He shakes his head. “Not this time. I want to know what’s going
on with you.”
I shrug. “Sometimes I get flashbacks to my childhood. It’s no big
deal. I’m fine, really. Well, actually, not fine. I need to be close to you.
No games. Just you.”
Max’s brow furrows in consternation. He takes a deep breath and
shakes his head. “I don’t want to do anything to hurt you, baby.”
“You’re hurting me by not doing anything.” A groan tears through
me. “Please Max. I’m not going to run away this time.”
He draws in a ragged breath and kisses me softly before sheathing
himself. He grips my hips and enters me in one hard thrust. I arch up
my body to take more of him. I am so deliciously, completely filled.
“Ah, baby. So hot. So wet.”
I wrap my legs around him, holding him deep. My body trembles
with need. With a groan, he withdraws and then pushes forward, driving
into me. Faster. Harder. He gives me what I need. I build quickly, and
when my body stiffens, he slicks a finger over my throbbing nub and I
fall over the edge. Pleasure crashes over me, sweeping me up in a rush
of sensation so intense, a shriek rips from my throat. Max stiffens, and
his fingers dig into my hips. He comes with a roar, hard and fast and
deep inside me.
For the longest time neither of us moves. I am sated and warm with
Max lying on top of me. Finally, he pushes himself away to dispose of
the condom. When he returns he carries me to the couch, wraps me in
the blanket, and holds me in his arms.
“That’s twice, baby. Tell me what happened.”
“I don’t know,” I lie.
He stares into my eyes and shakes his head. “You do know. I can see
it in your eyes. Tell me. I’m here for you.”
I bury my forehead in Max’s chest and breathe in his scent of sex
and musk and soap. I don’t want to scare him away with my half-formed
memories or my troubled past. I don’t want to relive the nightmare. I
want to move on. Forward, not back. With Max.
“It’s nothing. It’s all new to me so I got a little scared.”
Max tucks his finger under my chin and tilts my head back. He
stares into my eyes and his smile fades. “I trust you, baby. I trust you to
tell me if there is something I need to know. The last thing I ever want
to do is hurt you.”
Funny. That’s what my father said before he threw me into the wall.
Chapter 18
**Frowns**
It’s Monday morning and Sergio is in a terrible mood. After we
exchange greetings, he snarls and growls about payments and due dates
until I cut him off.
“I thought you’d be happy I sent in the payment. You’re that
much closer to getting the Porsche.” I turn all the pens in my pen
holder to point up and mentally calculate the number of green slips it
might cost me.
“Unfortunately, your payment was insufficient,” he says. “I went
through the financial documents you sent me—rental agreement, bills,
expenses—and by my calculation, your monthly payment should be
higher.” He tells me how high. My hand flies to my mouth, knocking
over the pen box. A sea of pens washes over my desk. Points sideways.
“You’ve got to be kidding. I made a rough calculation myself. I
should be paying less not more. Your new payment leaves me without
money for rent, food, or expenses.”
Sergio sighs. “I’ll e-mail you my calculations. You’ll see I was
doing you a favor by asking for the minimum payment. Now I’m
forced to ask for more. This is what happens when you try to be too
clever, Ms. Delaney.”
“You can’t do that.” But already my brain is scrambling to find a
way out. Maybe Max will let me work at the club every night. Maybe
not. He’s already paying me way more than I’m worth.
“I can do anything I want.”
“I’m going to appeal,” I say. “I want to speak to your manager.”
“Go ahead. The appeal process is all set out on our website.” Shouts
echo on Sergio’s end of the line. Someone yells Code Blue.
“Are you at a hospital?”
Sergio growls and I hear a door slam. “Where I am doesn’t concern
you. The only thing that should concern you is paying me.”
“Sorry.” I immediately regret my curiosity. But why is he calling
from the hospital? Again? Something about this whole thing is
definitely off.
“I have to have that payment tomorrow, Ms. Delaney. Even if you
appeal today, it will take several days to process your request.”
“I’m going to call my friend. She’s a lawyer. She’ll tell me if what
you’re doing is legal.”
Sergio gives a bitter laugh. “Go ahead. Even if I’ve crossed the
line, what are you going to do? You don’t have the money to start a
lawsuit. And even if you find someone to take your case for free, it
will be at least a year, maybe two, before you get into court, by which
time the interest and penalties will have increased and your credit will
be ruined because the default will continue to show up on your credit
report. It’s a no-win situation for you, Ms. Delaney. No. Win. Just
pay the money.”
His last few words come out in a shout. So emotional. So unlike
the Sergio I’ve come to know. Where is the boredom? The professional
detachment? The compassion and humor?
“I thought we were friends, Sergio,” I whine. “Give me a week. I’ll
have the money.”
Sergio sighs. “I have spent more time talking to you than all my
debtors combined. I have bent over backward for you. I can’t do any
more than I have already.”
“Bend just a little further.”
“From what I know of you, Ms. Delaney, you wouldn’t pay the
price. You’re just a little too straight up. You play by the rules. You
don’t take risks.”
Straight up? After being with Max? I think not, but I’m not sharing
those thoughts with Sergio of all people.
“What does a joke buy me? I have a feeling you might be in need
of a joke today.”
The sound Sergio makes, almost like he is choking back a sob,
makes my heart lurch. He’s not himself. He’s in the hospital. Clearly
distressed. Already I know I’m going to regret what I’m about to do.
“You know what, Sergio. I’m going to tell you a joke anyway. If
you want to give me that extra week after I’m done, I’ll be very grateful.
But if not, I hope it brightens your day because it sounds to me like you
need some cheering up.”
He draws in a ragged breath. “You’re hard on my mind, Ms.
Delaney, and hard on my heart. You’re like the mythical debtor everyone
has heard about, but no one has seen. The debtor who sends presents at
Christmas and flowers at Easter. Pleasant, cheerful, accommodating—”
“Desperate and broke.”
Sergio sobs a laugh. “You have your week and you have bought
yourself some goodwill and a smile you can’t see. Tell your joke, Ms.
Delaney. You’re right. I could use some cheering up.”
I mentally
sift through my joke collection to find something that
will make him laugh. Aha. I have it. I take a deep breath. “A debt
collector parks his brand new Porsche outside his office to show off to
his colleagues—”
By the end of my day, I have filed an online complaint with his company,
yelled at a lady at the Education Commission who insisted they had no
record of my change of address, and called two consumer help agencies
who advise me Sergio has not done anything wrong. Amanda is in trial
but she promises she’ll look into the case as soon as the trial ends. The
Better Business Bureau and the Federal Trade Commission recommend
several avenues of appeal, but by the time I finish talking to them, I have
almost lost the will to live.
Thank God for Charlie. If he hadn’t covered for me while I ob-
sessed all day, I would have had a desk full of green slips and probably a
pink dismissal slip too.
The easiest solution would be to make the payments, and for that I
need a second job. Not so easy to get in this economic climate. I count
sixty-seven job applications in my outbox and sixty-seven correspond-
ing rejections in my inbox. My only hope is Redemption.
But can I ask Max for more work?
What if he asks why? I can’t tell him how bad the situation is. And
I don’t want him to think I’m interested in him only for his money or
that I’m using him to get a job. Still, the lure of working at Redemption
with Max and his fighters is hard to resist.
I swallow my pride and text Max.
....
Are u busy tonight? Need to talk to u
At work. Negotiating a deal. Might go late. Tomorrow?
Can’t wait
Should I be worried? **frowns**
Turn that frown upside down
Will send Lewis to pick u up. U can wait at my office
Looking forward to seeing ur office **jumps up and down**
Looking forward to seeing u **does not jump up and down because in meeting**
What should I wear 2 ur office?
Nothing
Naughty Max **shakes finger**
Hard Max **shakes something else**
**gasps**
That’s what I like to read
So…nothing? Seriously?
Nothing. Seriously
What about ur clients?
Will deal with clients
U r kidding right?
Max?
Max?
....
An hour later I step out of the elevator and into the offices of IMM
Ventures, situated on top of a historic building in the South of Market
neighborhood of San Francisco. I am greeted by the scent of lemon
polish and a sea of white, broken up only by the occasional exposed
brick wall and the wood beam ceilings. The furniture has none of the
features I usually associate with furniture. Chairs and couches lack backs,
arms, or cushions. Tables jut out from walls like planks from a pirate
ship. The reception desk appears to hover in midair. The last vestiges
of daylight filter through huge iron-latticed windows. It is minimalism
to the extreme.
A tall, willowy receptionist wearing a skintight red dress rises from the
floating desk to greet me. Her ultra chic blond bob swings gently as she
walks across the wooden floor on four-inch stilettos. Her face is so perfect
she doesn’t need makeup. Or maybe she’s wearing her makeup perfectly.
Regardless, she shouldn’t be here in Max’s office. She should be on a
runway somewhere preferably far away. Like Milan. Or maybe the Moon.
“Mr. Huntington asked me to stay until you arrived, Miss Delaney.”
Her smile is as cold as my heart. Why couldn’t he have hired a frumpy
receptionist with unkempt hair and a couple of extra rolls? Maybe a
mole on her cheek.
“Thank you for waiting.” We shake hands, my soft, warm fingers
closing around her long, bony ones. Her hand is so thin, I could prob-
ably break it with just one squeeze.
I imagine we say so much to each other with that handshake.
“So you’re the new girlfriend?”
“Hands off, bitch. He’s mine.”
“I’ve been after him for months. I don’t know what he sees in you.”
“I’m naked under this trench coat.”
“I’m not even worried. Look at you.”
“Completely naked. Except for these heels.”
“One month and he’ll come running to me.”
“Not after I take off this coat.”
“Or maybe, he won’t even wait.”
“I’m going to make him suffer first.”
“You’re hardly a threat. Sniff.”
“When I’m done with him, he won’t even know you exist.”
She breaks the shake first. “May I get you something to drink,
Miss Delaney?”
“No, thank you very much, I had a drink in the limo on the
way here.”
“May I take your coat?” She gives me a tight smile.
“It’s a bit chilly in here. I think I’ll keep it on.”
Pleasantries over, we share a glare and then she sighs.
“Well, I’ll be going then. Do make yourself comfortable. The meeting
is in the boardroom. You can see all the action from the reception area.”
We exchange farewells. I hope I never see her again.
I take a seat on the most uncomfortable bench I have ever had
the displeasure to sit on. The slab of cold, hard marble juts out from
the wall like a gigantic tongue. But it does give me a good view of the
glass-fronted boardroom. Max is sitting at a long, white table facing me.
He looks mouthwateringly hot in his blue shirt and red striped tie. An
assortment of suited businessmen are sitting on the other side of the
table facing him. How did he get six men to all sit on one side of the
table? Did he entice them with the view through the massive arched
window in the brick wall behind him?
Max glances up and his lips curve into a faint smile. Other than
that, he gives no indication he sees me.
My phone buzzes.
.....
Hi baby. I like your coat
Not my coat. Colton chose it. You paid for it. Lewis brought it to me
You’re wearing it
I didn’t think you were serious
When it comes to you, I’m always serious
When it comes to u, I’m always shocked
Are you undressed to play after the meeting?
Maybe. Maybe not
**frowns**
You’re cute when you **frown**
I stand up and stretch, letting my coat fall open just a tiny bit so he cansee what isn’t underneath.
You’re cute when you do as I say and sit on the bench until I’m done
Not tonight
**FROWNS**
....
He should frown. It is his game, but this time we’ll play by my rules.
Bondage ice-cream sex on the desk has loosened my inhibitions, and
tonight I’m going to fly.
Someone speaks directly to him, and he puts down his phone.
I wander around the reception area looking at…nothing. There is
nothing to divert the eye except the view. No pictures, no magazines, no
television, no area rugs. Like the restaurant, the focus is on the food—or
in this case, the work.
I glance over a
t the boardroom. Max is talking, but his eyes are on me.
Showtime.
My, it’s getting hot. I fluff my hair and lean against the cool brick
wall across from the board room. I unbutton the first button on my
trench coat and fan myself. Still hot. I unbutton the second button and
flap the coat to let cool air brush over my skin. No response from Max.
I slide my hand into the coat and cup my breast.
My phone buzzes. I struggle to repress a smile.
.....
What are you doing?
I’m hot
Turn down the heat. There’s a thermostat at Cindy’s desk
I like heat
AFTER the meeting
.....
Someone hands him a file folder, and he tears his eyes away. I saunter
over to Cindy’s desk facing the boardroom and perch on the front.
Hmmm. It’s a bit too high for comfort. I drag her chair around and sit
on the desk with one foot on the chair and one foot on the floor. I rest
my elbow on my thigh in Rodin’s “Thinker” pose. But I’m not think-
ing intellectual thoughts. I let my trench coat fall open, just enough to
reveal the shadow of my modesty.
My phone buzzes angrily. This is just way too much fun. Why did
I never do anything like this before?
.....
What the FUCK are you doing?
Pondering where the thermostat might be
It’s on the other side of the desk
Ooops. Silly me
.....
I slide off the desk and spin around. The thermostat is indeed on the
wall behind the desk. Why waste time walking around? I bend over
and lean across the desk. I spread my legs for balance. I flip up the
convenient back flap of the trench coat. Then I give a little wiggle. I am
a bad, bad girl.
BUZZ
I am laughing too hard to answer the phone.
BUZZ
Also, I can’t reach it in my current position.
BUZZ
I relent and push myself up. He is in a meeting after all. I should
really turn it down. Maybe he’s hot too. I check my messages.
......
STOP
STOP
STOP
....
I bite my lip to stifle my laughter and return his messages.
.....
Bad Max. Shouty caps hurt my ears
What the hell has gotten into you?
Sorry, couldn’t reach the thermostat
You’re going to be a very sorry girl when I’m done here
Against the Ropes Page 26