Chapter 13
Max watched as the proud, fiery woman he admired faltered before him.
Just moments ago, Lexie had stood defiant, her head held high despite the absurd pink satin dress and the oversized jacket Jacob had draped over her shoulders.
Even then, she had looked regal, unshakable.
But now, her lips trembled, her chin wobbled, and the fierce light in her eyes dimmed.
It was like watching a fortress crumble from within, and Max’s chest tightened at the sight. His beautiful, indomitable Lexie was unraveling right before his eyes, and it was unacceptable. He leaned forward slightly, his voice rougher than he intended as he barked, “What happened?”
She swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the floor. “He has… videos,” she whispered, her voice breaking. The words were choked with a mix of shame and anger, and Max’s sharp eyes immediately picked up on the slight tremor in her frame.
“Where?” he demanded.
She pulled the edges of the jacket closed as if she could shield herself from the humiliation of the admission. “On his phone,” she said softly. “But I don’t know if he downloaded them to a computer or…” She stopped, swallowing hard before continuing. “Or if he uploaded them to the internet yet.”
A single tear escaped, sliding down her cheek, and Max felt a white-hot surge of rage. His fingers curled into the edge of his desk, the wood creaking under the pressure.
“What kind of videos?” he asked, though the question tasted bitter in his mouth. He didn’t want to know. But he needed to.
“Of me,” she admitted, her voice trembling before she forced herself to lift her chin, anger flaring just enough to momentarily overpower the shame.
“Naked. Showering, sleeping,” she said, then hesitated.
“Doing…” She stopped, sucking in a shaky breath.
“They’re of me, Max. That bastard took videos of me.
Intimate videos. He snuck into my house and hid cameras in my bathroom and bedroom.
He has several videos of me in… intimate detail. ”
The fury simmering in Max boiled over at her words, and his imagination betrayed him with flashes of Lexie—his Lexie—exposed and vulnerable.
His jaw clenched as the image of her entwined with another man tried to take root.
He knew she was a passionate woman, deeply feminine and sensual in every way.
Though they’d never gone all the way, he’d touched her, explored her body in ways that brought her pleasure and left him wanting more.
The idea of her intimate moments being stolen—recorded for someone else’s sick amusement—made his blood feel like molten steel coursing through his veins.
“Fine,” he snapped, the word coming out harsher than intended as he pushed away from the desk. He stood, towering over her, his shadow falling across her as he locked eyes with her.
“But if I fix this for you,” he said quietly, “I will need something from you in return.”
Lexie’s head snapped up, her watery eyes narrowing with suspicion. “What’s that?” she asked, her voice hoarse but laced with defiance.
“You,” he said simply. No elaboration, no negotiation. The meaning was clear in his tone and the intensity of his gaze. He saw the flicker of understanding in her eyes, followed by hesitation.
“I won’t give up my job,” she said, even as she wiped angrily at her cheek.
Her defiance both irritated and intrigued him. As much as it grated on him, Max admired her resilience, her determination to hold on to the independence she valued so much. He considered her for a moment before giving a curt nod. “Fine,” he agreed.
Without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, his steps measured and heavy with purpose.
Fury roiled within him, not just at the thought of what Enzo had done but at the fact that Lexie had been forced to endure it alone.
That would end tonight. Enzo wouldn’t just pay for what he’d done—he’d serve as an example to anyone else foolish enough to think they could touch what belonged to Max.
And Lexie? She might not realize it yet, but she was his now. Fully, irrevocably, and no one—not Enzo, not her pride, not even her job—could change that.