Maxwell (Family Ties #7)

Chapter 1

Chapter One

Maxwell Santana sauntered into NV Lounge, the popular spot his brother-in-law owned.

Converted from an old warehouse and catering to young professionals, it had quickly risen to prominence in the Atlanta night scene—a hybrid of a lounge with a hookah bar and restaurant, and a traditional club with high-energy and a DJ whose music selections kept people on the dance floor.

Pausing inside the entrance, Maxwell let his eyes adjust to the dim interior and allowed the music and noise from the crowd to wash over him. Straight ahead, two back-to-back bars bisected the main space.

He spotted his brother-in-law at the nearest bar, dressed in all black and nodding his head at whatever his female server was saying.

Maxwell strolled over as the young woman walked away. “What’s up?”

“Hey, man!” Andre gave him some dap. “Your friends are already here. They’re waiting for you in the VIP.”

“I had something to take care of.”

“Something or someone?” Andre asked.

Maxwell laughed. “I plead the fifth.”

He had a bit of a reputation among his family members, which wasn’t helped at all when two of the women he was dating ended up at Andre and Monica’s engagement party.

Andre rested a hand on Maxwell’s shoulder as he leaned in. He had a rough-hewn face, and the pale patch of skin slicing through his eyebrow served to increase his tough-guy appearance.

“I think you and your boys should be set, but if you need anything, let me know. I got you.”

“I appreciate it, but I’ll make sure those guys pay for everything they’re supposed to. They got money. I’m the broke one.”

Andre nodded, a faint smile on his lips, probably because he knew the latter part of Maxwell’s statement wasn’t exactly accurate.

True enough, for years his medical residency had been his entire life—running on fumes from barely enough rest, sleeping on narrow cots, and drinking watered-down bitter coffee in the break room.

Yet he’d loved every minute of it, because it meant he’d be able to achieve his dream of becoming a pediatrician.

However, his family was wealthy. As the youngest of seven, and with several of his brothers being billionaires, he wanted for nothing.

After exchanging a few more words, Maxwell sauntered toward the VIP section. On the way, his eyes assessed the smorgasbord of lovely women in the venue. After showing his card to the bouncer, he climbed the stairs and spotted his friends.

“There you are!” The boisterous greeting from his friend Jayson was coupled with one long arm being flung around Maxwell’s neck.

A Tyriq Withers look-alike, his friend was six feet, five inches of trouble wrapped in a charming personality and affable grin.

“You’re late, man. I was starting to think you weren’t coming. ”

“You know how it is.”

“Yeah, I know. Who is she?”

“No one you know, but let’s just say, she welcomed me with open arms.”

Jayson laughed, shaking his head. “And legs, I’m sure. I’m just glad my partner in crime is back, man. It’s been rough in these streets without you.”

“I’m sure you’ve been holding it down just fine,” Maxwell said with a chuckle.

“Barely. Carrying this city by myself is not an easy job.” Jayson tapped Maxwell’s chest. “Let’s get some liquor in you.”

Two of their friends from high school shot to their feet and greeted him with cheers and hugs.

“It’s good to have you back.” Lincoln, a green-eyed blond, patted him on the back. He currently worked in the satellite office of a New York-based hedge fund where his father was a managing partner.

“Good to be back,” Maxwell said.

He’d actually been back for months but had kept a low profile, working on a personal project that had brought him much satisfaction before he started his permanent job as a doctor. He had also spent time with his family, temporarily living at home before moving into his own place.

Ever since his return to Atlanta, his family had treated him like a king returning to his throne.

They were all proud of him and glad to have him back in the city.

Yesterday, his brother, Bruno—a chef and restaurateur—had pulled out all the stops in the private room at one of his restaurants.

His siblings, along with their significant others, and his parents, had all gathered to celebrate the new job he started on Monday.

“Who are the ladies?” Maxwell asked.

Three young women sat in the section with his friends.

“I don’t know their names, but I’m pretty sure I’m gonna marry the one in the silver dress,” Lincoln said.

Jayson made an exasperated face.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Lincoln said, walking away.

“This is what I’ve had to deal with,” Jayson said to Maxwell.

“Imagine thinking you’ll find your wife at a damn lounge.

Thank God you’re back. Oh, you need a drink.

” He signaled to the cutie serving their section.

“A dark ‘n’ stormy for my man. Stat.” He took out a folded bill and stuck it in her top.

She shot a flirtatious glance his way. “Coming right up.”

Jayson sank onto the soft sofa and Maxwell settled down beside him. “Deion and Arthur are on their way. Rajesh is in Canada for his sister’s wedding, but he said he’ll catch up with you when he gets back.”

“That’s cool,” Maxwell said.

“So, Monday you enter the workforce like the rest of us. You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

“A pediatrician.” Jayson shook his head slowly. “Tell me this is an angle to get more women, cause I don’t understand why you wanted to be a kid doctor. Hell, you could have chosen to be a surgeon if you wanted to be a doctor so bad.”

“I need you to show my profession a little more respect.”

Jayson laughed. “I have nothing but respect for your profession, I promise, but I’m trying to understand why you chose such a regular-schmegular job when your whole family is balling.

Your dad or any one of your siblings could have set you up in a nice career or business.

Look at me and Lincoln. Our daddies hooked us up with cushy jobs.

I’m trying to understand your reasoning, so explain it to me like I’m five. ”

“I love kids.”

“And their mothers.” Jayson wiggled his eyebrows.

Maxwell laughed. “I’m serious. I’m doing what I’ve always wanted to do. I want to make a difference. Besides, I have plenty of money.” He shrugged.

“You can’t touch it until you turn thirty-five,” Jayson pointed out.

“But it’s there, waiting for me. In less than six years, I’ll be a wealthy man. In the meantime, I’m not exactly struggling.”

“No, you’re not,” Jayson acknowledged.

Jayson didn’t know this, but Maxwell’s father had originally planned for him to receive the proceeds from his multi-million-dollar trust fund when he turned twenty-five, but Maxwell had asked him to change the distribution date to when he turned thirty-five.

He had all his needs taken care of and didn’t need the money.

In the meantime, the trust’s investments continued to grow, making him even wealthier.

The server brought over his drink, and Jayson raised his glass. The other guys did too.

“To my man, Maxwell. Dr. Santana!”

Whistles and whooping ensued as they tapped their glasses together.

Maxwell took a sip, enjoying the flavor profile of the drink, the familiar bite of dark rum and ginger hitting the back of his throat.

“You and your drink,” Jayson said.

“It’s good stuff. I’m ready to party now.”

“Yeah, baby. That’s what I like to hear! Woo!” Jayson hollered.

Arthur and Deion finally showed up, and Maxwell, his friends, and the three women wolfed down appetizers and tossed back drinks as they partied.

Later, slightly buzzing, Maxwell sauntered over to their table covered with platters of food and popped a cold shrimp in his mouth.

As he casually looked down at the dance floor, he caught sight of two older men obviously trying too hard as they cornered a couple of younger women at the bar.

Some men simply weren’t smooth and believed being aggressive was the answer.

Jayson walked over. “Look at those losers, man,” he said with a laugh, noticing the same men. Then he bumped Maxwell’s arm and nodded toward a table below. “Check them out. Two o’clock.”

One of the most interesting features of NV Lounge was the tables with curtains coming down from the ceiling that could be closed to offer privacy.

Seated at one of those tables in a half-circle booth were five women, the curtain open.

One of the women was on her feet and wearing a white veil pinned to the back of her head as she tossed back a shot.

A bachelorette party. Hello.

Women at bachelorette parties tended not only to be in a good mood, they welcomed attention—as long as you weren’t creepy.

The competition was lower because most men assumed the group was off-limits, but Maxwell knew better.

The bride was untouchable, but her single friends?

They were fair game. They’d come to celebrate and forget their responsibilities for one night.

They laughed louder, flirted more easily, and rarely minded attention from the right man.

Two of the women were on their feet, grinding on each other, while the other two remained seated, chatting and laughing.

Maxwell’s eyes were immediately drawn to one of the seated women.

She wore a red, sparkling halter top and her hair was scooped up in a loose bun on top of her head.

Her defined features included high cheekbones, a pointy chin, and a soft jawline.

There was nothing subtle about her appearance.

All of her features, including her generous lips, were show-stopping.

She used her hands while she talked, making a point with big gestures and animated expressions.

“The one in the red top,” he said, staking his claim right away.

“Cool. I had my eye on the one in the catsuit shaking her ass. Damn, she’s fine. Look at all that asssss.”

Nothing else needed to be said because they both knew what to do. Maxwell and Jayson had been each other’s wingmen for years, including the occasions when Maxwell had returned to Atlanta from his Boston residency.

He flagged down the server and sent two bottles of Ace of Spades to the women’s table. One bottle of champagne could be seen as a nice touch, and a table of women might be thankful. Two bottles drew attention and deeper appreciation, yielding better results more often.

He and Jayson watched as the bottles were delivered, and the women accepted them the way confident women always did—as if they deserved it. The server pointed up to the VIP section, and when the women looked up, both Jayson and Maxwell lifted their glasses in a silent toast.

Normally, one of two things happened. The women might indicate their thanks and then continue enjoying their night out—without male interference. Or, they’d invite them over.

The friends huddled together in a brief consultation, and then the one in the catsuit turned in their direction. She crooked her finger, beckoning them down in a come-hither manner.

“Score,” Jayson whispered.

They didn’t rush. After telling their friends where they were headed, they took their time going downstairs.

At the table, names were exchanged and Jayson pulled the catsuit-wearing one aside, while Maxwell was able to squeeze in where he wanted to be—right next to Jasmine, the beauty in the red top.

Up close, he had a better view and could see the gold undertones in her light complexion. Her eyes were hazel-colored, warm, and friendly, making it hard to look away. She leaned back, crossing one denim-clad thigh over the other as she boldly watched him.

“So, Max, do you often spend thousands of dollars on champagne for women you don’t know?”

“You don’t think you and your friends are worth it?” he asked.

“We’re definitely worth it,” she said with impressive confidence.

“Good. To answer your question, nah, I don’t do this often.”

“Why’d you do it this time?” Jasmine asked.

“Because there was one particular woman I wanted to meet.” Maxwell paused for effect.

“And who might that be?” she cooed.

He let his gaze travel down her shapely body and bit his bottom lip, ensuring she understood he appreciated what he saw. “You.”