No Regrets: Jani Kay (Firebird Trilogy Book 2)

by Jani Kay

  I smiled up at Kurt. “I need to go now, to get ready for my journey. Walk with me?”

  He did. I kissed his cheek in the lobby, eager to get back to my apartment and pack my bags.

  Maxwell. My heart beat just a little faster whenever I thought about him. As much as I tried to ignore and suppress it, my stomach roiled and my heart twisted every time I pictured his face.

  Chapter 8 — Rebecca

  I’d worked on my speech during the eight-hour flight, but my mind kept drifting to Maxwell. I hadn’t seen him for weeks and I had to admit it bothered me. He’d left me in peace after I’d gone to Munich. No crazy requests or midnight calls. Somebody must’ve filled him in about my split with Alain. I appreciated that he kept his distance and respected my privacy.

  He’d called me a few times to discuss work related issues, but the calls were kept short and to the point, asking about my stay and how I’d settled in, and avoiding personal comments. So when he called to invite me to New York, it took me by surprise.

  Ready to move on, I couldn’t think of a better way to lift my spirits than to host a spectacular charity event at Maxwell’s side. Having been to a few over the months I'd worked for Grant Industries, the illustrious events were attended by the who’s who of society.

  At first, I thought they were over the top and a waste of money, until I realized how generous the donations were from those who supported Maxwell’s many causes. It was his way of thanking them for their support and raising even more awareness and money.

  Just as promised, Maxwell’s driver was waiting for me at arrivals. “Good afternoon, Miss Clarke. Welcome back to New York.”

  I smiled at James. Dressed in his usual uniform of all black, he was handsome in a roguish way. He’d told me with pride on previous trips that he was ex-marine and had served with Maxwell.

  “Hey, James. You look great,” I greeted, smiling.

  He laughed as he took my bags from me. “If I may say so, you’re looking pretty smoking, too. Have you been working out?”

  “It's that obvious, huh? Or did I just look that bad before?” I said as I slid into the front seat of the black SUV.

  James jumped in on his side and started the engine. I waited for him to get to the main road before I asked him about his girlfriend and daughter. We chatted like old friends as he weaved through the traffic.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked, noticing that we weren’t heading in the direction of Manhattan as I’d thought we would. On every previous trip I’d stayed at the Algonquin Hotel, which was close to the head office, so it was easy to freshen up before making an appearance.

  “I was told to bring you directly to the venue. Max said you can use the guest room there if you like.”

  “Thanks. I’ve been up since four thirty this morning. Caffeine will help, too.” I laughed, relieved that I’d be able to make myself presentable.

  “You wanted to see the set-up where the event will be held?” he asked.

  “That’s right. Then I can get the right vibe. I need to check that my outfit and speech match the occasion. I don’t want to embarrass my boss.”

  James chuckled. “Sounds like an exact science.”

  I inspected my nails. Fortunately I’d had them manicured and French tips applied only days ago and they still looked good. “No, it's more of an art, I’d say. To be just right takes skill and effort. Overdressed, and I look like a pompous arse; underdressed, and I get slain by the media for disrespect or bad taste, or whatever is the flavor of the day.”

  “I'm so glad I’m a man. All we need to do is put on a suit and show up. I’ve seen how long it takes Jessica to get ready sometimes.”

  I laughed. “Yep, I don’t think men have any idea how much work goes into looking good. A lot of thought and preparation is needed.”

  James shook his head. “And money. Boy, I’ve seen some of the price tags. You could feed the population of a small country for the price of a designer dress.”

  I had to agree. It was criminal.

  Ten minutes later, we pulled up to the gates of a triple-story mansion overlooking the river. James punched in a code to open the large gates. I stared out of the window in awe as we drove up the long driveway to the majestic mansion. Clearly Maxwell was well connected to have the use of this place for a function.

  Catering vans were parked out front with people bustling in and out. Whoever lived here had the best views of the city and the river. I was glad it was late afternoon as it would give me time to admire the gardens and the views before it got dark.

  James opened the door and helped me out of the SUV. I ironed my skirt with my palms, wishing I’d at least freshened up at the airport before we drove out here. I didn’t want to meet the owners looking disheveled.

  “Rebecca, you made it.” I’d recognized that deep voice anywhere. It was the same one that haunted my dreams.

  I swung around to see Maxwell at the top of the stairs, smiling like a goof. My heart skipped a beat as I took in his healthy tan and broad shoulders against the backdrop of the magnificent house.

  James had disappeared around the back of the house before I could ask about my luggage or what time he would drop me at my hotel.

  “Hello, Maxwell,” I said, smiling as I climbed the stairs. Thankfully, my eyes were hidden behind my sunglasses and he couldn’t see I was checking out his lean body. He looked relaxed, dressed in dark blue jeans and a button up shirt with an open collar and rolled up sleeves, his hair sexily ruffled.

  “Hey, you,” he rasped as I reached him, “you’re looking great. Flight okay?” The boyish Maxwell was sexy as hell and I had a hard time controlling myself not to reach out and straighten his hair. He pulled me into his arms for a hug.

  Just as I got comfortable in his embrace, taking in the singular scent that was Maxwell, he stepped back. “Come inside. Let me introduce you to the organizers. You have arrived just in time to make any changes you want as they are leaving soon.”

  “Oh, I'm sure they know what they’re doing. Where is the event being held?”

  Steering me inside with his hand under my elbow, I sensed his excitement. He was like a kid at Christmas, filled with energy and passion that only came from deep within. This Maxwell was fun to be around, unlike his bossy version I dealt with over the phone.

  If the entrance hall was anything to go by, the rest of the mansion would be spectacular. Consciously, I had to close my mouth so as not to gape and make a fool of myself.

  “Here we are. This is the ballroom. It opens up to the garden which will be fully lit up at night.”

  I sucked in a breath. The room was enormous, with dark wood paneling and chandeliers fit for a palace. Round tables of eight had been set with the finest porcelain and silver cutlery. The fragrance of flowers drifted on the air from the windows that had been thrown open to invite the outside in.

  “Like it?” Maxwell asked, eager to hear my opinion.

  “No,” I said, “Love it,” feeling as if I’d just stepped into a fantasy.

  Two women stood at a podium, deep in conversation as we approached. “Monica, Amanda? I'd like to introduce you to Rebecca. She’s just flown in from Europe. But don’t be shocked by her accent; she’s an Aussie.”

  Both women turned to face us, beaming at Maxwell.

  “Rebecca is our hostess for the event,” he said, his hand resting in the small of my back. A shiver ran up my spine at the intimate touch.

  Their eyes turned cold as they shifted their gazes to me. Here we go. The cold limp handshakes and false smiles. I braced myself, smiling politely as I shook their hands, pretending I wasn’t put off by their lack of enthusiasm.

  I’d grown used to this whenever I was around Maxwell. It was as if the whole female population’s ovaries went into overdrive when he was around. Competition was fierce for his attention. Weren’t they bothered that he was married? Or was I the only fool?

  “Maxwell, I need a minute of your time,” Monica cooed as she laid a hand
on his arm and pulled him to one side. The tall blonde pulled out all the stops, playing with her hair as she fluttered her eyelashes and dropping her pen so he had to bend down to pick it up for her.

  Amanda snorted, giving her rival the death stare. Holy hell, I thought this was about charity. Instead of talking to me, Amanda focused her attention on them, ignoring me completely. A minute later, she’d worked out a strategy to snatch Maxwell away.

  I watched Monica’s face drop as Amanda swooped in and dragged Maxwell outside. She’d hooked into his arm, pressing her breasts against him as she laughed up at him. Monica seethed, clicking her heels on the hardwood floor as she followed them outdoors. Great.

  I used the opportunity to search for the kitchen. Let them fight over Maxwell while I found something to drink. I followed the smell of food, walking into a state-of-the-art kitchen.

  James was leaning against the breakfast bar, drinking a coffee.

  “Miss Clarke.” He smiled as I walked toward him.

  “Call me Rebecca. And I'd kill for a coffee.”

  “Sure, I’ll get you one. Milk?”

  “Yes, please. I haven’t had a caffeine fix since I left and the time difference is messing with my body clock.”

  I watched as he operated the flash coffee machine, even frothing the milk. He handed me the cup and I sat on the barstool next to him.

  “Where’s Max?” he asked.

  I laughed. “Otherwise occupied with the organizers. They swooped in on him as soon as we walked in. I guess they have a lot to talk about.”

  James and I grew comfortable, chatting away from where we’d stopped our previous conversation. “You make a great coffee, James. Thanks,” I said, draining my cup.

  “My pleasure. I like talking to you.” He took the empty cup from my hand.

  “Likewise,” I replied, smiling up at him.

  A movement at the doorway caught my eye. Maxwell. Alone. I looked up into stormy eyes. “So this is where you disappear to when I turn my back.” He clenched his jaw, all signs of the happy-go-lucky Maxwell gone.

  I shrugged. “You were busy and I was thirsty.”

  James chuckled. “Another coffee, Rebecca?”

  “No thanks, James. I won’t be able to sleep if I overdose on caffeine now. But that one hit the right spot. I'm feeling a lot better.”

  Maxwell’s eyebrows knitted together. He cleared his throat and glared at James.

  “Okay, I’ve got stuff to take care of. Catch you later?” James said as he picked up his sunglasses from the counter and made his way out of the back door.

  Maxwell watched him leave, then took a step closer to where I sat, invading my personal space. His body heat radiated off him and his scent snaked its way up my nostrils, making my knees go soft. I stared at my hands in my lap as if I'd never seen them before. “Hmmm, first name terms with my security guy isn’t a good idea, Rebecca.”

  “Why not? James is a great guy.”

  He gripped my wrists. “Because I said so. I don’t want you giving James any signals.”

  I sucked in a breath. “Signals? What are you talking about?”

  “I saw the way he smiled at you. You’re a sexy woman and I don’t like the way you’re friendly with him.”

  Narrowing my eyes, I glared at him for a moment. “Are you serious? You leave me by myself while those two women fight it out over you and you have the cheek to say that to me? I’ll be friendly with whomever I want. James and I are both lowly employees of Grant Industries, so there’s nothing wrong with being friends,” I huffed. Nobody was going to dictate to me who I could or couldn’t be friends with. Especially not my boss. It was none of his damn business.

  I slid my arse off the stool and walked back to the ballroom. “Let's talk about what you need me to do tomorrow night at the event so I can get back to my hotel room. I’m tired and I need a shower.”

  He caught up to me with long strides. “Rebecca, you’re testing my patience. You haven’t been here half an hour and already you’re running off.”

  The ballroom was empty. “Where are the organizers? I thought we had a meeting when they were done with you?”

  “I sent them off. Everything is taken care of. I wanted to speak to you. Alone.”

  I quirked an eyebrow at him. “Oh, yeah, is that right?”

  “Yes. I have dinner set up in the dining room. James has taken your bag to a guest room on the first floor where you can freshen up.”

  “Ummm, the owners won’t mind?” He wants to talk to me alone. My promise to Jade flashed through my mind. It couldn’t be that hard to just listen to the man.

  “Not at all. Make yourself at home. There’s no one else here tonight except us and a few staff members, so relax, okay?”

  I shrugged, too worn out to argue further. “Okay, you’re the boss.”

  Maxwell chuckled, his charm and good humor slowly returning. “Yes, I am. And you’ll be smart to remember that.”

  Cocky bastard.

  “Shall I ask James to show me to the guest room?” I asked as if sugar wouldn’t melt in my mouth.

  “Like hell. Come, follow me.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up the stairs, then to the left until we came to the end of the hallway. Thank God I was fitter; keeping up with his energy and long strides was exhausting.

  Maxwell glanced at his watch. “I’ll give you an hour to freshen up. I have some business to attend to before dinner, but then we need to talk. I have something important to discuss with you. It can't wait.” His serious expression caused my heart to stall for a moment. His piercing eyes bored into mine, the weight of his words pressing down on me.

  Panic took over my fatigued brain. Was it personal or work related? Whatever it was, it sounded urgent. Ominous.

  My heart fluttered at the thought of being alone with the man. Jade’s request and my decision to suspend judgment and give Maxwell a chance to explain himself were about to happen.

  My mouth went dry, so I simply nodded before closing the door without a word.

  Do I really want to know? What I didn’t know couldn’t hurt me.

  I leaned with my back against the door and closed my eyes.

  A tiny seed of doubt planted itself in my mind.

  Maybe I was reading too much into it. Maybe he only wanted to talk about the event. But I couldn’t help hoping it would be more—that I would have the opportunity to see into what made Mr. Grant tick.

  Chapter 9 — Maxwell

  Keep control, Max, don’t lose it now.

  I turned on my heels and left Rebecca in the guest room. If I stayed a minute longer, I wouldn’t be able to hold myself back. I wanted to smother her with kisses and tell her everything would be okay. The way she stared at me, her green eyes melting into mine, her lips parted as she tried to make meaning out of my words, made my cock twitch and my insides tremble with need.

  We needed to talk first.

  It was important for our future.

  I changed into running gear and went for a run around the estate to clear my mind and burn off the adrenaline that coursed through my body. James drove past me and waved. He was a good man, but I didn’t want him at the house during our talk.

  Thirty minutes later, sweating like a motherfucker, I stepped into the shower to get ready for the rest of my evening. I hummed as I washed my body, nervous energy still running through me. It was make or break with Rebecca. I couldn’t fuck this up.

  Wanting to be comfortable and relaxed, I slipped into clean jeans and a white button-down shirt, rolling up the sleeves to my elbows. Everything had to be just right—I set off to the kitchen to check. Giovanni, in my opinion one of the best chefs in New York, had come to the house specially to make his famous Italian pasta dish and I’d arranged for Mrs. Roberts to set the table for two.

  “Giovanni, the food smells delicious as always,” I complimented as I patted his back in greeting. His moustache lifted at the corners at the same time as his lips. Deep crinkles formed at the edges of his eyes
.

  “Maxwell, for you, cooking is always a pleasure.” In spite of having moved to the US more than twenty years ago, his Italian accent was unmistakable.

  I checked the bottles of wine in the fridge. “Which one do you recommend for that dish?” I held up two bottles. He squinted his eyes to read the labels and laughed.

  “Either is good. It's not the vintage of wine that’s important, Max. It's the company you share it with.”

  I chuckled at his wisdom. He was a hopeless romantic and not ashamed to admit it.

  “You’re right. The lady dining with me tonight is very special.”

  “Ah, bellissima,” he exclaimed, looking over my shoulder.

  I spun around to see Rebecca standing in the doorway. Her beauty took my breath away. Dressed in a simple top and skirt, her hair flowing down one side of her shoulder, she’d never looked lovelier.

  “Good evening,” she greeted Giovanni. “Seems like this is where all the action is.” Her shy smile melted my heart.

  “Ah, Max, you didn’t tell me your lady is this beautiful.” He left his cooking and came to kiss Rebecca’s hand.

  “Easy, Mr. Italiano. This one is taken. All mine.”

  “I don’t blame you, Max, for being jealous. I would be too if she was mine.”

  Rebecca pulled her hand away from Giovanni’s lips, her eyes wide as she shifted her gaze to me. “Dinner is nearly done. Mrs. Roberts has set the table in the dining room, so we’ll go in there. Don’t be long, my friend. I think Rebecca may be hungry.”

  Nodding, she laughed. “I haven’t had a decent meal all day.”

  Giovanni tutted, shaking his head. “Max, I hope you will bring your lovely lady home to dinner more often?”

  “That’s the plan, my friend.”

  “Home?” she asked. “This is your home, Maxwell? I thought you lived in Manhattan?”

  “I do. This was my adoptive parents’ house where I came to live when I was fifteen. They downsized to a smaller place two years ago and gifted it to me, insisting I inherit this house that held my happier childhood memories.” I lowered my eyes to the ground as flashes of those days ran through my mind. “I admit, as much as I love it, I don’t use it often.”