Beautifully Brutal (Southern Boy Mafia #1)

by Nicole Edwards

  She hoped it didn’t, but she had every intention of getting him to notice that she was back.

  “A few times,” she told her friend. “You?”

  “Nope. First time,” Jayden answered.

  “Brace yourself.”

  The sounds of the club reverberated off the narrow walls, the sensual thump of the bass infusing Courtney’s blood. The visual stimuli came next as they walked into the multi-floor, cavernous space. Above them, along the outer walls, were hundreds of scantily clad bodies lined up around metal railings, while down on the main floor, hundreds more.

  They were packed tonight.

  “This is hot,” Jayden said, a wide smile on her pretty face.

  “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

  It took some time to venture over to one of the many bars, but they finally managed, squeezing through the hordes of writhing bodies. The musky scent of sweat and sex mixed with the sharp odor of cigarettes and booze, making Courtney’s head throb. It didn’t help that the music was so loud she could hardly hear herself think.

  They stood beside the bar, waiting their turn while they surveyed the crowd.

  Ten minutes had passed before the bar cleared enough for them to approach, and when they did, two men standing close by offered to buy their drinks. Courtney considered the repercussions of the evening should Max actually be there and find her accepting a drink from a stranger. And just as quickly, she blew it off. Max was getting married, so why the hell would he care if she was being hit on by another man?

  “What’ll it be, doll?” the dark-haired man, who had introduced himself as Jordan, asked, his dark eyes raking over Jayden slowly.

  Jordan and Jayden. Now that was a serious tongue twister.

  Jayden smiled, a seductive tilt of her lips. “Jack and Coke.”

  “And for you?” Jordan’s blond friend, Michael, asked Courtney directly.

  “Fireball and RumChata,” she said, trying not to look around when she felt eyes on her.

  Michael’s lips twisted, and Courtney knew what was coming. There were two different names she’d heard for that particular drink: cum shot or cinnamon toast crunch. She wondered which he would request.

  “Jack and Coke and a Cinnamon Toast Crunch for the ladies,” Michael requested when the bartender made his way down to their end of the bar. “And two Coronas.”

  He’d picked the sweet route. Nice.

  Rather than agree, the bartender met Courtney’s gaze and then nodded his head toward something over her shoulder.

  She turned, coming face to chest with… “Leyton.”

  Shit.

  “Mr. Adorite would like to see you in his office,” the massive man informed her, leaning in so that she could hear him.

  Well, that answered the question of whether or not Max was there.

  When Leyton stood to his full height again, she met his celadon-green eyes. “I’m not here to see him, but thanks for the offer,” she lied.

  Getting close to Max was the plan, but Courtney knew she had to play it safe. If she seemed overeager, he’d know what she was there for. After all, things hadn’t gone well the last time they’d seen one another.

  Leyton didn’t budge, peering down at her with a frown on his handsome face. “You know I can’t go back and tell him that.”

  “Is there a problem?” Michael asked, inserting himself closer to Courtney as though he knew her well.

  Luckily, Jayden and Jordan were deep in conversation a few feet away. “It’s fine,” she told him. “Just an old acquaintance of mine. He was just … leaving.”

  Turning her back on Leyton, she pretended to give Michael her full attention while trying to ignore the bodyguard now fuming behind her.

  “Courtney,” Leyton drawled out, leaning in closer.

  Michael’s eyes lifted to Leyton’s, a predatory gleam in his blue eyes.

  Knowing the situation could only get worse, Courtney placed a hand on Michael’s arm. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

  Turning to face Leyton, she glared at him, slapped her hand on his arm, and pulled him toward a fairly empty corner. Courtney weighed her options as she squeezed by a couple making out against the wall. She could go with Leyton, pretend she was put out that Max was showing his hand, or she could refuse to go, which would only incite Max’s anger and likely bring him down to the floor.

  She decided to go with option two.

  “Honestly, I’m not here to see Max,” she told him. “And I don’t want to bother him, so do us both a favor and pretend I’m not here.”

  “Too late,” Leyton told her. “Boss already knows you’re here.”

  “Damn it,” she exclaimed. “Why’d you go and do that?”

  “If you didn’t want Max up in your business, why’d you come here, Courtney?” His tone reflected his frustration, but based on the cool expression on his face, they could’ve been talking about the weather for all anyone knew.

  “I’m here with my friend,” Courtney explained. “Girls’ night.”

  “And the guy who’s eye fucking you from the bar?” Leyton questioned harshly.

  “Don’t know him, but he seems like a nice guy,” she said, glancing over her shoulder and offering Michael a wave and a smile.

  “He’s a nice dead guy if Max sees you with him, Courtney.”

  Yeah, well…

  “I didn’t come to argue; I didn’t come to see Max. So if you don’t mind, I’m just gonna go back to the bar and mind my own business.”

  Without waiting for a response, Courtney returned to the bar, standing beside Michael but making sure not to touch him. Leyton hadn’t been exaggerating when he’d said that Michael was as good as dead if Max saw him touching her. Regardless of whether or not Max cared about her, he’d always considered her a possession. And Max Adorite didn’t share. At all.

  The bartender chose that moment to bring their drinks. In an attempt to save Michael some bodily harm, Courtney placed two twenties down, but he refused to take it. Without looking behind her, she knew that Leyton was instructing him not to take her money.

  Rather than argue, she slipped the bills back into her purse and turned to survey the crowd.

  Pretending Leyton wasn’t still hovering behind her, Courtney focused her attention on Michael. It was too loud to actually have a conversation, so she simply smiled and took a sip of her drink. His gaze continued to bounce between her and the big guy standing less than a foot away.

  Leyton Matheson, all six foot four inches of him, was a menacing man. Handsome with his dirty-blond hair, bright green eyes, and chiseled jaw, he had an air of danger about him. Then again, he was Max’s head enforcer, so that seemed logical.

  Didn’t mean that Courtney was going to allow him to intimidate her.

  “Ignore him,” she told Michael, having to yell for him to hear her.

  “He’s just gonna come down here,” Leyton explained, stepping closer.

  Courtney peered up at him over her shoulder. “I’m sure he’s got more important things to deal with,” she replied. “Doesn’t he have a wedding to plan or somethin’?”

  The moment the words were out of her mouth, she knew they sounded childish and petty, but truth was, she couldn’t help it. As soon as she’d learned that Max was getting married, Courtney had punished herself by digging up as much detail as she could. Pictures of the happy couple, articles regarding their pending nuptials, interviews showing how content the two of them were… That little dirt-digging session had ended with Courtney puking her guts up and fighting off tears.

  Your own fault.

  Yes, or so her subconscious continued to remind her.

  “He’d call it off in a minute if you’d take him back,” Leyton stated, his mouth close to her ear.

  Courtney’s eyes widened as she looked up at him. “So, he doesn’t…?” Love her? She couldn’t bring herself to say the words aloud.

  “Sometimes he has to do things, Courtney. Even you should know that.”


  For whatever reason, that didn’t make her feel any better.

  “You wanna dance?” Michael asked, clearly frustrated by her having a conversation with Leyton.

  Turning to face him, she shook her head. “Not yet. Give me a few minutes?”

  Unfortunately, Jayden had other plans, and Courtney looked up in time to see her friend following Jordan out to the dance floor.

  Crap.

  “I’ll take it from here.”

  Courtney heard Max’s gravelly voice before she saw him, and her body reacted instinctually, her respiration slowing, her heartbeat speeding up.

  The next thing she knew, Leyton was gone, and Max was standing in his place. Courtney’s mouth went dry; her palms began to sweat as she stared up into his golden eyes.

  “Why are you here?” he asked, moving impossibly close to her.

  She figured that was because it was hard to hear with the music, the bass, and the conversation taking place around her, but even then, she found herself wanting to get away. To protect herself from what this man was capable of doing to her.

  “Can’t a girl enjoy the nightlife without having a reason? Maybe I like to dance,” she countered.

  “So why aren’t you then?” he snarled, nodding toward Michael.

  “Thirsty,” she said simply, holding her drink up for him to see.

  “Do you two know each other?” Michael asked, leaning in close to Courtney, his hand resting on her shoulder.

  Aww, hell.

  Max’s gaze instantly zeroed in on the spot where Michael touched her, and she felt the anger bubbling up from inside him.

  She quickly shrugged Michael’s hand off, turning to face Max fully. “Don’t. Don’t do this here.”

  As though planned, the song that was playing faded away, and in its place came a much slower, much sexier beat. Without asking her, Max reached for her drink, taking it from her and setting it on the bar before he took her hand in his.

  His touch sent electrical impulses firing up her arm, through her body, and ending in a deep, sensual throb between her legs.

  When common sense returned and she tried to pull her hand from his, Max tightened his grip as he led her into the mass of bodies. Once they were situated with the others, he jerked her up against him, grinding his hips against hers.

  “Put your arms around my neck,” he ordered, his voice harsh and loud in her ear. “And if you want that asshole to walk out of here in one piece, you won’t so much as look his way.”

  All thought fled, and Courtney found herself doing as he asked, ringing his neck with her hands, inhaling the seductive, intoxicating scent of him.

  Their bodies began a slow, sensual grind, touching from chest to knee. Max’s hand slid down her back, then down farther, firmly cupping her ass as he roughly jerked her against him.

  “You shouldn’t be here,” he warned, anger dripping from his words.

  “I didn’t come to see you.”

  His head pulled back slightly, far enough that he could look into her eyes, and Courtney knew he saw the lie for what it was. How could he not? She was eagerly pressing against him, wanting to absorb him into her skin, to hold him there for eternity. Anything to fill that emptiness inside her, the one that had tripled in size every time she walked away from him.

  “Liar.”

  Courtney swallowed hard, mesmerized by the golden glow of his eyes, intensified by the strobe and colored lights flashing around them. They were repeatedly pitched into darkness only to be lit up again. But Courtney didn’t need the light to see the intensity in his gaze. She could feel it.

  Max’s erection dug into her hip as he ground himself against her, squeezing her ass as he kept her body aligned with his. She could hardly breathe for wanting him, but she knew that was stupid.

  He was…

  Reality broke through the haze of lust, and Courtney pushed him, forcing him away from her as she took a cautious step back, their gazes still locked.

  “You’re getting married,” she bit out.

  Max didn’t respond, but she saw the fury that warred inside him. He took her hand and pulled her, forcing her to follow him across the floor.

  “Max! Stop!” she yelled, but it was useless; he wasn’t listening to her.

  When they reached a set of doors, manned by two big guys, she knew she should turn around, run the other way as fast as she could because being alone with Max was only going to prove to be disastrous. For both of them.

  “I can’t leave my friend,” she told him abruptly, making one last-ditch effort to pull away from him.

  “Find her friend,” Max ordered one of the men. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

  “Yes, sir,” the bigger of the two men said dutifully.

  He didn’t release his hold on her wrist as the two men pushed open the doors and allowed them through. The chaotic noise coming from the club was muted when the doors closed behind them. She expected him to take her up the set of stairs on her right, the one that led to his office, but he didn’t. He kept a firm grip on her arm and led her down the hall, deeper into the bowels of the building until they reached another set of doors.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, once again trying to pull away.

  “My penthouse,” he snapped.

  “But you don’t live here,” she retorted.

  “Consider it my home away from home.”

  “Why did I never know about this place?” she asked, trying to understand how they’d dated for a solid year, come to the club on more than one occasion, yet she’d never been invited to his home away from home.

  “It was … recently acquired,” he informed her, his tone gruff.

  Courtney followed in silence as they walked through a narrow tunnel that seemed to be endless, and she realized they were leaving the nightclub and heading into another building entirely. They ended up in front of another door, this one locked. Max entered a code into the panel on the wall, along with his fingerprint, and the lock disengaged.

  Once through the door, things got interesting.

  Gone were the concrete walls and floor, and in their place was an elegantly furnished area with a glass table topped with a giant flowering plant, and plush black carpeting laid out before a chrome-trimmed elevator. There was only one button on the wall, as well as inside the elevator.

  Once they were sealed inside the steel box, Courtney tried not to fidget, refusing to look at Max although that was easier said than done since the walls of the elevator were all mirrored.

  Max ushered her out when the doors opened, and they were greeted by another mammoth in a suit, this one clearly armed to the teeth. He was standing in a hallway, watching a monitor that appeared to show him a view into the elevator as well as the lobby area on the bottom floor.

  The lone door in the hall was open, and Max urged her forward, his hand on the small of her back once again.

  It was then that Courtney knew they weren’t just there for a simple conversation.

  Chapter Fifteen

  What he wouldn’t give for a view like this all the time.

  It was all Max could do to keep from pulling Courtney into his arms and crushing his mouth to hers. He’d been stupid for dancing with her, feeling her body moving with his, her fingers caressing his neck, the warmth between her legs against his thigh, but he’d had no choice.

  Either that or he would’ve strangled the fucker who’d put his hand on her as though he actually had a right to touch her. The instant Max had seen her talking to the other guy, he’d been blinded by rage, ready to pull out his gun and kill the bastard where he stood.

  “Why didn’t we go to your office?” she asked now, glancing around the penthouse.

  “This gives us more privacy,” he told her simply, making his way to the wet bar, trying to calm himself. He needed a drink, something to take the edge off, because the instant he’d learned that Courtney was in the club, he’d been close to losing it. It’d only gotten worse when he’d realized she h
adn’t been alone.

  “We don’t need privacy,” she insisted.

  Max didn’t bother to argue with her as he proceeded pouring their drinks.

  Courtney strolled through the open living area, moving to the wall of windows that overlooked the city. Beyond the glass, blanketed in inky darkness was the Bank of America Plaza building, outlined in green, along with the Renaissance Tower, with its well-known X of lights. Just behind those was the uniquely designed I.M. Pei’s Fountain Place, which Max actually found more intriguing during the day than at night.

  The building he now occupied was actually the home of numerous companies that conducted their business in the bustling city. It hadn’t been easy—at least not until the owner had realized who he was up against—but Max had managed to convince the man to sell him the top three floors for his personal use. He’d converted two of them to office space—merely a front for his land business—and the top floor to his own private retreat.

  Not that he was ever there. He’d never brought anyone back to the penthouse—certainly not Angelica—and only used it on the rare occasion he was conducting business late into the night. However, it’d been designed with Courtney in mind, proof that he’d never be over her, never be able to completely let her go.

  The entire space was monochrome—the black, white, and metal décor expensive—with enough furniture to make it feel lived in but not so much that Max felt claustrophobic. He’d had a Jacuzzi tub installed in the bathroom because he knew how much she’d enjoyed using the one in his house. He’d even gone so far as to purchase several framed images of Marilyn Monroe, including one that was autographed, costing him nearly forty grand. He still remembered their conversation.

  “What’s with the fascination with Marilyn Monroe?” he asked her.

  Courtney glanced up at the framed photos above her couch.

  She shrugged. “She’s … real. There’s something about her. You can see it in her eyes. It’s almost as though she’s haunted but happy. As though she’s come to terms with who she really is. I guess I admire that.”