Chapter 19 #3
“Are you really?” she teases, her tone light as a cheeky spark flickers in her eyes. He once told her he doesn’t care for insincere apologies, but she’s starting to realize Max doesn’t always follow his own rules.
“No, not really. How do you even balance on these tiny feet?” he asks, sitting up and cradling her foot like it’s some exotic discovery.
“They’re not tiny. They’re proportional. You’re just… freakishly oversized.”
“Freakishly?”
“Yeah. Like, I’m pretty sure the air gets thinner when you walk into a room. I almost passed out the first few times I saw you.”
“Oh, so it wasn’t because you found me irresistibly attractive? What did you say I was again? Cute?”
“Definitely not. I can’t be held accountable for what I said while my brain was oxygen-deprived.”
“You’re pretty amazing then… being able to take on something so big.”
His hand slides up her leg until it reaches the apex between her thighs.
“Stop…” she says.
“You’re sure you want me to stop?”
She bites down on her lip. “No…”
“No, you’re not sure?”
“Don’t… stop. Keep going.”
“You’re insatiable,” he murmurs, leaning in to peck her lips. “I can’t believe you’re not satisfied yet. I’m old, you know. You make me feel like an overused sex toy.”
“What?” she exclaims, her face flushing deep red.
“I’ll take you to the bath. We can wash up together. Come on.”
She lets him lift her gently, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carries her to the adjoining bathroom.
“How can we fuck all day and night on an island then?” she grumbles, much to his amusement.
He sets her down once they’re in the shower. She watches as he turns away to start the water, studying the subtle shifts and contours of the muscles in his back as he moves.
In the short time they’ve been together, she’s already figured out his daily routine.
Each morning, without fail, he rises long before she does and follows a strict workout regimen.
Even though he brought her overseas to be with him, she only sees him when he returns home late from the office, even on weekends.
His discipline and restraint border on obsessive, except that he’s agreed to be “chill” for their last weekend in London.
She reaches forward and, with a feather-light touch, slowly traces a line down his spine, feeling his back instantly stiffen beneath her finger. He turns around after adjusting the water settings so they’re enveloped in gentle sprays of warmth and eyes her curiously.
“Hands off unless you’re planning on buying,” he says in a low, husky voice, seizing her wrist and pulling her into his chest.
“Don’t you think that’s a little late?” she asks playfully, pressing her cheek against his chest and savoring the heat radiating from his skin. “Plus, you said I could never afford you.”
“Did I?” he murmurs, petting her hair.
She closes her eyes, melting into the tender moment. For the past week, he’s been so sweet and gentlemanly that any nervousness she once felt in his presence has been buried deep, leaving her blissful. The gifts, the attention, the affection—everything feels so perfect.
If this is what it means to be Max’s girlfriend, even in a brief contractual relationship, she’s completely sold. After all, she’ll only be his for about two more weeks. Claire was right. She should just enjoy it.
In the shower, he helps her wash her hair, marveling at its softness and length. Despite her initial protest, she allows him to lather and massage shampoo into her scalp. Quietly, they wash each other, gently exploring every inch of one another’s bodies as if it’s all new to them.
Her soft touches make his heart twist uncomfortably in his chest. The once-familiar feeling he had buried deep down has resurfaced after so many years, stirring a vulnerability he hates.
But maybe, if it’s her, it’ll be okay to let his walls come down.
After such a wonderful day, he has one remaining gift for her, something so thoughtful he’s certain it’ll knock her off her feet and show how much he likes her.
Eventually, they pry themselves apart, stepping out of the shower to dry off. Wrapped in plush bathrobes, they walk hand in hand to the marble vanity, where he seats her on an upholstered stool and begins gently drying her hair.
“You don’t have to do this,” she protests, but he insists, positioning himself behind her and holding up the whirring blow dryer.
She relents, adjusting the large bathrobe around her small frame as she watches him in the mirror.
His fingers rake softly through her hair, guiding the warm air along her locks.
Soon, drained from the long day, she begins to doze off, the heat cocooning her in a hazy, heavenly warmth while he diligently works.
Once her hair is dry to his satisfaction, he turns off the blow dryer and neatly stows it away. Leaning close, his mouth next to her ear, he whispers, “Don’t fall asleep yet. I have a surprise for you.”
“Really?” she asks, her eyes sparkling with excitement. Each surprise from him so far has been carefully curated just for her—from a traveling watercolor kit that lets her capture her journeys, to shiny accessories and private tours around London. What more could he possibly give her?
He reaches for his phone on the counter and hands it to her. She takes it, looking up at him in confusion.
“Look,” he instructs with an encouraging smile.
Lowering her gaze, she sees the screen unlocked and a paused video displayed. She taps play, then feels the warmth drain from her body.
On the screen is the once-immovable mountain of a man everyone at the club had feared.
Tony sits slumped over, moaning weakly. He’s barely upright, held only by the ropes binding him to a metal chair.
His formidable frame is covered in bloody gashes and bruises.
Each breath is labored; his eyes stare off with a haunting vacancy.
Fuck.
A bloody mouth with missing teeth.
Fresh, jagged slashes crisscross his face and neck.
The video zooms in on his trembling, bloodied fingers. She drops the phone on the counter, heart pounding, unwilling to see more though she knows what’s coming next.
Her hands shake uncontrollably. She buries them deep inside the long sleeves of her oversized bathrobe, fists clenched tight in a futile attempt to stop the trembling.
Terror roots itself deep in her bones. The image of Tony, once a figure of threatening strength, reduced to such a pitiful state, burns itself into her mind.
She draws a ragged breath, trying to steady herself, but fear claws at her throat, choking her.
Max watches her with cold calm, reaching out to rest a hand on her arm like a shadow offering comfort.
“I did this for you,” he says softly. “He deserved worse than a scratched-up car and some slashed tires.”
Somewhere along the way, she made a fatal error…
Stupid Claire…
Stupid me!
How could she ever forget?
He isn’t just unpredictable.
He’s as dangerously unhinged as they come.
Their delightful time together in London had swept her up so completely that she’d somehow forgotten everything that came before.
The blackmail.
The stalking.
The unwanted roses.
The r—
She stops herself from remembering, desperate to forget that night and how merciless he’d been. She screams inwardly for being so easily swayed by material things and for falling for the empty attention and affection of a literal psycho.
But he’s been so gentle. So, so gentle…
He picks up her hairbrush and begins to brush her hair.
“Speechless? Here, I’ll help you… ‘Thank you, Max! You shouldn’t have!’” he says, mimicking her voice in an exaggerated falsetto.
“You really shouldn’t have…”
“It was nothing, really. I told you I’d take care of everything,” he says with a small smile.
“Your ex-manager’s been dodging his lenders and refusing to pay back some serious cash.
I just helped them speed up the process of locating him.
They were so appreciative, they didn’t mind sending me a video. ”
Her fingernails dig into her palms, biting into the flesh as her fists tighten beneath her robe sleeves.
“Are you not happy?” he asks, his tone darkening. His hand, which had been brushing her hair, abruptly stills. “Did I do something wrong?”
“I’m fine! I—I’m just… a little shocked. Sorry, I’m just… overwhelmed,” she stammers nervously.
He places the brush on the counter and crouches to look up at her. His dark eyes are so intense, so smoldering, she has to hold her breath.
“You don’t have to face things alone anymore,” he says with that gentle, easy smile that usually makes her heart leap and somersault in her chest.
She stares into those vast, beautiful eyes, turmoil raging within her. How could she even begin to comprehend the mental gymnastics Max is performing in his twisted mind? He’s punished the very man who helped him set her up that night, the night that now feels like a lifetime ago.
I did say Tony deserved worse, she admits silently. Two wrongs don’t make a right, but she’d only defaced his car.
Now that the shock is fading, she realizes she feels no pity for Tony.
“...Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he says with a bright smile. “Whatever you want, you can always just ask me. And I mean anything.”
She studies him, her expression soft but unreadable. “Okay.”
Satisfied, he straightens and resumes brushing her hair.
“We’ll be extending the trip a couple of days,” he adds.
She blinks. “Why?”
“It’s my birthday on Monday. I want to celebrate it here—with you. We’ll head back Tuesday morning, if that’s all right.”
“Oh... yes. Happy early birthday.”