“That’s not the story I was told,” Casper countered, surprising her.
Squaring her shoulders, Courtney tried to pull herself together. “Well, I don’t know what story you were told.”
“Don’t play games with me, Courtney.”
“Dad…” Taking another deep breath, Courtney resigned herself to telling him as little as possible. Her objective was to get out of his office as quickly as she could, and the longer she put up resistance, the longer he would glare at her. “I met Max two years ago. On the op that you sent me on. To collect information when Max took over as second-in-command of the SBM. I provided what little information I managed to get. That’s it.”
“So you’re not involved with him?”
“No.” Not anymore.
She ignored the pang in her chest, the bottomless echo that continued to shake her when she thought about Max walking away. Never before had his exit been quite so … final.
“Courtney…” Casper thrust his hand through his graying hair, his gaze softening somewhat. “If there was something between you and Max…”
Finally grasping her resolve, Courtney faced her father head on. “I just told you I wasn’t seeing him. If you need information, I can get it for you.” It wasn’t the retort she should’ve come up with, but it was an automatic reaction.
She loved her parents. They’d always stood by her and her three brothers, supported them, loved them, encouraged them. But being that she was the only girl, Courtney had spent a good portion of her life dealing with the testosterone that ruled her house. At twenty-six, she didn’t need her father supervising her life or telling her who she could or could not spend her time with. And certainly not when it came to business.
She was an enforcer, an agent. As good as, if not better than, any of the men who worked there. She’d never failed, with the exception of infiltrating the SBM and the spoiled little rich girl, and even then, she didn’t consider the last one a failure. That girl… Well, if Courtney were completely honest, she’d needed help. Serious, professional help. The fact that Courtney was the one who’d called the cops, tipping them off to the drunk rich girl leaving the parking lot of the club, proved that the op hadn’t been a failure; it had, in Courtney’s opinion, been an intervention. Not that she intended to tell anyone that.
“You understand how dangerous this is?” Casper asked. “Max is dangerous. His father is dangerous. His entire family is—”
Pushing to her feet, Courtney stared back at her father, interrupting before he could continue. “I’m well aware of that. And I told you, I can do this.”
Casper’s facial expression didn’t change, but it rarely did. The man was the master at masking his emotions, and sometimes Courtney wished she was capable of the same. But she wasn’t built that way. Unfortunately, she was an open book, which she knew was the only reason her father continued to push her.
“I need more information this time,” he told her. “Real information, Courtney. I want to know what he’s workin’ on, who he’s workin’ with, where and when the guns and the drugs are being moved. What part Artemis intends to play in all of that. I don’t give a shit about anything but that.”
Courtney nodded. She understood completely.
“I’ve got things to do,” she told him.
When she reached the door, her father spoke again. “Courtney, I know what it’s like to be in love. When I was much younger, before I ever met your mother, there was…”
Courtney waited, staring at the door. Her father had never spoken quite so candidly about his own life, especially not about anything before he’d met Courtney’s mother.
“I know it can hurt at times,” he continued. “But you have to know that sometimes it’s best to move on, to forget the past.”
A surge of emotion came up her throat, threatening to choke her. She didn’t turn around, didn’t look at her father. “Just so we’re clear, I’ve never been in love.”
With that lie hanging in the air, Courtney stormed out of his office and made a beeline for the restroom. It was time she pulled herself together, because no matter what, she wasn’t going to let Max continue to haunt her. No matter what she thought she wanted, Courtney knew there were only three things that were true:
Their paths should’ve never crossed.
Their lives should’ve never mingled.
And most importantly, she should’ve never given him her heart.
But as with anything, life continued to move on, regardless of the devastation and destruction obscuring the path. She simply needed to move on with her life.
Chapter Twelve
Same shit … different day.
“Mr. Adorite, you have a visitor,” Leyton relayed when opening the door to Max’s office and sticking his head inside.
Max could hear the sound of the club below, the booming bass rumbling into the room as his head of security stared back at him. He didn’t mind the noise so much, but on busy nights, he rarely got the solitude he found when he hid out at the club during the week, and tonight proved to be no different.
Max lifted his eyebrow in question.
“Ms. Winslow. She says it’s important.”
Shit.
“Bring her in.” Max shoved the file folder he’d been reviewing into the top drawer and got to his feet at the same time the blonde sauntered into his office.
“Max,” she crooned as she moved across the room toward him, an unnecessary amount of sway in her narrow hips. As always, Angelica Winslow was dressed impressively, her highlighted blonde hair perfectly styled, makeup flawless, nails a blood red, and she’d ditched the atrocious perfume, opting for something … less offensive.
She looked every bit the viper Max knew her to be, despite the sweet innocence she still attempted to portray.
“Angelica,” he replied, accepting her hug when she approached. For the past couple of months, she’d been trying to schmooze her way into his life. Not that it had worked, but she seemed to believe they were making progress, so Max hadn’t bothered to tell her any different.
It was just easier that way.
Of course, that simple, polite gesture wasn’t taken as such by Angelica. She proceeded to draw her claws over Max’s neck, her smile venomous as she stared back at him.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said softly, seductively. “Pretty soon I won’t have to go so long without seeing you. I’ll be waking up in your bed every morning.”
Max ignored her statement. Unfortunately, she was right. About part of it, anyway. In a little more than a month, they would be married; however, he’d be damned if she’d be spending even one single night in his bed. It wasn’t going to work that way.
He’d made a grave mistake in the last few weeks. He’d vowed to stay away from her, never wanting to feel her hands on him, but then one night, he’d plied himself with enough liquor that he’d given in to his baser urges, suited up, and fucked her. From behind.
Right on his living room sofa, Max had fucked Angelica senseless. The entire time he’d pretended she was Courtney, pretended she was the woman he loved. When it was over that first time, he’d yelled at her, demanded her to go away, angry more with himself than anything. Not that she’d listened. Angelica had seemingly made it her mission to get closer to him.
Since then, he’d found himself taking out his sexual frustrations on her, although he had been extremely careful each and every time, using his own condoms, unwilling to let Angelica do something so stupid as to get pregnant just to get her way. He wouldn’t put it past her. Hell, he wouldn’t put anything past her.
He hated her with a growing passion, despised the sound of her voice, the touch of her hands, yet he had continued to give in, desperate to get past this devastating ache that had taken up residence in his chest. Not once had he fucked her without protection and never unless she was fully clothed and he was too. Never in his bedroom, either, but Angelica didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t even think she’d noticed that he refused to
look at her when he fucked her, preferring to take her from behind so he could pretend she was someone else.
Although it was strictly business, the poisonous woman who’d been working to get her claws into him seemed to believe at some point he would eventually change his mind.
That wasn’t going to happen.
Angelica was the type of woman any right-minded man would want to steer clear of. Then again, Max wasn’t in his right mind these days. For weeks on end, he’d immersed himself in business, focusing on the increase in shipments coming from Mexico, along with the land deals he had in the works, as well as the nightclubs that had needed his attention.
After the FBI’s raid nearly a year ago, on Devil’s Playground and a couple of the strip clubs he owned, he’d been forced to shut down for a while. He hadn’t spent a minute in jail, although the assistant US attorney had tried his damnedest to make the charges stick. It hadn’t taken long for that to clear thanks to his family’s endless connections, but it had required some extra effort to get business back to full capacity, and only in recent months had Max seen a shift into the black.
“Can I get you somethin’ to drink?” Max offered, taking Angelica’s wrists and removing her hands from his neck.
“I’ll take a scotch. Neat.”
Max motioned Leyton to retrieve the drink. He then urged Angelica toward the leather sofa. When she took a seat, he opted to sit opposite her.
“You said it was important,” Max relayed, hoping to get this over with and send Angelica on her way.
“My grandfather asked me to speak to you.”
Max sighed. Artemis Winslow was quickly becoming a serious pain in Max’s ass. For some reason, the man believed that he was the one calling the shots, as though Max were some sort of dancing monkey he could order around. Oddly, the man was becoming more persistent after every incident that occurred between Max and Angelica, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she was holding more of the reins than they were telling him.
“About?”
“The wedding.”
Oh, hell. “What about it?”
“He’d like to move the date up.”
Max lifted an eyebrow. Angelica might be used to lying her way through life, getting what she wanted because people were either too stupid to notice or they merely didn’t have the balls to stand up to her, but Max wasn’t falling for it.
“Is that so?”
“Yes.”
“So June isn’t soon enough?” he asked as Leyton delivered the drink, informing Max that he would be waiting outside.
Angelica shifted, her prim posture never wavering as she retrieved the glass. “Doesn’t appear that way. I tried to tell him that these things take time, but he wants to move forward now.”
To ensure Max didn’t back out, no doubt.
Max didn’t share his thought with Angelica. “And when would he like to see this take place?”
“May sixteenth.”
How very convenient.
He’d recently received an invitation to a wedding scheduled for that very day, the nuptials of Trace Kogan and Marissa Trexler. Being the glutton for punishment that he was these days, Max had actually RSVP’d, asking his sister Ashlynn to accompany him, something Angelica hadn’t been at all happy about. His choice to attend had been a completely selfish decision. The need to see Courtney again, even from a distance, had been more than he could bear.
“That date doesn’t work for me,” he told her, meeting her gaze.
Her blue eyes burned, her sweet façade slipping as she stared back at him. “You need to make it work for you.”
Max pushed to his feet. “No. I don’t.”
He wasn’t going to sit there and argue with her. He’d done enough of that for the past few weeks, trying to acclimate to Hurricane Angelica coming in and stirring shit up in a world that was already filled with plenty of chaos.
She slammed the glass on the table and stood.
“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Maximillian.”
Christ, he hated when she called him that.
Max slowly pivoted on his heel, dipping his hands into his pockets as he stared back at her. “In case you haven’t noticed,” he told her sharply, “you don’t call the shots. That’s not how this works.”
Angelica moved toward him, her eyes narrowed, her red lips pursed. “You’re wrong. I call all the shots.”
Max barked out a disbelieving laugh, only pissing her off more.
Angelica glared at him, pointing a red-tipped finger in his direction. “You forget who my grandfather is.”
“Oh, trust me, I remember,” he snapped.
“He’s got more power than you’ll ever dream of having,” Angelica spat. “And if you expect our families to work together, then you’ll need to come over to my way of thinking.”
Max considered her words for a moment. Locking his eyes with hers, he followed with, “It’s not happening.”
Angelica huffed. “I hate you.”
“Then why the hell did you agree to this in the first fucking place?” he roared, turning away from her.
“Why wouldn’t I?” she hissed. “An opportunity to marry into the notorious Adorite family. It’s every girl’s dream.”
Max hated the sarcasm, but he understood what Angelica was saying. He also knew—even though he truly believed she was using him and his family for her own ulterior motives—that there was a hint of truth in her statement, which was why he’d steered clear of this issue for as long as he could. The thought of an arranged marriage to Artemis’s granddaughter didn’t sit well with him, but there were opportunities that would come along with it. Not only the land. There were other things that could very well launch Max’s organization into an entirely different playing field, offering them significantly more territory to control, some that his family had longed to get their hands on, but also giving them a political stronghold that they could use as leverage in other aspects of their businesses. Max would admit, he was intrigued by the idea but, at the same time, put off.
He didn’t want to get married.
Not to this woman, anyway.
Her grandfather was the senator of the great state of Texas, a very powerful man, who, should Max keep their business options open, could be a tremendous asset to his organization. It had actually been Artemis’s idea for his granddaughter to marry into Max’s family, and engineered into a worthwhile plan by Max’s father, Samuel. Max was merely a byproduct of the grand scheme. Or so everyone believed.
However, he wasn’t stupid. The underhanded senator, and likely Angelica, was hoping to get a hand in Max’s business ventures, and by inserting himself—indirectly—into Max’s world, the other man felt as though he might be able to take control. Made sense based on the true nature of the US government, always wanting a little more control, always needing a little more power, never feeling the need to abide by the law.
Little did Artemis know, but Max had absolutely no intention of releasing even an ounce of his control. But the more thought he’d given to the suggestion, the more beneficial it had seemed. For him.
Before Max could say anything more, the door to his office opened and in walked…
“Sir. We…” Leyton’s eyes cut to Angelica briefly. “We have an incident that needs your attention.”
“Have Brent handle it,” Max instructed.
“Sir, it can only be handled by you.”
Max tried not to let his confusion show. He couldn’t think of a single thing that his younger brother couldn’t handle, but he took the opportunity for what it was.
“You need to go,” he informed Angelica, moving back to his desk. “We’re not changin’ the date. You can let your grandfather know, or I’ll be glad to call him myself. Your choice.”
Angelica snarled at him. “We’re not done with this conversation.”
“We most certainly are.” Max glanced up at Leyton. “Have someone take Angelica home.”
“Yes, sir.”
Ley
ton spoke into the microphone on his shirt as he escorted a very pissed off Angelica out of Max’s office. When he returned a moment later, Max stared back at him, waiting for him to tell him what was so goddamn important that he had to be…
“Sir. Courtney Kogan just arrived at the door.”
…interrupted.
Yes, that would certainly be a good reason.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
Chapter Thirteen
If only work could always be this entertaining.
Twenty months ago
Meet me at the club.
Courtney glared at the phone screen, a strange concoction of anger and desire raging inside her. Rather than give in to the longing that had seemingly taken control of her entire fucking life for the past four months, Courtney responded with:
No.
Tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her, she turned her attention back to the television.
She’d come home from work eager to sleep but found herself too wired. So, she’d made popcorn, grabbed her always handy bowl of M&Ms, the television remote, a glass of wine, and flopped onto the couch after putting on her pajamas.
Just as she got interested in the show again, her phone buzzed.
It wasn’t a request.
Tempted to throw her phone through the plate-glass window, she didn’t bother to pick it up. She wasn’t giving in to Max’s demands, no matter what her body wanted.
For the past four freaking months, she’d spent endless hours with the man, a majority of those naked with him buried balls deep inside her. They spent more time fucking than they did anything else, and now, she found herself ensconced in his world, seeing the nasty side and hating herself more and more each day because she couldn’t seem to find a way out. Actually, truth was, she wasn’t looking for a way out, and that concerned her deeply.
She didn’t have a problem with their physical relationship because she happened to enjoy the way Max fucked her. And she didn’t necessarily have to like him to enjoy the pleasure he could give her. But in the past couple of weeks, she’d noticed a change in him. Something was obviously going down, and he was keeping her on the outside as he’d always done, despite her every effort to infiltrate his organization.
Beautifully Brutal (Southern Boy Mafia #1) Page 11
