics, but he doesn’t want to impose that restriction on her otherwise normal life. Nor is he convinced that she has feelings for him.
I flip over to the next page and realize I’ve reached the end of the stack that Max gave me. That can’t be it. That can’t be the end!
Without even considering my actions, I spring up and go on the hunt for Max. I finally find him in that funny back room with the reading chair. The light is on against the early gloom and he’s glowing faintly with that same blue-white light I observed last night. He’s reading some old tome or other. I park myself at his side so I can lean in and glare at him. “Where’s the rest of it? He’d better be telling her how he feels or I’m going to make you re-write it again,” I threaten with full editorial ire.
Max blinks, then scans my face. With lightning speed, he pulls me down on his lap and seals his lips over mine.
My gasp of surprise is all the opening he needs. He seizes the opportunity to thrust his tongue between my teeth. My hands clutch his shoulders to keep from falling, although something is telling me even that won’t be enough to regain my equilibrium. Finally, he releases me, only to pull me tighter against his chest.
“Max?” I quaver, wondering whether the whole world has gone crazy or just my little corner of it.
“Max? I’m confused,” I state again directly into his cotton-covered chest.
There’s an inquiring rumble beneath my ear, but he doesn’t bother to form words or to release me sufficiently to evaluate his expression.
“You obviously wrote that before I arrived, so while I can guess the main character is you, there’s no way I’m Ella. And you alternate growling at me and hugging me. And then there’s that kiss… anyone would be confused.”
Finally he speaks. “It has to be completely your decision, Jenna. And from your heart. Not because of your job or your sympathies.”
“You think I feel sorry for you?” My voice rises to a startled squeak, and I push back hard enough for Max to loosen his grip. I stare into his stern face. “You are a world-famous author. You have all this house and woods to yourself. You certainly don’t need five roommates just to keep a roof over your head.”
He has the grace to wince. “But do you want me ?” I don’t think he meant to say it. The startled look on his face tells me he desperately wants to claw the words back.
Max averts his gaze while I take my time, tracing every line of his face with my eyes. The small bump on the bridge of his nose, the high cheekbones, the elegant arch of his eyebrows.
“Yes, I do. I have for months. But I won’t be your temporary fling just because you finished a book and want to celebrate.”
He both growls and laughs. “And I won’t be the older man who uses power and influence to bind you to me. So I guess we’re both in agreement and at an impasse.”
I mull over his words, trying to find the hidden meaning. I think I understand. He’s worried my feelings aren’t mature and voluntary, that they might fade quickly in a different environment, and I’m worried that he has feelings at all.
“So what do we do?”
He sighs. “We wait. Until you quit your job, and my relationship with Rudnam is at an end.”
“And then what?” I press him for more because that sounds too ambiguous and will have me crawling out of my skin.
“And then we explore this connection between us. I need to know that this is what you want, Jenna. So once you’re free of your entanglements, it will be up to you to set the pace. You want to know my secrets? When you come to me and offer up your own orgasm, I will tell you one story from my past. Sleep with me in my bed and I will allow you to explore my body. But I won’t be fucking you until you know everything and have had a chance to reflect.”
His even tone tells me he’s thought about this for a long time and is dead serious. I pick at one of his shirt buttons, frowning in concentration. “It sounds awfully transactional,” I mutter.
Max snorts softly. “Believe me, if I did what I want to do, you would never leave this house again. You’d be too sore and exhausted. This way is better for you. It allows you to back out with minimal consequences.”
He’s putting me first, I realize, and fall a little bit more in love with him on the spot. If I decided to leave in a month, I’d have a story of might-have-beens and Max would be here… all alone. Just like before.
“If you already had these feelings for me, why didn’t you want me to come?”
He shrugs. “I was afraid. Afraid you’d be too perfect. Afraid the Jenna I saw was just an illusion. Sometimes it’s easier to simply enjoy the dream.”
I hmmph at that. Maybe easier for him. But it’s obvious to me that he’s not going to waver from this plan of his. At least not until I can loosen him up a little. “Well, if that’s the case, then where’s the rest of this manuscript so I can get it done?”
His lips twitch and he reaches to pull out a small drawer in the side table next to his chair. He hands me a fresh stack of notepads, significantly shorter than the first, thank God.
“I wanted to see your honest reaction to the book up to that big decision point. You didn’t disappoint me, sweet girl. Your response gives me the patience to wait for you. Now, back to work, Jenna.” He drops one soft kiss on my forehead and then lifts me off his lap.
Max quirks one eyebrow and then stands. “Go on, that manuscript won’t edit itself.” He tugs me out of his little snug and towards the front of the house. But when we reach the entry, he pushes me gently down the hall towards the office.
The rest of the day passes with me mostly in my happy place, reading a new manuscript and imagining how much better it will be when I’ve addressed all the little issues.
It’s not until the next day, however, that I am able to pin Max down to review some of these changes.
“I don’t care, Jenna. Do whatever you think is best and will take the least amount of time,” he practically snarls.
I gape at him. Maxim Behr giving his editor free rein? Never going to happen so he must be hiding something. I’m just opening my mouth to accuse him of this when there’s a firm knock on the front door.
Max pauses briefly as if considering whether to ignoring it. “Stay here and finish it up, Jenna. The sooner the better.” Finally he turns on his heel and saunters from the room. Whoever is on the other side of the front door must be beyond confused by now. And why doesn’t Max want me to see who it is?