Chapter 37 Maddox
MADDOX
“Act natural and pretend I’m not here,” Reyna complains.
“I’ve never been able to ignore your presence before. That’s not going to start now, love.” I level her with a glare since she’s been evading my questions all morning. “How was breakfast with the leader of a secret society? Life-altering? Mind-blowing? Inspiring?”
She blew Shepherd off on Wednesday and, to my surprise, agreed to meet him a couple of days later once he confirmed my engagement had been called off, with no repercussions.
Reyna and I have barely had time to see each other this week—which is utter bullshit, seeing as the only threat we now face is an HR complaint and the unlikely loss of the scholarship Shepherd set up solely for her a year ago.
With only a week until the exhibit’s opening night, I’ve been going mad trying to complete everything and finish the painting for Theo’s charity gala. It helps that I’m finally in the right headspace to clearly envision where I want to take each piece.
The extent of my interactions with Reyna lately have been in my studio, with her studying while I work.
The only time we talk is during meal breaks, and that’s wholly insufficient for me.
Especially since our conversations have been turned into an opportunity for her to interrogate me on everything to do with Shepherd and the Order.
Which leads me to today.
I invited her to my house under the guise of filming behind-the-scenes footage for my exhibit. Little does she know that I have no intention of letting her leave until tomorrow morning.
“So?” I push.
She drops her hand, swinging the camera. “I chickened out. Okay? Can we not talk about it?”
I turn away from the half-painted canvas. “No. We’re talking about it.”
“I have nothing to say.” Reyna brings the camera back up to focus on me, which is useless since the whole point of this is to have behind-the-scenes videos for the exhibit.
It’s been rather tricky since half of the installations are a surprise.
Grumbling, she turns the camera off, then places it on the table before leaning against it, staring at me in distaste. My cock stirs when my focus goes straight to her thighs as she crosses her legs at the ankle.
Christ, I miss having them around me.
“Speak,” I order.
She glowers at me. We both know I won’t let this go. As much benefit as I might receive from being Shepherd’s future son-in-law, and as selfish as I am for wanting them to rekindle so I can keep living the good life, Reyna should have a relationship with her dad. Even if he’s a massive cunt.
“He lied,” she says.
“Go on.” I nod, adjusting myself to hide the hard-on I’m sporting while we’re having a serious conversation.
“He faked his death.”
She uncrosses her legs and folds her arms. Because I am but a simple man, my attention drops to the swell of her breasts. I clear my throat and force myself to think of dying kittens and accidentally breaking a brand-new graphite pencil. “Both very awful. Please continue.”
“He was also never around. And he hurt Mom. Are we also forgetting that he tortured you?”
“We can both agree that he will never win any father-of-the-year awards. But he’s also the reason your mother was able to have access to the best doctors in the country, why you were accepted into Cresswell midway through the year, and he got you into a nice flat with good security—”
“That you broke into several times.”
“I don’t count,” I point out, pretending that I don’t notice her chest rising with her heavy breath. “And he’s probably the reason my father didn’t try to kill you sooner, and why you’re now one of the most protected people in this city.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “How do you know all of this?”
“Because I met with him.”
Her jaw drops. “What? When?”
“Eight a.m. this morning at the diner. I went in case you needed moral support—or if you needed help strangling him. Imagine my surprise when you weren’t there.”
“Was he…” Reyna averts her gaze to the floor. “Telling the truth?”
“I did my own digging after I left. He was.”
The stool groans as I rise to my feet and pull her into my arms—which is a massive bloody mistake because now her body is right against me, and my dick is very aware that I could be buried inside her in five seconds flat.
“I’m not telling you to forgive him or give him a chance.” I didn’t deserve either of those two things from her. “A man in his position has a lot of enemies, and there might not be any second chances if something happens to him.”
She leans her head against my shoulders, and my heart does a flip. “Mom always insisted I give him a chance.”
I hum my acknowledgment as she groans and hits her head against my chest. “It’s so stupid.” She pulls back, and I cock a brow at her. “The whole reason I moved to New York was to learn about that prick.”
“Believe it or not, you can now get your information straight from the source.”
She rolls her eyes. “I know that, but I’m pissed off at him.”
“Then stay angry. You don’t have to push him away at the same time. Arm’s length means that he’s still reachable.” I shrug. “And you could milk the situation for all it’s worth.”
She hits my arm playfully. “I don’t want his money.”
“I can afford to take us to Paris every month out of the year, but it would be much more satisfying to know it’s on Shepherd’s dime.
” I never received a cent for any of the shit I did for him.
I am, however, pissed off at how little he left as Reyna’s “inheritance.” Admittedly, the bulk of the funds were used toward her mom’s healthcare, but he could have covertly topped it up without putting a dent in his finances.
“If Roland were a decent person, I might consider jeopardizing my precious brain cells to be in his company.”
She purses her lips. “Would you want to get to know James if he were your dad?”
Fuck no.
I walked right into that one.
Shepherd recruited me when I was fourteen. The man clearly doesn’t have much in the way of morals, and that’s a lot coming from me.
A diplomatic response is the best course of action. “He’s shown that he’s committed to looking after you, even if you spend the rest of your life living as if he were dead. Now, tell me, Miss Sinaga, would you regret walking the other way if he died next week?”
“I’ll text him tomorrow,” she whispers reluctantly, innocently pressing her chest against me in such a mind-altering, cock-saluting way that I’m surprised she hasn’t said that it feels like there’s a loaded gun pointing at her.
Her fate is sealed when she levels me with the venomous glare that got me hooked on her from the very start. “Why did you have to make sense without being an asshole?”
Reyna yelps when I spin her around to bend her over the table, with my fingers threaded in her hair.
“What are you doing?” she gasps, supporting her weight with her hands.
“Being an asshole.”
I yank the skirt up her waist and rip her stockings down her legs while her ass is up in the air.
“Maddox,” she squeals, wiggling her hips.
Everything she does makes my cock fucking ache. “Apologize,” I grunt.
“For what?” Her question comes out in that husky voice of hers that I’ve been obsessed with since day one.
I free my belt from my pants in a single motion and bind her wrists together. Her heady scent permeates the room as I pull the leather tight to keep her fingers from wandering places they shouldn’t. “Calling me an asshole.”
“No.”
The one word earns her a sharp whack. She cries out at the impact, and a pink handprint blooms on her soft, tanned skin. The possessive beast inside of me preens with satisfaction when she squeezes her legs together, and a dark spot starts to form in the center of her panties.
She likes this.
My fingers trail over the scars along her hips and thighs as I massage the welt forming on her ass. It amazes me that she doesn’t tense or cower away over having them touched. I want to ask if she’s ever felt embarrassed by them, or if she’s just learned to live with it.
“Beautiful,” I mutter, because I’d fall for her in whatever shape or form she comes in.
I rub the red mark caused by my hand, appreciating the contrast of colors and the shape left beside her tattoo. “Say sorry, Miss Sinaga. Where are your manners?”
Looking up at me over her shoulder, Reyna raises her head in defiance, pupils blown out. “Make me.”
Fuck, I bloody love her.
“I’d hate to have to punish you for your behavior.”
My hand goes down on her pert ass, and she whimpers. One word that describes me is sadistic, and it perfectly describes how I spank her other cheek twice just to make the cherry-pink marks blooming on her pretty little backside even.
I wind her long hair around my fist. My other hand burns an achingly slow path from the back of her calves, curving into the dip between her thighs, up to her apex, where the cotton fabric darkens more with every second I leave her wanting.
A shuddered breath leaves her when I force her attention forward so she has to assume my movements by sound and touch alone.
I brush her thighs before ghosting a touch over the back of her knees.
The smallest whimper has me grinning, and I repeat the motion, sliding a finger against her pussy before running it down the back of her leg again.
When I have her squirming and shifting her hips, I bring my hand down on her supple skin, leaving another pink mark on her flesh. Reyna throws her head back as she cries out, pressing her legs together.
I do it three more times for good measure.
“Apologize,” I demand.
“No.”
It’s her funeral.
My movements are languid, traveling back down the curve of her legs to her calves, imprinting every inch of her delectable body into memory as precome leaks from my cock.