Chapter 26
Max set the report down on his polished desk, pinching the bridge of his nose as his thoughts strayed for the hundredth time that day.
He hadn’t heard from Lexie since she’d disappeared into her new office, engrossed in grading her students’ essays.
Normally, he’d take pride in a day this productive, but the nagging worry about her gnawed at him.
Had she remembered to eat lunch? Had she taken a break?
And where the hell was the assistant assigned to update her wardrobe?
That purse of hers needed to be replaced yesterday.
Shaking his head, Max refocused on the matters at hand.
The report detailed updates across his vast network of businesses.
Most were thriving, but there were always issues to address.
He’d personally coordinated a catered lunch for the port workers who had clocked overtime to unload and process a late shipment.
His soldiers had reported in, confirming the tone on the streets had calmed for now, though there was talk of a Yakuza cell, a Japanese style gang, attempting to infiltrate his territory.
That would be handled tonight, swiftly and decisively.
Max’s businesses weren’t just about profit—they were about control and stability.
From the bustling ports to the small, family-owned corner stores, everything ran smoothly under his watchful eye.
Small businesses, in particular, benefited from his protection.
Max made sure they received the same level of service and security as the large corporations under his umbrella.
That balance kept his territory thriving and earned him respect across all levels of society.
Then there was his meeting tomorrow with the police commissioner.
Commissioner Calloway was an ally, though a pragmatic one.
Their relationship was built on mutual benefits—Calloway turned a blind eye to the tightly controlled drug trade Max allowed, in exchange for Max ensuring the streets remained orderly and free of chaos.
Max’s system kept the more dangerous substances out of circulation and weeded out the brutish, corrupt officers who tended to abuse their power.
Calloway valued the order Max brought to the streets, even if his methods were unconventional.
Their arrangement also allowed Max to tip the scales when necessary, ensuring that the people in his territory—whether they ran a mom-and-pop shop or a high-end restaurant—were treated fairly by law enforcement.
Tomorrow’s meeting would likely cover the usual topics: enforcement priorities, updates on problematic officers, and the current political climate.
Max also had other matters to discuss—like ensuring that the small businesses under his protection weren’t harassed during the commissioner’s latest push for increased oversight.
Not everyone plays fair, Max thought grimly. It was his job to make sure they did.
And then there were the gubernatorial candidates.
Max had two meetings lined up tomorrow afternoon with hopefuls vying for his support.
They both had potential, but Max was meticulous in choosing who he’d back.
Political power wasn’t just about the individual—it was about the network they could build, the policies they’d enforce, and the loyalty they’d show.
Max didn’t just want influence over the state; he wanted someone in office who would strengthen his system of stability and order, and fight the rampant corporate greed that seemed to pervade business lately.
But as much as these strategic challenges usually energized him, his focus kept returning to Lexie.
He grabbed his phone and sent a quick text to the assistant handling her wardrobe.
Priority: find Lexie a proper bag. It wasn’t just about appearances—it was about her having something worthy of who she was. And she deserved the best.
Sitting back, Max sighed and glanced at the clock. He could control his businesses, his soldiers, even the political landscape. But Lexie? She was the one thing he couldn’t dictate. And it was driving him nuts.
Max strode down the hallway, his thoughts a mix of anticipation and purpose.
Lexie deserved only the best, and he would ensure she had it.
Everything about her captivated him—the way she focused so intensely on her work, the stubborn set of her jaw when she argued with him, and the fire in her eyes when she held her ground.
She was a contradiction: delicate yet fiercely independent. It only made him want her more.
When they married, he’d see to it that she left the exhausting world of teaching behind.
Not because he thought she couldn’t handle it—far from it—but because he wanted her to enjoy the kind of life she deserved.
She should have time to relax, to pursue her interests, to feel cherished.
And selfishly, he wanted more of her attention.
The thought of their future together filled him with a heady mix of desire and excitement.
Max couldn’t stop his thoughts from wandering to how he’d explore every inch of her, savor every moment.
He still hadn’t gotten to taste her properly, and the mere thought made his body tighten.
The fact that they’d been so frantic the last time, so consumed by their need for each other, only heightened his anticipation.
And then there was the possibility of children. He wanted them—desperately. The idea of Lexie already being pregnant sent a thrill through him. A family. Their family. It was a legacy he hadn’t thought much about until Lexie had come sneaking back into his life. Now, it felt inevitable. Necessary.
Max paused in the office doorway, his eyes softening at the sight of her. Lexie sat cross-legged in the oversized chair, a purple pen in hand that she twirled absently between her fingers. Her focus was entirely on the stack of essays in front of her.
Glancing at his watch, Max frowned. She’d been at it for five hours. The pile of graded essays on one side of her was only half the size of the ungraded stack on the other. He felt a pang of irritation—not at her, but at the situation. Lexie worked so damn hard for so little.
He thought of the bank account he’d set up for her earlier that day, as well as the credit cards that would arrive tomorrow. She didn’t know about them yet, but she would. Teachers were criminally underpaid, and Lexie deserved more than the system gave her.
And yes, it was ironic coming from him—a man who wielded power over businesses, politicians, and even the police commissioner.
But Max believed in fairness. He ensured the small businesses in his territory received the same protection as the corporations.
He weeded out corruption within the police force, rooting out officers who abused their power or accepted bribes that hurt the community.
And while he allowed a controlled drug trade, it was strictly regulated—no truly dangerous substances, no predatory behavior, and absolutely no deliberate harm to innocents.
His system wasn’t perfect, but it was better than the chaos that would reign without his control. He enforced order with an iron will, not because he craved power for its own sake, but because someone had to ensure the region didn’t crumble.
And now, Lexie was part of that world.
He leaned against the doorframe, his arms folded over his chest as he watched her. The soft glow of the fireplace bathed her in warm light, her brow furrowed in concentration. She was so damn beautiful it almost hurt.
“You’ve been at it for hours,” he said finally, breaking the silence.
Lexie startled, then looked up and smiled faintly. “I’m almost done with this one,” she replied, holding up the essay. “Just a few more to go.”
Max raised an eyebrow. “A few more?” He gestured to the stack still waiting for her attention. “That’s more than a few, Lex.”
She shrugged, her lips twitching in defiance. “It’s part of the job.”
He stepped further into the room, reaching out to tenderly brush a strand of hair from her face. “You work too hard,” he commented, his voice low. “You don’t have to do this alone anymore.”
Her expression softened, but there was still wariness in her eyes. “Max, I love my job. I love helping these kids.”
“And you’re amazing at it,” he agreed, crouching beside her chair so they were eye level. “But you shouldn’t have to sacrifice so much for so little in return. Let me help.”
Lexie hesitated, her fingers tightening around the pen. “You’re already doing so much. The office, the clothes, the food…”
He smiled slightly, brushing his thumb along her cheek. “I’m just getting started.”
Her cheeks flushed, but her eyes didn’t waver from his. “I’m not sure I can get used to this.”
“You will,” he said confidently. “And you’ll have the time and freedom to do whatever you want. Teach if you want to, or don’t. It’s your choice, Lex. But I’m going to make sure you have the best of everything.”
She exhaled, a small smile tugging at her lips. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“I’ve been called worse,” he teased, standing and kissing the top of her head. “Now, finish up. Dinner will be ready soon, and after that…” His voice dropped, rich with promise. “You’re all mine.”
“What are you going to…?” she started to ask, then blushed. “Never mind!”
Max chuckled, a sexy sound that shot tremors of desire through her body. Even her toes were curling with need now.
“I’m going to make dinner. Do you have a preference?” Max asked, his tone casual as he leaned against the doorframe.
Lexie blinked up at him, clearly surprised. “I thought you had a housekeeper to cook for you.”
“Rosa handles breakfast and lunch when I’m home, and she maintains the house along with Lisa and Concheta,” he explained with a faint smile. “She also preps a few meals that I can heat up if I need to. But I actually enjoy cooking—it relaxes me. So, when I’m home, I prefer to do it myself.”
Her brow arched as she tilted her head, clearly trying to reconcile this new information. “You cook?”
“Don’t sound so shocked,” he teased, leaning closer to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “How about pasta Bolognese tonight?”
“That sounds delicious,” she admitted, still sounding a little wary, as if she wasn’t entirely convinced he could pull it off.
“Good,” Max said, glancing at his watch. “I’ll get started on the pasta, but it’ll need to rest for about an hour.”
“Rest?” she echoed, her curiosity piqued.
He straightened, but not before bending down to kiss her softly, his lips lingering just enough to leave her breathless. “I make my pasta from scratch, mia cara.”
She blinked and leaned back in her chair, intrigued. “Like… from eggs and flour?”
“Of course,” he said easily. “While the dough rests, I’ll make the sauce. It needs time to simmer with the right spices.” He winked at her, the playful gesture making her heart skip. “You should know by now, Lexie—I prefer to be an expert at whatever I do.”
Lexie couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at her lips. “Of course you do,” she said, shaking her head. But she couldn’t deny that the thought of Max Diatras, the most powerful man in the Pacific Northwest, rolling out pasta dough by hand was as charming as it was unexpected.