by Liz Fox
In the kitchen, I fix a sandwich and grab a bottle of water. I try not to eat too fast, but that bathtub is calling my name. The only thing that slows me down is looking for Max’s stash of wine. When I can’t find it after five minutes of searching, I give up on the wine and decide to drink something else. If I remember correctly, he has a small bar in his office. Bingo. Moments later, I’m carrying a bottle of expensive scotch into my bathroom.
Shortly thereafter, I’m soaking in the most luxurious bath of my life. The hot water and scotch keep me relaxed and warm. I could stay in this bath for hours. Unfortunately, I don’t know when Max will get home and I want to check on the kittens one more time before I go to sleep.
My fingertips have barely started to wrinkle when I exit paradise. Feeling clean and calm, I put on my comfy pajamas, which consist of just a tank top and thin cotton pants. Bringing the scotch with me, I decide to prolong the evening. The kittens won’t mind if I have another drink.
The kittens are still adorable. The unfinished library is the perfect place to stash them. I brought some toys with me, and one of the tortoiseshell kitties learns how to play fetch. Time after time, I throw a fabric mouse, watching as she runs after it. After a minute of batting it around, she brings it back and drops it at my feet.
I pick her up for a kitten cuddle. “I think we’ll call you Cali, sweet girl. What do you think?” She’s easy to distinguish from her sister because she’s a toe baby, with seven toes on each front paw. She licks my finger and then wiggles out of my arms, heading straight for her toy.
The other tortoiseshell kitten finds me and bats my arm, demanding attention and her own play time. “You look like an Eva.” She turns up the volume on her purr as I run my fingers under her chin.
I hold off on naming the black kitten. She and Paige had a special connection. I’ve always had an instinct when it comes to animals finding their humans, and I’m pretty sure Paige will want to name this little girl herself.
After checking their water and food, and enjoying one last sip of scotch, I head toward Max’s office to return the bottle. The sun has gone down, leaving most of the hallways in shadows. I’m about to place the bottle on the bar when I realize something is different. A lamp is on in the corner. I turn slowly. Maxmillian sits silently in a chair, eyes locked on me.
“I’d been wondering where that disappeared to.” He stands and approaches until he’s looming over me, his features sharp and dangerous in the shadowed room. He reaches around me, taking the bottle from my hand. He doesn’t step back. In fact, he seems to get closer as he uncorks the bottle and takes a swig, his gaze burning into mine the entire time.
“I ran into your brother tonight. We had a chance to catch up. Our conversation was illuminating.” His jovial voice belies the dark intensity of his expression. “Apparently, you took the job as my personal assistant as a ‘favor’ to him. That until he pressed the issue, you didn’t even want to work for me. Is that true? Did you only take this job because your brother asked you to?” Max seems angry. He also seems like he’s already had a bit to drink. So have I. This could be a dangerous combination.
“That’s right,” I reply, hesitant to provoke his temper.
“Brilliant. Just brilliant. Millions of people would die to be in your position, licking my boots to get my approval. But not you. Isn’t that right, Sloane? You’re going to school to be a veterinarian and save all the animals.” The derision in Max’s voice cuts like a knife. He must see the pain in my eyes, because he finally steps back.
I’ve never seen him like this. Like a vicious tiger, Max paces the length of the room, all grace and muscle. He glares at me, hints of gold reflected in his fiery brown eyes. He’s absolutely captivating, fury and power in motion.
Even though it scares the dickens out of me, my body responds to his strength and heat gathers in my core. That’s when I notice the top buttons of his shirt are undone and his sleeves are rolled up, exposing tanned skin over firm muscles. His five o’clock shadow gives him a sinful appearance that makes me want to get on my knees and beg him to release his passion onto me.
“You have no ulterior motives.” My skin flushes and my mouth dries as he stops in front of me. The gravelly tone of his voice sends shivers down my spine.
“Well, no.” My eyes flick from his lips to his eyes and back again. “Liam asked me to do it. He’s my brother and his friend needed some help.”
“And you cleaned the toilets, not for the money. Not for the connections.” He resumes his pacing while eyeing me with suspicion. “You showed up today only because I requested your presence and you are fulfilling the responsibilities of your employment.”
“I’m not sure what you’re implying.” Actually, I’m pretty sure I know exactly what he’s saying, but I’m giving him an out. God knows why. “I’m here because I said I’d do the job. I cleaned the toilets because you told me to—at least that first day. If you’d given me those orders again, I’d have turned and walked away. But you must have known that, because on Tuesday you gave me new responsibilities.”
His eyes search mine, fierce and intense. Like he’s trying to uncover any truths that I might be concealing. All that cynicism, wrapped up in such a beautiful man. It turns me on and makes me tired at the same time.
“If that’s it, I’m going to go to bed.” I walk away, barely noticing the plush rugs under my bare feet.
I pause at a landing halfway up the stairs, running through the past fifteen minutes in my mind. With my thoughts distracting me, Max approaches me from behind.
He grabs me at my waist, spinning me around until my back meets the wall. My breath catches and my heart hammers wildly in my chest. He molds his muscular body to my own softer curves.
He rubs his thumb over my bottom lip, the gentleness of his hands in direct contrast to the harsh behavior from a moment before. I stare into his eyes, compelled by my own curiosity and the hunger in his gaze.
“You’re so goddamn beautiful.” He growls before lowering his lips to mine. I gasp, and he uses that to sweep his tongue into my mouth, claiming it. Devouring it. He isn’t holding back. It’s pure need, carnal and dark.
He holds my head, keeping me still as he kisses me. My knees weaken, and it’s a good thing he’s propping me up because arousal has turned me into a wet, shaking mess. He pulls away from my lips, only to drag his mouth along my jaw and up to my ear.
“I hate that you do this to me.” His hands roam over my body, pulling it closer to his own. His lips tickle my skin as he whispers in my ear. “I hate that you are so composed, while I’m losing control.” He licks the rim of my ear. “I hate that you are nothing like I expected, and everything I want.”
His lips trail down the side of my neck, nipping and sucking. I struggle to catch my breath through the tempest of heat roaring through me. A tiny, errant thought slips in my mind and I grasp onto it like a lifeline, using it to keep desire from overtaking my rational mind.
As the thought comes into focus, I retreat from the embrace. Max must sense the change in emotion, because he kisses me once more on the lips before stepping back. The hooded look of desire in his eyes almost has me asking for another kiss. But now that it’s taken hold, I can’t get the question out of my mind. I have to know.
“Max,” I say his name, as serious as I’ve ever been. “Did you think I was trying to use you for your money?”
He doesn’t even have to speak. I can see the answer in the flare of acknowledgement in his eyes.
My head shakes from side to side, almost unconsciously. No, that can’t be right. I haven’t done anything to deserve his suspicion. But I can see the hint of regret in his expression, the admission in his posture. A wave of sadness sweeps through me, dousing the passion like an ocean wave crashing over a burning candle.
“I have to go.”
Max takes another step back, opening a pathway to the rest of the staircase. I continue upstairs, bittersweet tears running down my cheeks. I always knew tha
t if I were ever going to be with, anyone it would be someone with shared passion and interests. Maybe Max and I had a chance at that. But I can’t be with someone who assumes the worst about me. And that truth creates a small crack in the corner of my heart.
Chapter 7
Max
I get up first thing Sunday morning and go to the office before Sloane wakes up. She might need to go somewhere, so I have one my drivers bring one of the extra cars around to the front and leave the key in the ignition.
I spend the rest of the day trying to pretend I’m not obsessing over the gorgeous woman at home. Thank goodness I have the date auction fundraiser on my calendar tonight. It gives me something to focus on and I’m sure to have some fun with my fellow Oakwood Boys.
Changing into one of the extra suits I keep in the office, I resolve not to think about Sloane for the remainder of the evening. In fact, as a charity date auction, I’m practically obliged to bid on someone and make a donation. Nevermind the fact that they’re hosting the event in one of my nicest hotels at no cost.
Forty minutes later, I evaluate the ballroom at the Monolith Hotel, one of the Hawthorne Group’s most recent acquisitions. It’s a massive, gilded room with dozens of chandeliers overhead. Most of them are dimmed to give the large room a cozy ambience. There’s a bar along the back—where I’m standing—and tables and chairs decorated in lavender and gold, all set out before a makeshift stage. It’s an adequate effort for an event of this size. I wouldn’t host it myself, but the proceeds go to a good cause.
I scan the crowd, noticing Tobias Kline lurking at the bar a few feet away. “Toby, my good man,” I say with a smile. “Good to see you here.”
“It’s Tobias,” he mutters. Of course, I know he prefers his given name, but I can’t help it. I swear, it’s one of my favorite things—pushing his buttons and making it seem friendly.
We banter back and forth, insulting each other through polite conversation. It’s as enjoyable as ever until he mentions my ex, Tana. We dated for a few weeks, mostly because she looked good on my arm. It certainly wasn’t because of her intellect or scintillating social skills. Tana and Sloane are completely different. Sloane effortlessly captures my attention. Not just because she has an incredible body, but because of the wealth of thoughts and ideas that swim just behind her eyes. People typically give me anything I want. But not Sloane. She’s a mysterious temptation, especially for someone like me. One I could spend the rest of my life unraveling.
With the mood soured, I make my excuses and head to the other side of the room. Along the way, strangers try to make my acquaintance. Acquaintances try to become friends or to propose business ideas. Business partners and competitors try to one up me with their wit and cynicism.
I’d thought it would be a relief to return to my normal environment, but after a week with Sloane, it feels like torture. I hadn’t noticed at the time, but Sloane only speaks when she has something important to say. She doesn’t put off a desperate energy at all. Hundreds of people surround me right now, and not one of them who actually wants to know me. They’re only interested in my money, my family, or my connections. Until this moment, I hadn’t realized how lonely that feels.
The date auction begins. I’m not paying attention, consumed by thoughts of Sloane. I’m not missing anything. Each woman on the stage looks like a carbon copy of the one before her. The whole event is tedious.
I’m ready to call it a night until I notice an attractive curvy woman with long dark hair take the stage. She reminds me a bit of Sloane—unconventionally beautiful. On a whim, I make the first bid. “Five hundred.”
“One thousand,” a voice calls from across the room. Ah, my good man Toby Kline. This should be fun.
I raise my glass to him, pausing a moment before saying, “Two thousand.”
He glowers in my direction. “Twenty five hundred.”
“Three.”
“Four.”
“Forty-five hundred.” God, this is the most fun I’ve had all night. It isn’t even about the woman or the money. She isn’t Sloane, and I have plenty of money. This won't even make a tiny dent in my monthly budget.
“Five,” he barks, clearly getting worked up.
“Six,” I say, hiding my grin.
“Going once,” the MC warns.
“Going twice.”
“Ten thousand,” Toby announces. The crowd hushes at the size of the bid.
The MC’s eyes go wide and he glances at me. “Going once.” I raise my eyebrows, but don’t make another bid. Clearly, Toby wants a date with this woman.
“Going twice,” the MC says. Then, after a brief pause, continues, “And the lovely lady is sold to this fine gentleman here for the—” Here he pauses and clears his throat. “The impressive sum of ten thousand big ones.”
The rest of the event goes quickly. Mostly some mingling and gossiping. Before leaving, I write a check with a donation and give it to the organizer, Camila.
Outside the hotel, I pause for a minute to take in some fresh air. It’s still relatively early, and going home doesn’t sound appealing. Or maybe it sounds too appealing, but I don't want to lose control again around Sloane. A little time at the OC should take the edge off.
Once there, I go straight to the Lounge. The Oakwood Club is exclusive and open only to the Oakwood Boy nobility—Kings, Princes, Knights—members of the highest order. Tonight, as every night, it’s dark, smoky, and warm. Men gather in clusters in and around leather chairs, Port wine glasses in one hand and burning cigars in the other, as they conduct business deals that could change the whole course of the nation’s economy.
I settle into a leather chair, nodding at a familiar server. A moment later, she places a glass of my regular drink on the table beside me—top-shelf scotch. Immediately, I think of Sloane. Last night, she tasted like sweetness and scotch. My cock thickens at the memory. I down the scotch and head to the bar. This time, I order wine in a futile attempt to keep her out of my thoughts.
Glass in hand, I look around to see if there’s anyone worth talking to. Imagine my surprise when I see none other than Tobias Kline walking toward some Russian oil baron across the room. My very favorite Oakwood Boy. I cut him off before he makes the approach.
“Twice in one night,” I say, swirling my wine in its glass before taking a sip.
“Lucky me,” he mutters, glancing over to see the Russian signaling for his jacket.
“I saw you disappear with that curvy beauty you sniped from me at the auction. I thought you’d be out with her.” What the hell is he doing here after bidding five figures for a date with the woman? Come to think of it, what am I doing here?
An attendant approaches with his glass and he takes it, and then selects an Arturo Fuente cigar to go with it. I pull out my own butane lighter and hold it up for him.
Curiosity has me asking, “So, what happened with her?”
He ignores me, puffing on his cigar like an entitled prick.
I won’t let it go, though. “Keeping her in your back pocket, are you?”
“I was just doing a favor for a coworker,” he says.
“A ten thousand dollar favor?” I smile ruefully. “We both know that no Oakwood Boy does anything for free.”
“I didn’t know that girls like her were your type, anyway.”
My eyes narrow, thinking of Sloane. “I didn’t either until I saw her. I’m beginning to think I wouldn’t mind a little something to hold onto.” Let him think I’m talking about the woman at the date auction. He doesn’t need to know that Sloane is the woman consuming my thoughts.
I utilize my years of control at hiding my thoughts and pat him on the shoulder. “Let me know how it is, will you?”
“Not on your life.”
I laugh as I turn away, signaling the attendant to bring my jacket. It’s time to go home to my own woman. “See you later, old sport.”
When I arrive at the estate, the car I left for her is gone. Even still, I circle the main areas o
f the home, only admitting after searching for half an hour that she isn’t home. It’s quiet. Too quiet. And lonely. Trying not to be too morose, I walk the halls with a glass of scotch. Not getting drunk. Just trying to keep my thoughts occupied. I don’t want to think about Sloane, where she might be and who she might be with.
I’m walking past the doors to the library when I hear a tiny squeak. Freezing in place, I wait to see if I’ll hear it again. There. Another tiny squeak coming from within the library. Brow furrowed, I open the doors, only to stop in shock at the scene in front of me.
Three tiny kittens sit in a cage in the corner of my library. They stare at me, meowing like they’ve lost their mother. Which, I presume they have.
It doesn’t take long for the shock to dissipate. Sloane. She obviously hid these kittens in my library. Where else could they have come from?
I stalk toward the little devils as resolve fills me. If Sloane thinks she can get away with tricking me like this, she’s sadly mistaken.
Chapter 8
Sloane
After last night, I needed a girls’ night out. I’m used to hairballs on the carpet being the biggest drama in my life. This is next level stuff, and I need my girls to help me untangle my thoughts.
We meet at a somewhat upscale taco joint and immediately order margaritas. There’s four of us at the table. We take a moment to introduce ourselves. Everyone knows someone, but nobody knows everyone.
I bring Penny, then roll my eyes at her comment, “I’m surprised my chica has friends that don’t walk on four legs.”
Paige introduces Lily, who is apparently Max’s sister-in-law. They met when Lily and Grayson visited Max at the estate and immediately hit it off.
It doesn’t take long—about half a margarita—for us to be laughing like old friends. Especially when Lily shares the story of how she met Grayson and Max the first time at her coffee shop on Vincent Street.