Chapter 27
“This is pointless!” Lexie grumbled, snapping the cap onto her purple pen with more force than necessary.
She tossed it onto the stack of essays, leaning back in the plush chair and frowning toward the door.
Max had left about an hour earlier, leaving her to her work, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t focus.
Her thoughts kept drifting to the image of Max in the kitchen. Is he really making everything from scratch? It was difficult to reconcile the idea of Max—the calculating, powerful man who ran the Northwest—with a domestic version of him covered in flour.
Finally, she gave up, stretching her tight muscles as she stood.
Abandoning the essays, Lexie wandered down the long hallway, trying to retrace her steps to the kitchen.
She got turned around once and found herself in a room filled with antique clocks ticking away in perfect harmony.
It was eerie and fascinating, but she shook herself out of her distraction and kept going until she finally caught the faint sound of movement.
When she stepped into the kitchen, she froze. The sight of Max stopped her breath.
He stood at the center island, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing muscular forearms liberally dusted with flour.
He wore a black apron, also well smeared with flour, tied snugly around his waist. His hands were buried in a ball of dough, the strong, precise movements of his fingers and palms kneading the mixture with expert ease.
Every so often, he slapped the dough onto the floured counter with a satisfying thwap before folding it over and starting again.
For a moment, Lexie was too stunned to speak.
There was something oddly mesmerizing about watching him work—his hands manipulating the dough with a blend of strength and finesse.
It wasn’t just cooking; it was control, precision, and confidence, all of which seemed to radiate from him as naturally as breathing.
It took her a moment to notice the faint blue glow of an earpiece in his ear. He was talking to someone on the phone while he worked, his deep voice calm but commanding.
“Until John agrees to stop price gouging his customers, the port fees will continue to rise,” Max said, his tone hard and unwavering.
Lexie blinked, fascinated by his words. “He’s using the factories in Thailand to lower his production costs, which is fine.
But he can’t come back and spout inflation nonsense to justify padding his profit margins. ”
There was a pause as Max listened to the response on the other end of the line. His jaw tightened slightly, a flicker of impatience crossing his face. Then he spoke again, his voice growing downright cold. “Double the fees next month if he tries to feed you that load of crap again.”
Lexie’s stomach flipped as she listened. It wasn’t just what he was saying—it was the authority with which he said it. She’d known Max was incredibly powerful, but this? This was something entirely different. He wasn’t just a man with influence; he was a man who made the rules.
She remained rooted to the spot, torn between fascination and unease.
He moved so effortlessly between kneading dough and dictating terms that could alter the financial course of someone’s business.
It was a startling reminder of who he really was—someone who didn’t just thrive in his world of power and influence, but controlled it.
“Nope. Thermopolis won’t do.” Max’s voice was firm, cutting through the quiet kitchen.
Lexie stepped into the kitchen and slid onto an island stool, nibbling on a berry from the bowl Max pushed in front of her, her curiosity piqued. She remembered seeing George Thermopolis at the party, all polished smiles and sleazy handshakes.
Another long pause followed, and then Max continued, his tone steady but carrying an unmistakable authority. “Because he’s sleeping with prostitutes without his wife’s knowledge, and he bought a hundred thousand dollars’ worth of MetroTech stock last week.”
Lexie’s brow furrowed. Buying stock disqualifies him from the governor’s race? The answer came almost immediately as Max added, “Because he’s advocating for a new subway system. MetroTech wants the state contract.”
Lexie blinked in surprise, her appetite momentarily forgotten. Insider trading? The man was a criminal!
So, that’s how it works. She’d truly liked Thermopolis—he had seemed genuine, passionate even, about social issues and lean government, efficiency and common sense policies.
But now she was hearing the truth: Thermopolis wasn’t just a hypocrite, but someone trying to profit off his potential role as governor.
The disappointment stung. Were there any ethical political candidates left?
Max continued his call, shifting seamlessly to another topic.
“That’s because a Yakuza gang is trying to push into Tacoma.
We’ll handle it. No direct confrontation unless necessary.
” There was a pause before he added, “And no, I’m not meeting with him.
” His tone darkened slightly as he listened to the response, but when he spoke again, it was calm.
“Yes, I’ll speak with Calloway tomorrow. Tell him to bring the files.”
Lexie’s ears perked up. She recognized the name of the chief of police for Seattle. Why would he be asking Max for help? she wondered, a tangle of fascination and unease settling in her chest.
It was becoming clear that Max wasn’t just a criminal kingpin—he was a power broker, someone whose influence extended far beyond his so-called “family business.” The people coming to him weren’t petty criminals; they were politicians, police officials, and international players.
And they weren’t coming to challenge him—they were asking for his help and support.
Lexie sat back, her mind racing. Wasn’t Max a criminal? Wasn’t he the head of some shadowy empire that people whispered about but never openly acknowledged? But if that was true, why did it feel like he was the one holding everything together, ensuring order where chaos might otherwise reign?
Her gaze shifted to Max, his broad shoulders tense as he ended the call with a decisive “Handle it.” He looked up then.
For a moment, his intense gaze softened, and a small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
A moment later, he ended the call with a simple tap of his finger to the earpiece.
Then he placed the device into a small, carved box.
“Learning something new about me, mia cara?” he asked, his deep voice cutting through her thoughts.
Lexie swallowed hard, unsure how to respond. All she could do was nod, her thoughts swirling with more questions than answers about the man she’d thought she knew.
“What’s that for?” Lexie asked, nodding toward the box, trying to keep her tone casual despite the sudden heat in the air.
“It ensures the earpiece can’t be hacked and used as a listening device,” Max explained, his voice calm but his eyes anything but. He started toward her, the gleam in his gaze making her pulse quicken.
Lexie leaned back slightly, her fingers tightening on the edge of the counter. “Paranoid much?”
“Being cautious isn’t the same as paranoia,” he replied smoothly, coming to a stop just inches from where she sat. His gaze dropped to her lips, and she swallowed hard, her breath hitching as his voice dropped to a growl. “You need to choose a wedding dress, Lexie.”
“No marriage,” she shot back, her voice more breathless than she would have preferred, though she leaned forward slightly, as if drawn to him against her will.
His eyes flared, a mix of challenge and heat lighting them up as he leaned in even closer. “Seven days,” he countered, his lips brushing hers with each syllable.
Lexie shook her head, forcing herself to sit straighter, even as her resolve wavered. “Seven days in your bed. No marriage.”
Max’s jaw tightened, and she could practically see him biting back his immediate response. No doubt, he wanted to bark an order or deliver a decree. That’s who he was—commanding, authoritative, relentless. But Lexie wasn’t about to back down, not now.
He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning back slightly as though to assess her position. “Marriage in seven days,” he said, his tone deliberate, as if daring her to argue. “And you quit your job so I can take care of you.”
Lexie let out an incredulous laugh, shaking her head. “You do realize that’s the opposite of a compromise, right? That’s just more orders.”
“It’s practical,” Max countered, his brow arching as though he were explaining simple math. “You wouldn’t need to grade essays all afternoon, and you could focus on the things that make you happy.”
“My job makes me happy,” she shot back, her hands gesturing wildly. “You know, helping teenagers figure out how to structure a thesis or discover the symbolism in The Great Gatsby? That’s important work.”
He tilted his head slightly, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. “And I suppose you’ll argue that teaching is more fulfilling than spending your days lounging by a pool or indulging in shopping trips?”
“Absolutely!” she said, though she had to fight not to laugh at his skeptical expression.
Max leaned closer again, his voice dropping to a teasing rumble. “What if I told you I could fund scholarships for those kids? Build new libraries? Would that be enough for you to reconsider?”
Lexie frowned, thrown off by the offer. “Are you bribing me with better education systems?”
“Is it working?” he asked, his smirk widening.
She pointed a finger at his chest, fighting to maintain her composure despite the distracting heat in his gaze. “You can’t just buy my career out from under me.”
Max caught her hand, pressing a kiss to her palm that sent shivers down her spine. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly. “I’ll just make it impossible for you to resist my alternative.”
Lexie stared at him, torn between exasperation and amusement. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Like I said earlier, I’ve been called worse,” Max replied, his voice filled with mock humility. “Now, about that wedding dress…”
Lexie groaned, rolling her eyes. “You never give up, do you?”
“Not when it comes to you,” he said, his voice firm and low. And despite herself, Lexie couldn’t help the faint smile that tugged at her lips.
She smiled, then decided to take charge.
Instead of waiting for him to kiss her, Lexie put one hand on the marble island and another on the back of the stool, then pushed up on the stool bar so that her lips could reach his.
But she didn’t kiss him. Instead, she nibbled on his lower lip, then licked the top one and pulled back.
Lexie wasn’t alarmed when a fist knotted her hair, twisting the long locks around his fingers. “You will obey me, Lexie,” he replied.
In response, she lifted one hand, sliding it up his inner thigh.
The rough denim cupped his eager manhood.
She grazed her fingers over the zipper, then allowed one finger to dip behind the waistband.
She heard his sharp intake of breath and knew that she’d won this round, but also suspected that the next seven days were going to be an ongoing battle between them.
“Seven days, Max. And I’m keeping my job.” Before he could continue arguing with her, she slid her hand inside his jeans, wrapping her fingers around his shaft. It was awkward at first, but she held onto him while she released the button, then slid the zipper down.
Max didn’t move. He was breathing heavily now, staring at her with desire burning in his dark eyes.
She started to say something else, but his mouth covered hers.
His kiss was hard, deep, and intoxicating, causing Lexie to moan.
Her hand squeezed him, her thumb stroking over the tip, then around the head.
He hissed, sucking in his breath as his hips began to move, thrusting himself into her hand.
Lexie felt powerful, in control. It was heady, controlling this powerful man.
It turned her on and she stood up. But before she could move, Max lifted her into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist as he carried her up the stairs.
She had no idea how he moved so fast, but didn’t really care.
She wrapped her arms around his neck and, with every step, that shaft that she’d so recently been holding, rubbed against her core.
She nipped at his neck as she rolled her hips, wanting more of that rhythmic contact.
Max growled and even that turned her on.
Lexie breathed in the scent of him, enjoying the way he moved, the way he smelled, the sounds he made.
The bedroom door slamming behind them startled her, but only for a moment since she found herself set on the floor, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpeting.
But he only released her so he could strip off her clothes.
When she was completely naked, he picked her up, pressing her back against the wall and… impaled her!