Chapter Nine
Quinn lay on her back, panting, as reality started to seep in.
Oh ... my ... god... What had she done? She had just slept with her boss.
Well, no, not slept. Sex. She just had sex with her boss.
Sex. With Max. Mind-blowing, out-of-this-world, unbelievable sex.
With Max. Her boss. Oh ... my ... god...
Max rose from the floor, moving to his jeans, heedless of being naked. She watched his ass, the same ass she wanted to bite, as he grabbed his phone and connected the call.
She just had sex with her boss. Like, what clichéd romance novel had she just experienced?
Oh ... my ... god...
She took a steady breath and tried to relax her brain. All right, it had to be the wine. Blame it on the wine. For some reason the alcohol went right to her pleasure center and made her forget decent behavior. Would Max believe the wine excuse?
Oh ... my ... god...
This was a nightmare. She looked again at Max and his back turned as he talked to whomever was on the other side of the call.
She just had sex with her boss. What was she supposed to do now?
Quinn grabbed her clothes. The first thing she wasn’t going to do was lie there naked.
She stood, ignoring the delicious feeling of her body in spent languor, and hurriedly dressed.
The wetness between her thighs she would deal with when she got to her room.
Not looking at Max as he continued on the phone, she rushed out of the den to her bedroom.
In the bath, she tossed her clothes into the corner and turned the shower up on hot.
If there was ever a time she needed introspection, now was that time.
Things were different now, forever changed.
It would kill her if he had to start avoiding her, or worse, feel the need to fire her.
Her job was important to her. Even if they were able to move past this, she doubted she’d be able to forget.
How could she possibly work with him now?
What could she say to him? Certainly nothing about what had happened, although it had been one of the most awesome, toe-curling moments of her life.
The sex had been amazing, and she had a sneaky suspicion that he’d ruined all men for her in the future. How could they even compare?
The shower had settled her somewhat and she donned her pajamas before settling into bed. Her body was tired, but her mind raced. A knock sounded at the door. Quinn took a deep breath and told him to enter.
The door swung open and the hall light bathed him in shadow as he crossed his arms and leaned in the doorway.
“We should talk about what happened.”
“Um, now?”
“It doesn’t have to be now, but soon.” He studied her for a moment. “You assured me you were okay with this.”
“I know what happened." She held up a hand, halting him. “I know, Max. But I need time to digest it all.”
“Are you ashamed?” he demanded.
“Yes,” she instantly replied, then raised a hand to squeeze the bridge of her nose. “No.” She groaned. “I’m confused. We breached a protocol that’s strictly taboo. You’re my boss, for heaven’s sake! I don’t want you to fire me.”
“Is that what you thought I’d do? Slam, bam, thank you, ma’am, now get the hell out?” He made a reproachful sound between his teeth.
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to act,” she whispered. “I-I’ve never done this before.”
“Act like Quinn. This changes nothing between us.”
“What happens when you get tired of me?”
“Why do you think I’ll get tired of you?”
“Because everyone else has,” she admitted. “It must be me. The common denominator. Right? I’m not good enough. Not skinny enough. Or beautiful enough. Even you-know-who got tired of dating me because I wasn’t fun anymore.”
“Quinn—”
“I guess you’re right. Love doesn’t exist. Or it doesn’t last. So, I need to know what happens when you grow bored. Are you going to fire me?”
“I swear to you, right here and now, you’ll always have a job. No matter what happens in the future.”
She searched his eyes for any sign of deception but found none. This was Max, after all. She’d never met a more direct, honest person in her life.
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“I have to go out.”
“Business this late? Are you even safe to drive? You drank, too.”
“Not that much and I did just work up a sweat to burn it off.”
He winked and heat engulfed her face. She had been granted a temporary reprieve on how to deal with the new situation between them. “Okay.”
He straightened. “Good night, Quinn.”
“Good night.”
Max closed the door, plunging her into darkness. She wondered why he was leaving so late. Seemed unlikely he was meeting with a client, so what the hell? Maybe he was meeting up with another woman. So much for being truthful.
****
Max tried to push aside the thoughts about what happened between him and Quinn, but the entire time he drove to his factory, he couldn’t shake them.
Sex with her had been ... phenomenal. He couldn’t think of a single woman who compared to her.
When he was interviewing her for the position, there had existed an almost magnetic pull towards her, but he’d ignored it.
First, because he was the boss. Second, she knew nothing about the world he came from.
His previous assistant, who had been a man, had discovered Max’s ties to the La Famille Lemaire and had tried to extort him.
That assistant had an unfortunate car “accident” that ended his life, and left Max with a position to fill.
He wanted someone without any ties to any mafia family in order to be a legitimate face for the gallery.
Quinn had all the credentials for the job, but she drew him like a moth to a flame, and he’d gone with his instinct to hire her.
She handled all the paperwork side of the honest business while he discovered the “art.”
For the past year, he hid his attraction to her.
Or, at least tried to. But seeing her with a black eye had pushed him over the top.
Now, there was no going back, except she had no idea her life had just changed.
His loyalty was to his Ca?d, his boss. Gaston Lemaire was fair but ruthless.
Max had grown up a skinny kid on the Paris streets, pickpocketing the tourists, and one day he’d tried to lift Gaston’s wallet only to come face to face with a nine mil.
Instead of killing him, however, Gaston had offered him a chance.
Pick a thousand dollars in twenty-four hours and he’d allow Max to be a jeune soldat, one of his young soldiers.
It was a proposition he couldn’t refuse.
Shaking off the memories of his youth, he parked near the door of the manufacturing plant he owned. He made sure all his men were in their places before buttoning up his suit coat to enter. A man sat tied up in a chair, with a defiant jut to his chin. Another Voclain shitbag.
“Sinclair found this guy and decided to send him as a token of his appreciation,” one of his men reported.
Max nodded that he understood. This was a thank you for discovering the blow in the Trojan horse. He walked over to the bound man and extracted his butterfly knife, opening the blade to cut the man’s shirt over his heart. No mistaking the V inked on his skin. “Where’s Savage?”
The guy smirked. “Don’t know who you’re talking about.”
“I’m not sure you should be a smart ass at this time.”
In response, the man spat at him, and the spit landed harmlessly on the ground. Max buried the knife in the man’s shoulder, causing him to scream in pain.
“I’ll ask again,” Max said. “Where is Savage?”
Breathing heavily, his captor sneered. “Fuck off.”
Max retracted his knife, only to sink it between his ribs. Not puncturing the heart, but into his lung, causing him to scream again.
“Where is Savage?” Max asked again.
The man wheezed. “Fuck ... you.”
“All right, this is getting us nowhere.” He snapped his fingers. “Hold his head.”
His guy did as told, holding the fuckwad immobile.
“What are you doing? Hey!” Panic had him trying to pull away, but there was nowhere to go. “What are you doing?”
Max stared at him. “Do you know what happens to an eyeball when it’s stabbed?
That’s a rhetorical question, because I bet you don’t.
First, it’s very painful. I mean, I’ve never had my eyeball ripped out of my head, but from the screams I’ve heard, you’re not gonna like it.
Anyway, the next thing that happens is the cornea, that’s the clear part in the front, and the sclera, that’s the white part, tear.
And I don’t mean like an itty-bitty tear.
No, that fucker is going to look like it’s melted.
Next, the fluid inside starts oozing. It’s called vitreous humor, but there’s not one God-damn thing you’re going to laugh at.
You’re going to be blind, in pain, and when you pass out, my guys here will throw piss on you to wake up.
Now, if I were you, I’d start talking and if you tell me what I want to know, you’ll die quickly with both eyeballs intact. ”
The man remained stubbornly silent. Max took his time, bringing the blade close so he could see how sharp it was.
“Last chance.”
Still, nothing.
Without remorse, Max slowly pushed the tip into the eye. Screams reverberated around the manufacturing plant, but he didn’t ease up. Slowly, more of the blade sank into the sclera.
“I’ll tell!” he cried. “I’ll tell!”
Max pulled back, watching blood and the watery fluid-gel pour from the decimated eye. “Where?”
The man suddenly laughed, a harsh almost manic-like sound. “You should’ve protected her better.”
It only took a moment for Max to understand what he meant. His body went cold. Done playing, he thrust the blade into his throat, ending his miserable life.
“Get rid of him,” he barked, flipping his knife closed. He pulled out his cell, noticing he had several missed calls from his security agency for the gallery and a text message from Quinn relaying that the alarm had been tripped. Hurrying back to his car, he called Quinn. “Pick up, damn it.”
Over and over, just like the Bryan situation. Only this time, a true monster was involved.