by Brandi Evans
He swiped on as I sidled close and wrapped an arm around his middle. "What do you have for us, Angela?"
Us…
I was just close enough to make out something about an interview request and Good Morning America.
Max turned to me. "I need to take this in my office. There're apparently some emails I need to read. Coming?"
I shook my head. He was making such an effort to include me in everything, and I loved that. "I'll let you two hash out the details, and then, we can go over the nitty gritty in bed later. I want to stay here a little longer and just soak this day away."
"Positive?"
I nodded. "Just keep in mind that I have veto rights."
"Deal." He pressed a quick kiss to my lips. "If I haven't already come back, stop by the office on your way to bed, okay."
"Promise."
Gloriously naked, Max stepped from the water. Beads of water clung to his sun-kissed skin, but my attention immediately snagged on a certain series of dots trailing over the swell of his round ass. Resting my arms on the side of the tub, I stared after him until he disappeared out of sight.
Damn, that man looked even more amazing in just his own skin than he did in the three-piece suits that made me go damp between the thighs.
I sighed, turned, and sunk back into the warm water. I closed my eyes and tried my best to let my mind and my thoughts go still. I took in a slow, deep breath and held it for a few heartbeats. As I let it out, I focused on relaxing every muscle in my body from head to toe. Jaw. Neck. Shoulders. Arms. Abdo—
The snap of a twig breaking catapulted me back to the moment. I opened my eyes in time to see a shadowy figure stepping from the darkness beyond the pool room's open massive sliding glass doors and into the room itself, and fear ran cold in my veins. Clothed all in black, Théo strode almost casually across the room, something shiny clutched in a gloved hand.
Fuck it all—he had a knife!
"I thought he'd never leave." Théo grinned the smile I'd thought was so attractive the night we met; now, it filled me with dread.
I completely froze.
"Although, I must admit," he continued, "you two put on quite the amazing show while I waited. I hope you don't mind that I watched."
The idea that Théo had watched Max and me in an intimate moment sent a fresh wave of unease traveling through me. Being watched—and touched—by strangers at Restrained Fantasies was one thing, but this voyeurism was uninvited and unwanted.
I glanced in the direction Max had disappeared. If I called out now, would he still be able to hear me? Possibly, but if I did, it'd put him square in Théo's crosshairs, which was the last thing I wanted. My being in danger was enough; I didn't want Max in danger, too. I especially didn't want sweet Tricia to be the one to hear me and come down here.
The whisper of shoes on concrete snapped my gaze back to Théo. "What're you doing here?" I asked.
As questions went, it was stupid. Getting stabby was the reason he was here, but maybe, if I could get him talking, he might do something to slip up and give me the upper hand.
"Setting the final elements of my plan into motion, but I thought that would be obvious." The words sounded oddly eerie in his thick accent, more menacing, especially considering his plan probably ended with that knife in my chest.
"It's not too late to just leave," I said, "before you do something you can't take back. No one's been hurt yet."
"Oh, ma chère, I'm afraid you are quite wrong there." Moving ever closer, he lifted the knife in his hand, which was when I noticed it wasn't a knife. It was a letter opener.
Max's letter opener.
I recognized the colored logo on the blade, a blade already stained with blood.
Fuck.
I pushed to my feet and stepped from the water, my nude form the least of my worries. "Whose blood is that?" It couldn't be Max's; he hadn't been gone long enough for Théo to have stabbed him and then gotten around to the back entrance of the pool house. Oh, god, was it Mrs. Higgins?
"A friend's." Théo glanced at the blade, and what I'd classify as remorse briefly flittered across his features. "But she let her emotions get the better of her, which I used to think was endearing, but this time, she ruined the plan we'd been working on for close to a year now, and well, I had to improvise."
She?
Giselle…
Grief sparked in my chest. I despised that woman but not enough to wish her dead at the hands of a madman.
"Improvise?" I asked, not caring about his answer. Nothing he could say would make any of this better, but the more I kept him talking, the more distracted he was, and the more distracted he was, the better chance I had to stay alive.
My jujitsu instructor's words filtered through my head. Manage the distance; manage the damage.
In other words, if I kept myself far enough away from that blade, it couldn't hurt me. So that was strategy number one: keeping a minimum of two arm's lengths away. From that distance, Théo wouldn't be able to punch, stab, or anything else without telegraphing his actions well in advance. My instructor called this the green zone, and I needed to stay in the green zone.
"She was never supposed to die," Théo said again, our positions around the hot tub switching as we circled each other. "My love was simply supposed to mess with Max's head, to put him off-kilter as we held the information about you over his head, coming at him from two angles, so to speak. Mess with him emotionally as we worked to leverage him into giving up his stake in Giselle's company before the launch of our new line. We stood to make a fortune, but only if we got control of Giselle's company back."
The low lights played over his features as he worked in and out of the shadows, working closer and closer to his target—to me. How so much malice and beauty had been packed into one person, I'd never know.
"The blackmail was never supposed to go public, but Giselle, well, she let her desire to hurt dear old Max get the better of her, so unfortunately for her, my new plan just didn't need her anymore. At least, it didn't need her alive—just like it doesn't need you alive. It's really nothing personal, ma chère."
"Well, it sure as fuck feels personal." Max had been right. This man was a complete psychopath.
Théo swiped the air with Max's letter opener, far enough away to do any damage or—
Max's letter opener!
Suddenly, his plan fell into place. "You're trying to frame Max," I said. No doubt, his fingerprints were all over the letter opener, and judging by the fact Théo was wearing gloves, his wouldn't be.
"Clever girl. Giselle was right to be intimidated by you, not that that's going to do you any good anymore."
His entire body tensed, signaling his intention in as much vivid detail as if he'd used a neon sign; he was about to charge. Releasing a breath, I readied myself as he, letter opener raised in his hand and ready for battle, lunged at me.
Time slowed to a crawl as I stepped to my right while simultaneously grabbing his wrist—the hand with the weapon—with my right. Using his forward momentum against him while keeping his wrist secure, I planted my other hand on his shoulder and tripped him.
He went careening toward the ground, and he instinctively reached out to catch himself, just as I'd anticipated. Extending the arms to brace for a fall was instinct, a defense mechanism meant to protect the head and face from traumatic injury and, in this instance, something I used to my advantage.
The letter opener clattered to the ground and skittered across the concrete, but it didn't go far enough. I needed to act fast.
With precise, well-practiced moves, I dropped to his back and hooked my right arm around his neck, making sure his trachea was in the crook of my elbow. Then, using the same arm, I grabbed my upper left biceps, placed my left palm against the back of Théo's shoulder, and squeezed my elbows toward each other. I put all my strength into the choke. With the force I was applying, Théo would pass out in ten seconds tops.
Ten.
Nine.
He
flailed his hand toward the weapon and managed to get his fingers around the hilt, but I didn't release my hold. He might have the knife again, but from this position, I still had the advantage. He was fading fast. His movements were turning frantic.
Eight.
Seven.
He was moments away from passing out. I just needed to hold out a few seconds longer.
He flailed his arm backward and landed a punch to my side.
Fuck!
I fought through the pain.
Six.
F-five.
I shook my head clear. Something, something was wrong. I felt fuzzy, and I was losing focus. Fast. It felt as if a cold wind was sweeping through my body.
Don't let go, I pleaded with myself. Don't let go.
The letter opener clattered back to the ground, and he brought both hands to his throat and fought against my hold. His hands were sticky and wet from, from, from…
Four.
I blinked my eyes, trying to focus my thoughts.
That was blood.
My blood.
Those hadn't been punches he'd landed. In the melee, he'd managed to stab me. I was going into shock.
Three.
He was fading.
I was fading.
At this point, it was a matter of who passed out first.
Two.
I fought to remain conscious, frantic with the knowledge that if I went first, it'd be a death sentence. I'd leave Max all alone, and that was the one thing I could not do. I screamed as I fought to remain conscious, to refocus the last of my energy into my hold.
One.
Théo went lax, but I held on, making absolutely sure he was neutralized. If I could hold the choke longer, it would keep him unconscious longer. A properly-applied blood choke worked fast, but on the back end, victims didn't stay down long. I needed Max down here now.
I screamed again as I rolled off the unconscious Théo, but my voice sounded so weak that I wasn't sure anyone could hear me.
I tried pushing to my feet, but that's when the pain hit, a fiery, wet heat that burned from the inside out. I was dying.
"No," I admonished my failing body as I kicked the letter opener into the pool. Théo would wake sooner than I wanted, and I wasn't gonna make it easy for him to finish his plan.
The world tilted, and I collapsed in the doorway. I rolled onto my back, tears on my cheeks as I clutched my hand to my side.
"Max!"
The world faded to black.
Chapter 12
Max's voice teased me from a foggy, disconnected sleep, but I didn't open my eyes. No, I couldn't open my eyes. My body was heavy and unresponsive, as if my spirit and physical forms were misaligned and could no longer work together.
I stopped trying to move and focused solely on Max's words. They sounded low and so, so far away.
"Breanne Jennings is the best thing that's ever happened to me, and her vicious and brutal attack was an unforgivable and heartbreaking act of malice. She was an innocent victim of my past, and I will forever hold myself responsible for what happened to her. We all have pasts, and my past hurt the woman I love. It's something that can't—something I won't—allow to happen ever again."
Max's voice cut away, replaced by an unfamiliar female voice. "That was Maxwell Penn, CEO of Whitecliff International, yesterday, as he waited for Breanne Jennings to get out of surgery."
Yesterday? Surgery?
I searched my memories, but everything was so fragmented. My mind was a scattered array of images.
Negative news coverage. Janet Lancaster. A press conference. Théo. An attack. Being stabbed.
Stabbed…
A kick of adrenaline jump-started my brain, and everything came rushing back. I forced my eyelids open, ready to defend myself against another attack, but I wasn't in the pool room anymore. I was in a hospital room, and the voice I'd heard must have been on the TV mounted to the wall opposite me, which was now showing some car insurance commercial with some CGI general.
And Max—my Max—sat in a chair beside my bed, hunched over as he slept. His head rested on the mattress, and his fingers were linked with mine. It was the most adorable and gratifying sight I'd ever seen. I'd survived Théo's attack, and in the process, I'd kept the man I loved safe.
I tried lifting my free hand—the one with the IV—and was surprised when the limb responded. Slowly, yes, but movement was movement. I finger-brushed Max's golden locks, so thankful I'd been able to save him, and obviously, he'd saved me in return. If he hadn't come back to the pool in time, I wouldn't still be alive.
Max lifted his head, and the second our gazes met, tears made his sky-blues seem huge and luminescent.
"My god, Bree." He pushed to his feet and pressed a sweet, tender kiss to my lips. "You're awake."
"How long have I been out?" My voice was scratchy, my throat dry.
"Almost a day. The doctor's assured me you'd pull through, but part of me couldn't bring myself to fully believe it until now." He kissed me again. "Until I saw your beautiful eyes."
I wrapped my arms around him the best I could, given the pain and the wires and the tears suddenly streaming down my cheeks.
"When I found you…" He spoke into the crook of my neck, his voice barely audible. "…I've never been so scared. I thought I'd lost you forever."
"I was scared for you, too." And I had been. So much. "I was scared Théo would regain consciousness before you found me, and I wouldn't be able to keep you safe."
"I should have been there to protect you. When I came downstairs and found you bleeding, I thought—" His voice broke, and tears warmed my neck where his face was still hidden.
I hugged him tighter still. "You said Théo was a psychopath, but I never thought him capable of this." Fear clamped anew onto my spine. "What happened to Théo? Did the police take him into custody?" I knew I hadn't hurt him that badly.
Max was quiet for a long, terrifying moment. "He was just coming to when I got there, and he ran."
I pulled back and searched Max's eyes, not wanting to believe what I already knew. "You mean he… he got away?"
Max nodded. "Saving you was my priority."
Of course, it was. In his position, I would have done the same. I knew that, but it didn't stop the terror from multiplying. The man who'd tried to kill me was still out there somewhere. Would he come after me again?
I placed a hand on my side. "How badly did he hurt me?"
"Most of the cuts were superficial, but one penetrated your kidney. The damage was severe, and the surgeon—" He squeezed my hand. "I'm so sorry, Bree, but she had to remove the kidney."
"Had to what?" A fresh wave of tears flowed free and scorched my cheek. "Oh god."
"I'm so sorry, Bree." He pulled me back into his arms. "I wish there was something I could do to fix all this."
"I know you do, but this isn't your fault. You didn't do this to me. He did."
At least, I'd survived. I'd have to keep reminding myself of that. I'd survived. I'd survived. It could have been so much worse, like it had been for Théo's other victim.
"Is Giselle…" I couldn't finish the question.
"She didn't fare as well as you did when Théo attacked."
"Fuck." A pang of grief flicked to life in my chest. "I hated her. A lot. But I'd never have wished this on her." Especially after almost suffering the same fate.
"Me, too. Which, honestly, surprises me. If there'd be anyone I hated enough to wish that, it'd be her."
"He had your letter opener. That's what he stabbed me with, what he presumably killed Giselle with. It was an attempt to frame you. He'd told me as much. I just don't understand why. I mean, I understand why he'd be motivated to frame you, just not to kill his lover in the process."
"I've actually been thinking a lot about that while I waited for you to wake up. When the police showed me the letter opener, I'd made the same conclusion. Using it was an attempt to frame me for Giselle's death." He fiddled with a strand of my
hair. "Remember at the hotel, when I told you that I didn't understand why she'd gone to the media about you?"
I nodded.
"I don't think that was ever part of their plan."
"I think you're right," I said, something Théo said coming back to me. "He said the blackmail was never supposed to go public. Something about Giselle letting her desire to hurt you get the better of her. Then, he said something about a new plan that didn't need her anymore."
Max nodded contemplatively—and then froze. His eyes widened as if he'd just figured something out. "Well, that would explain it then."
"What would explain what?"
"Everything. Giselle had been trying to get me to sign the company back over to her for years, but I kept saying no. So, they tried blackmailing me, using your past to get to me, and their plan was working brilliantly. They were getting to me. There's no way they didn't know that."
I nodded, remembering all too vividly Max and Giselle's exchange in the hallway the last night of Boudoir Fashion Week. He'd nearly come undone.
"But if they were getting to you," I began, "why fuck that up by going public with their blackmail and giving up the only leverage they had on you?"
"Yes, that's what I didn't understand until just now. Giselle was impulsive back in the day. That's a personality trait I doubt has changed in the intervening years, which tells me something we did—something I did—set her off in a way that angered her so much she lashed out. Think about it. What happened the weekend before the news went public?"
"She came at you at Restrained Fantasies."
"She came at me at Restrained Fantasies and was punished. Restrained Fantasies has sister clubs around the world, and if she got blacklisted at one, she'd be blacklisted at all of them. That's not something I imagine her current Dom was very pleased with."
"Théo was Giselle's Dom." Why hadn't that ever occurred to me? I'd known her preferences because of Max, but I just hadn't put two and two together. True, I'd had a lot on my mind with Max, his past, Giselle, and finding the courage to attend the Swingers' Ball, but still…
