Chapter Forty-Seven Max
Chapter Forty-Seven
Max
“Max, hurry up. I’m about to die of boredom,” Anna calls from the other side of the dressing room door.
After dropping Gemma at the office, I asked Anna to meet me at Harrods to help me select a suit for the hotel launch party. Prying myself away from Gemma was physically painful, but I’m seeing her tonight, and that thought’s the only thing keeping me sane.
I feel as though I’ve neglected Anna lately, and I know she’s going through a tough time. She deserves my attention.
The irony isn’t lost on me—my selfishness toward Gemma is likely going to hurt my sister far more than any absence ever has. But the truth? I don’t have it in me to stop.
I’m beginning to really care about her best friend, far more than I ever intended to.
We’re treating something amazing as if it’s forbidden—shameful. But it’s real. It’s right. And I’m sick of fighting it.
Everything shifted today.
Gemma showed me a part of herself I suspect few have ever witnessed. When those eyes that typically guard everything finally allowed me entry, I was lost entirely.
My wanting Gemma began as pure instinct. It was innate and immediate from the first moment I saw her. But it’s evolved into something far deeper than I ever expected or prepared for.
I hate that when we’re in the office, we’re forced to ignore our desires. The tension between us is so overwhelming, I don’t know if we’re about to fight or fuck—and I want both.
When I told her I wanted to see her—truly see her—I meant it. Throughout my career, I’ve made it my business to read people, to understand and fulfill their needs before they can articulate them. But with Gemma? She’s a language all her own—and I want fluency.
I shrug on the suit jacket, swing open the door, and step up to the wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors.
“You said you were happy to meet me,” I say, adjusting the lapels.
Anna rolls her eyes dramatically. “I am. I love shopping. I just prefer when it’s me you’re spending money on.”
“Hmm.”
Anna stands, striding toward me and pulling at the tag hanging from the jacket sleeve.
“Bloody hell!” she shouts, her eyebrows shooting to her hairline. “Max, this suit is nine-hundred pounds!”
“That’s just the jacket,” I reply, rolling my shoulders to get a feel for the fit.
Just then, the shop assistant reappears, brandishing her tape measure. “Well? What do we think?” Her hopeful gaze darts between Anna and me. “I think that cut looks fabulous on you.”
“I’ll take it,” I state decisively, stepping back from the mirrors.
“Excellent. The tailoring really is exquisite. I’ll just be over by the counter when you’re ready,” she says, pivoting and marching out.
“I love my job, but sometimes I wonder if I’d have been better off getting into accounting,” Anna mutters.
I chuckle. “You couldn’t differentiate between a debit and credit when you went to uni.”
“All right, smart-arse.”
“Your job is fulfilling, and that’s what matters,” I reply, meaning it. Anna’s passion for teaching has always been something I’ve respected.
“Fulfilling doesn’t afford Tom Ford suits,” she says, crossing her arms.
“How are things with you and Mason?” I ask.
Her shoulders tense. “Fine.”
“Ah,” I say. “The word that means that you’re anything but fine.”
She attempts a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes. “It’s just the same. I’m okay.”
“Anna,” I say her name, hoping she’ll divulge more information.
“I don’t want to talk about it, Max.” There’s an edge to her voice that stops me from pressing any further. “I still want a baby. He still doesn’t. It’s that simple.”
I give her a sympathetic smile. “I’m sorry, weasel.” I soften my approach. “You know my door’s always open, right? You have a key to the penthouse—use it anytime. I mean it. Even if it’s three in the morning.”
She nods in acknowledgment. “I know. Thank you.” Her gaze drops to her feet. “April and James are trying for a baby.”
I drop my hands to my sides, stepping toward her. “That must be difficult to hear. How does that make you feel?”
“It is.” Her voice cracks slightly. “I’m happy for them, I really am.
But watching your best friend get everything you desperately want while your husband won’t even discuss it anymore…
” She trails off momentarily. “Mason won’t try therapy.
I asked. He told me last week that if having children is so important to me, then maybe I should reconsider our marriage. ”
I grind my teeth. “He said that to you?”
“Yeah. I love him. I love our life together. But I can’t help but feel that something fundamental is missing. Does that make me selfish?”
“No,” I say instantly, pulling her into a hug. “It doesn’t make you selfish at all. Wanting children isn’t something you can just turn off.”
She melts into my embrace, her shoulders shaking slightly. “I thought he might change his mind. I honestly thought—” She cuts herself off. “What if I wake up in ten years and it’s too late?”
“Anna, you can’t live your life waiting for someone to change their mind.”
She pulls back, watching me intently. “What do you think, Max? Be honest.”
I know all too well what it’s like waiting for someone to change.
You can hope, you can beg, you can scream until your ears bleed—but you can’t make someone choose what you want.
You need to let them make their own decisions.
And if you have to force the person you love into something to find your own happiness, is that really love? Isn’t that just living in bad faith?
“I think you deserve to be with someone who wants the same future you do. Whether it’s Mason or someone else.” I pause, considering my next words carefully. “Ultimately, you’re the only one who can decide what you’re willing to sacrifice.”
“I know you’re right,” she says, letting go of a deep breath.
I squeeze her shoulder. “You deserve a life that feels complete. You’ll work it out, Anna. Just promise me that you’ll live your truth, not someone else’s.”
She shoots me a sad smile. “I promise.” She sniffles. “Thank you for listening.”
“Always.” I wink. “That’s what big brothers are for.”
“Can we talk about something else?” she asks. “I just… I need a break from thinking about it.”
“Of course. Whatever you want.” I nod.
Anna’s holding my phone for me when it starts vibrating in her hand.
“Who is it?” I ask, narrowing my eyes to read the screen.
Her gaze darts to mine. “Unknown number.”
I grit my teeth hard. I’ve been receiving these calls more frequently, always from an unlisted number. I think I know who it is, and it’s beginning to unsettle me.
“Just ignore it,” I instruct, slipping inside the dressing room to change.
When I emerge, Anna’s complexion has paled.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, though I already know.
She holds my phone out to me. “It’s Casey.”
I take the phone. The message glows on the screen.
My stomach drops as soon as I read the message.
I know you’re back in London.
“How the hell did she find out?” I growl.
Anna shakes her head, her expression troubled. “I’m not sure. I haven’t posted anything on social media.” Her mouth twists as she thinks. “Could she have read something about the Gray Hotel opening?”
I lift my brows, considering. “I doubt it. Grayson is the face of the hotel—my involvement wouldn’t have been mentioned. I’m nobody to the public. Any press coverage would feature his name, not mine.” I pinch the bridge of my nose. “I don’t have the energy for this.”
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “How about we get a drink from the champagne bar downstairs?”
She stares at me, her face unreadable.
“My treat,” I add.
Her eyes light up instantly. “Deal.”