by Leisa Rayven
Some of them laugh, then Candice says, “Sure, it’s an amazing feeling to be the center of the universe of a man like Max, and there’s no doubt he’s incredible at knowing just how far to push, but none of us is fooling ourselves that it’s real. For those of us who’ve had money our whole lives, we’re used to men pretending they love us to get their golden ticket. It happens all the time. Max gives us the adrenaline rush of that kind of attention without any of the strings.”
“Or alimony payments,” Marla says with a laugh.
I’m about to ask another question when Vivian appears beside Marla and smiles at me. “Ladies, I’m sorry to interrupt the stallion appreciation society, but I’m afraid I have to steal Miss Crane.”
Several highly arched eyebrows are raised, including Marla’s. “Do you happen to have a date tonight, Eden?” In a strange twist, she seems excited for me.
“Uh, yes, actually.”
“I was wondering who he’d bring to this event. He helped organize it, you know.”
Actually, I didn’t know.
She leans over to me. “Enjoy yourself. Try not to think too much. You’re a queen. Let Max treat you like one for a change. Goodness knows, we’ve all had our fill of being treated like part of the furniture.”
That statement stays with me as I smile at her and bid the ladies goodnight. I must admit to myself that I underestimated them. I figured they’d all be rich and bitchy, but they seem determined to support each other, and Max is the glue that binds them all together.
As I leave, I tell Joanna I’ll talk to her later before following Vivian toward the stairs.
“Did you get what you needed, Miss Crane?”
I reach into my purse to turn off my voice recorder. “You knew those ladies were there when you stood me next to them, didn’t you?” She smiles but doesn’t answer. “And from your stallion comment, I’m assuming you know all about Max and his extracurricular activities.”
She stops and turns to me. “Who do you think set him up with his client base in the first place?”
I do a mental jaw drop. “You ... manage him?” I never even considered that Max would have a pimp. Or, more accurately, a madam.
She laughs. “Hardly. Max is capable of managing himself. I merely suggested there was a definite market for his talents and introduced him to some of my friends. He did the rest.”
“And how did you learn about his talents in the first place?”
She looks down at my purse. “Do you want this on record?”
“Is that okay?”
“I wouldn’t have suggested it if it wasn’t.”
After I turn the recorder back on she says, “A few years ago, I was at my lowest point. I won’t go into all the details, but the short story is that my husband of thirty years informed me he’d never loved me and then left me for a woman half my age.”
“Oh, God. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It was the best thing that ever happened to me; but at the time I couldn’t see that. Everything I’d taken for granted about my life was destroyed. Then one night I was drowning my sorrows in a bar downtown where Max was bartending. I don’t know how he could tell I was struggling, but he could. He spent the rest of the night trying to make me feel better.”
“Did he succeed?”
She laughs softly. “Remarkably, yes. I’ve never considered myself vulnerable to the charms of beautiful young men, but he wasn’t just handsome. He was also wickedly intelligent and one of the most caring souls I’d ever met. That night, within the space of a few hours, he made me realize that my husband was a moron for letting me go, and I was better off without him.”
“How did he do that?”
She narrows her eyes a little. “I still don’t know. But he did. Over the following weeks, whenever I’d feel down, I’d go the bar and see Max. He was my human booster shot of self-esteem. On those nights, I tipped him well. He’d resist, of course, but I insisted. From there, I started recommending that bar to my friends who were struggling. Max became very popular, very quickly.”
“So how did he transform from Max the friendly bartender into Mister Romance?”
She hesitates then says, “When we became friends, he admitted to having some issues of his own. He wasn’t in a good place emotionally or financially, and I realized he’d have to make a change in order to get ahead. The concept for Mister Romance seemed a good way to capitalize on his skills. Thankfully, he agreed.”
“What sort of problems was he having?” This is the first time I’ve heard any hint that Max isn’t the perfectly put-together cover model he always seems to be. I’m intrigued to hear he may have a jaded past.
“That’s not my story to tell. And besides, I’ve been gabbing long enough. If we don’t wrap this up, he’ll come looking for you, and the character he’s playing tonight doesn’t take kindly to being kept waiting.” She points toward the stairs. “Head on down. He’s at the bottom. And he’ll probably kill me for telling you this, but he’s been anxious to see you all week.”
I click off the recorder and close my purse. “Why are you helping me? If I end up publishing this story, it would ruin everything you’ve helped him build.”
She touches my arm. “I don’t know you, Eden, but from what I can tell, you’re a decent person. I trust that after you have all of the information about Max, you’ll make the right decision.”
With that, she pats my arm and heads off to the other side of the balcony.
* * *
I take a breath as I absorb everything I’ve learned tonight. Max wasn’t kidding when he said he’d give me access. I’ve gone from an information famine to a feast, and it’s going to take a while for me to digest it all.
I smooth my dress and head down the stairs. As I turn onto the landing, my breath catches when I spy Max. He’s a few yards away from the bottom of the stairs, talking to a beautiful woman in black. I stop short and grab the railing when the full force of his appearance hits me.
Dear God. I’m in trouble.
There’s no denying that Max is an attractive man no matter what he wears, but tonight in that laser-sharp dinner suit, with his hair slick and neat, pure, undiluted sex rolls off him in waves. I don’t have the words to describe how entirely screwed I am.
I take a couple of calming breaths. Predictably, they don’t work. It doesn’t help that whenever I’m hit with a bout of dizzying attraction to Max, it’s accompanied by an equally strong amount of panic. Perhaps the ladies upstairs were right; I need to surrender to this feeling rather than fight it. But will that make being around him less debilitating? Is it possible for me to embrace the attraction without involving my locked-down emotions?
I decide to embrace the acting exercise and try to channel what Eden Crane would do.
I continue my breathing technique while I watch Max interact with his lady friend. She really is stunning. I dislike the sensation I get when she laughs and puts her hand on his chest. I dislike it even more when she stretches up to whisper in his ear. And when Max smiles as he cups her elbow, I get a pain in my jaw from clenching my teeth too hard.
No doubt she’s a client, but seeing him being so affectionate with another woman is ... irritating.
After the whispered exchange, she kisses him on the cheek, and I try to shake off my tension as I continue down the steps toward him.
When I’m almost to the bottom, he turns and sees me, and ... oh, dear Lord ... the expression on his face. It’s like the whole universe is expanding in his chest. His gaze sweeps all over me as I walk, and even though I try to play it cool, feeling my heart slamming against my ribcage makes that difficult.
When I stop in front of him, he shakes his head the tiniest amount before swallowing with effort. After a few seconds of staring, he says in a low voice, “Miss Crane, you’re ... stunning.”
Okay, so, yes. He’s playing a character, and so am I. I’m going to be someone else. Someone open to how he’s looking at me. Maybe even someone who’s able t
o be gracious.
I try to smile. “You’re too kind, Mr. Roberts.”
“Actually, I’m not.” He takes my hand and brings it up to his mouth where he presses a warm, lingering kiss to my skin. I feel those lips everywhere at once, as if the back of my hand it a conductor for every other cell in my body.
When he lowers my hand, he doesn’t let it go. “If I had a better vocabulary to describe how amazing you look, I’d use it. Unfortunately, ‘stunning’ is all I can come up with.”
I look away. Taking on his compliments is more difficult than I thought, especially when I’m trying to minimize my sarcasm.
“Is this what usually happens when you invite a woman out?” I ask, laughing off my tension. “You dress her up like a goddess then melt her panties with your sex voice?”
“Yes, that’s the general idea. At least, I hope the thing about melting your panties is true.” He glances at my body. “Are you wearing the underwear I bought you?” I give a tight nod. “Good. Then the mental image I have right now is accurate.”
I glance up at him and realize instantly it’s not a great idea. I’ve had men undress me with their eyes before, but that’s not what Max is doing. From what I can tell, he’s mentally tearing my clothes off with his teeth.
I squirm under his scrutiny. This is feeling way too intimate, and I’m not the slightest bit equipped to deal with him on this level. I shift my weight, becoming more and more uncomfortable every second.
“What are you doing?” he asks as I look anywhere but at him.
“I don’t know. This is too strange for me.”
“No, it’s not. Stop fidgeting and relax.” There’s an edge to his voice I haven’t heard before. Rough and bossy. Believably raw.
“Relaxing isn’t in my nature.” I close my eyes and roll my neck. Then I exhale and open my eyes to see him staring at me in concern. “I’m sorry. I’m trying.”
“I can see that.”
“You know, I ran into some interesting women upstairs. They gave me valuable advice.”
He looks wary. “Which was?”
“Stop fighting and surrender. I’m just not sure I’m the sort of person who can do that.”
“Then let me help you.” He steps closer and takes hold of my chin. “Tonight, you’ll do as you’re told. You’ll answer my questions truthfully, accept every compliment I give you, and not flinch away from me or how I make you feel. Am I clear?”
“I –”
“Don’t argue with me, Eden. Am ... I ... clear?” He looks like the god of thunder, ready to strike me down if I defy him.
“Yes. Clear.”
His eyelids get heavy as he continues to stare at me. “Good.” He steps back and glances at my neck. “Before we go any further, there’s one more gift I forgot to send.” He pulls a black velvet bag out of his pocket and turns it upside down into his palm. Inside is a stunning necklace, sparkling in the low light. I assume the stones are crystals, because if they were diamonds he’d need to hire a bodyguard to follow me around all night to make sure I didn’t lose it.
He puts the bag on a nearby table. “When you wear it, think of me.”
He holds it up to unclasp it, and even if it is costume jewelry, it’s still the most extravagant present I’ve ever received.
“Max, I can’t accept that. It’s –”
“... not up for discussion. Turn around, please.”
When I do, he reaches in front of me and leans close as he secures the clasp. I draw in a breath when he grazes his fingers along the edge of my shoulder. “Of all the women I know, Eden, you’re the one who deserves to be dripping in diamonds.”
I turn to him. “These are diamonds?”
“Do you think I’d give you glass?”
I touch the stones around my neck. “No, I just ...” I have no idea what’s going on right now. Is this a normal part of the scenario? Are they really diamonds, or are we just playing pretend?
“Eden?” When I look at him, I see his expression has softened. “Don’t fight it.”
I take a step back. I’m too hot and way too vulnerable. “I need a drink.”
He steps forward and cups my face. “No. No more drinking tonight.” He looks into my eyes. “You’re going to be stone-cold sober when you ask me to kiss you later, because there’s no way I’m letting you blame what’s going to happen between us on alcohol.”
I can’t stop staring at him. “I’m not here to kiss you. I’m here for the story.”
“Actually, you’re here to understand my methods and my clients. Kissing plays into both of those.” He glances at my lips. “And I’m going to enjoy every second while I thoroughly explain myself to you.”
The tension between us is reaching uncomfortable levels when I hear buzzing. With an apologetic look, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. When he glances at the screen, his face looks like the sky before a tornado.
“Excuse, Miss Crane. I have to take this.”
He stalks off to the side of the room and disappears into an open hallway. I look around, feeling conspicuously alone. I know he walked away to have privacy, but I’m curious about who on earth could make him look so murderous.
I casually make my way over to the hallway and peek around the corner. He’s nowhere to be seen.
There are several open doorways farther along, and when I get enough away from the ballroom to make out anything but the sound of the band, I can hear Max. He’s not yelling, but his voice is definitely raised in anger.
“I don’t care where you go or what you do, but stay the hell away from me. You and I are done.” There’s a pause, then a bitter laugh. “Do you think you scare me? You don’t. You’re a pathetic excuse for a man, and if I’m ever in a room with you again, you’d better bring bodyguards, because you’re not getting out of there in one piece, asshole.”
For a second there’s silence, then I hear a frustrated, “Fuck!” before a huge crashing sound.
I walk over and peek into the room. It’s set up with several large tables covered in white cloths. One of the tables is on its side, surrounded by toppled chairs. Max is standing with his phone in one hand, his shoulders slumped and head down. His other hand is clenched into a tight fist. I can almost feel his rage from where I’m standing.
I used to think Max had solid-gold composure, but after the thing with Brick earlier in the week, and now this? My already-eager curiosity has switched into overdrive.
Who the hell was he talking to? And why did they push him over the edge?
Knowing he has this kind of rage inside him is troubling. Is that why he always seems so studiously calm? To keep this part of him under control? And after his statement about violence at the bar the other night, it’s ironic to hear him threaten someone so vehemently.
I have the strongest urge to go to him and ask what’s wrong ... to try to help somehow. But how do I do that?
After a few seconds, I make the decision that maybe it’s best to leave him alone to gather himself. I don’t know if I’ve ever been as angry as he is, but I can imagine it’s not something you want other people around to witness.
As quietly as I can I step away from the door, but I must not be stealthy enough, because before I get two steps, he bellows, “Miss Crane!”
I freeze, thinking that maybe he’s like a T-rex and won’t see me if I stay still. That doesn’t seem to be the case, because he says, “I know you’re there. Come in here.”
Like a kid who’s been caught sneaking in the morning after prom night, I walk into the room.
His glare nearly pins me to the wall. “Shut the door.”
I slowly turn and close the door behind me, and there’s way too much going on in my body right now to make sense of it. This Maxwell character is like regular-Max turned up to eleven, and that’s eleven points too much for me to handle.
“Do you often eavesdrop on private conversations?” he asks, his voice is quiet but intense.
“No.”
“But you thought it was acceptable to listen to mine?”
I want to play the submissive role, but there are so many questions swirling in my head right now, it’s difficult to stop them from spilling from my mouth.
“You looked upset. I wanted to find out why.”
He comes over to me, cups my face, and then runs his thumb over my lips. “It’s not worth discussing. I’m sorry we were interrupted. All I wanted to do tonight was have a nice time with you.”
The warmth that’s spreading from his hand to my face increases, and I struggle to not close my eyes.
The stroke of his thumb on my lips has grown softer, and even though some of the anger has drained from his posture, it’s still bright behind his eyes.
“You started out thinking I was a conman, Miss Crane. Is that still your opinion?”
“Your clients don’t think you are.”
“My clients hardly know me.”
“Are you saying that you’re a bad person?”
He leans his forehead against mine. “I’m saying that everyone is someone’s monster, and I’m no exception.”
Again, a slew of questions flare up in my brain, but before I can articulate any of them, he goes over to pick up the table he assaulted.
“Go back to the party, Miss Crane. I’ll join you shortly.”
I want to stay with him, but I understand he needs some space in order to calm down. His broad shoulders are back to looking like he’s carrying the weight of the world on them, so I close the door and head back down the hallway to the ballroom.
It’s clear that as much as I think I know Max, he’s still a total stranger to me. For the sake of the truth, I’m going to have to fill in those blank spaces about his private life in the near future, by whatever means necessary.
* * *
“Do you think we’re strange creatures?”
I turn to see Vivian standing beside me as I watch the interactions in the room. “Excuse me?”
“The expression on your face is one of incredulity. Is it the decorations? The music? The people?”
