Against the Ropes
Page 33
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“Nothing. Just a bad day at work. It happens.”
His eyes darken, and he wipes another tear from my cheek. “Did someone bother you?” His chest puffs up and his biceps twitch. “Tell me who it is and—”
“It’s okay, Max.” I pat his arm. “I’m just going home to wallow in self-pity. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Max shakes his head. “You have to eat first. Self-pity is better on a full stomach. Let me take you for dinner.”
Hmmm. Instant noodles alone in my apartment or a hot, cooked meal with GQ model Max in a restaurant? Not really a choice. More like a foregone conclusion.
I take his hand. “Lead the way.”
We climb into the air-conditioned interior and my mood immediately improves. “Same limo as before?” I run my hand over the butter soft, beige leather seat and check out the situation: television, small bar fridge, seating for eight, laptop, privacy glass, Internet port. All looks the same.
Max chuckles. “Sorry to disappoint. I only need one.” He presses the button on the intercom. “Lewis, we’re going to Bianco Nero, but first we’ll visit Eva.”
“Bianco Nero? The ritzy Michelin-starred restaurant?” My voice rises and trembles. “I can’t go there in jeans and a T-shirt. Do you know the kind of people who go there? Certainly not the likes of me. I was thinking of something more casual.”
Max cups my face in his hands and turns me to face him. “Yes, the likes of you. Exactly the likes of you. With me. And I would never put you in a situation where you would feel uncomfortable. I have the dress-code issue all sorted out.”
“What does that mean?”
Max’s lips quirk into a smile and he takes my hand and twines his fingers through mine. “You’ll see. Now relax.”
Relax? In a limo beside a man who now looks so far out of my league I shouldn’t be able to see him?
We sit in silence while Lewis expertly navigates the traffic. I sigh and twist my ring around my finger as I anticipate yet another humiliating inappropriate clothing experience. Max lets my hand go and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.
“Relax, baby. Trust me.”
Baby. He called me baby. Warmth ripples through my body and I drift on happiness clouds until the limo pulls to a stop.
Lewis dashes out of the vehicle and holds open the door as we step onto the sidewalk outside an exclusive boutique in Rockridge. My contentment vanishes like a thief in the night.
Max clasps my hand and leads me to the door. My tension flares to life. “I can’t buy anything here. I can tell just by looking at the six items of clothing in the window. I probably can’t even afford to buy a tissue in this place.”
Max presses a buzzer and the door is opened by an exquisite, darkly exotic woman with long, black hair.
“Eva.”
“Max.” She doesn’t even wait for us to step inside before she throws her arms around him. Her expensively clothed, toned body presses up against him. Long, dark lashes flutter down over her perfectly smooth, honey-colored cheeks.
“It’s been so long,” she breathes through plump, rouged lips.
Jeez. Not again. He’s really pushing his “I’m a one-woman man” promise to its limits.
“Ahem.”
Max pulls away. “Makayla this is Eva. She’s an old friend.”
We exchange greetings and Eva excuses herself to get things ready. I sigh and walk over to the rack as I contemplate how Eva can run a business with only six items of stock.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s very…friendly. And she appears to be more your type. She could probably afford to buy the clothes she sells. I can’t.”
“You are my type,” he says, emphasizing each word. He cups my jaw and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “And I want to buy you something you would feel comfortable wearing to Bianco Nero. You don’t have to worry about the cost.” His voice drops to a soothing murmur and I lean in to the touch of his hand.
“I don’t need you to buy my clothes, Max. If you take me home, I’m sure I have something I can wear.”
He pulls me close and kisses me lightly on the forehead. “You are a beautiful woman and I want to buy you something beautiful to wear. Let me have that small pleasure.”
Am I so heartless I would deny a man the small pleasures in his life? Of course not. I’m altruistic to the core. “Okay. You win.”
Max settles himself in a gilded throne-like chair and pulls out his fancy phone. Eva hands me a tiny piece of green, sparkly material. “It will be perfect,” she breathes. “It matches your eyes and will highlight your beautiful curves.”
I give her a tight smile. “I’m not really a scarf person.”
Eva laughs, a light, musical sound, so unlike my snorts and guffaws when I really get going. “It’s not a scarf. It’s a dress.”
I unfold the flimsy material. No way is this going over my rolls. Even if I do find a way to get it on, no doubt I will immediately shred it with the jagged edge of my freshly chewed fingernails. My eyes flick to Eva and back to the dress. “Do you have anything more…substantial?”
Eva trills another laugh and leads me to a tiny, curtained alcove. Clearly, normal people do not shop at this store. I cannot move without brushing open the soft, beige cotton curtains, much less strip off and slide on the handkerchief without revealing things best kept hidden.
His eyes darken, and he wipes another tear from my cheek. “Did someone bother you?” His chest puffs up and his biceps twitch. “Tell me who it is and—”
“It’s okay, Max.” I pat his arm. “I’m just going home to wallow in self-pity. I’ll be fine tomorrow.”
Max shakes his head. “You have to eat first. Self-pity is better on a full stomach. Let me take you for dinner.”
Hmmm. Instant noodles alone in my apartment or a hot, cooked meal with GQ model Max in a restaurant? Not really a choice. More like a foregone conclusion.
I take his hand. “Lead the way.”
We climb into the air-conditioned interior and my mood immediately improves. “Same limo as before?” I run my hand over the butter soft, beige leather seat and check out the situation: television, small bar fridge, seating for eight, laptop, privacy glass, Internet port. All looks the same.
Max chuckles. “Sorry to disappoint. I only need one.” He presses the button on the intercom. “Lewis, we’re going to Bianco Nero, but first we’ll visit Eva.”
“Bianco Nero? The ritzy Michelin-starred restaurant?” My voice rises and trembles. “I can’t go there in jeans and a T-shirt. Do you know the kind of people who go there? Certainly not the likes of me. I was thinking of something more casual.”
Max cups my face in his hands and turns me to face him. “Yes, the likes of you. Exactly the likes of you. With me. And I would never put you in a situation where you would feel uncomfortable. I have the dress-code issue all sorted out.”
“What does that mean?”
Max’s lips quirk into a smile and he takes my hand and twines his fingers through mine. “You’ll see. Now relax.”
Relax? In a limo beside a man who now looks so far out of my league I shouldn’t be able to see him?
We sit in silence while Lewis expertly navigates the traffic. I sigh and twist my ring around my finger as I anticipate yet another humiliating inappropriate clothing experience. Max lets my hand go and puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into his chest.
“Relax, baby. Trust me.”
Baby. He called me baby. Warmth ripples through my body and I drift on happiness clouds until the limo pulls to a stop.
Lewis dashes out of the vehicle and holds open the door as we step onto the sidewalk outside an exclusive boutique in Rockridge. My contentment vanishes like a thief in the night.
Max clasps my hand and leads me to the door. My tension flares to life. “I can’t buy anything here. I can tell just by looking at the six items of clothing in the window. I probably can’t even afford to buy a tissue in this place.”
Max presses a buzzer and the door is opened by an exquisite, darkly exotic woman with long, black hair.
“Eva.”
“Max.” She doesn’t even wait for us to step inside before she throws her arms around him. Her expensively clothed, toned body presses up against him. Long, dark lashes flutter down over her perfectly smooth, honey-colored cheeks.
“It’s been so long,” she breathes through plump, rouged lips.
Jeez. Not again. He’s really pushing his “I’m a one-woman man” promise to its limits.
“Ahem.”
Max pulls away. “Makayla this is Eva. She’s an old friend.”
We exchange greetings and Eva excuses herself to get things ready. I sigh and walk over to the rack as I contemplate how Eva can run a business with only six items of stock.
“What’s wrong?”
“She’s very…friendly. And she appears to be more your type. She could probably afford to buy the clothes she sells. I can’t.”
“You are my type,” he says, emphasizing each word. He cups my jaw and strokes my cheek with his thumb. “And I want to buy you something you would feel comfortable wearing to Bianco Nero. You don’t have to worry about the cost.” His voice drops to a soothing murmur and I lean in to the touch of his hand.
“I don’t need you to buy my clothes, Max. If you take me home, I’m sure I have something I can wear.”
He pulls me close and kisses me lightly on the forehead. “You are a beautiful woman and I want to buy you something beautiful to wear. Let me have that small pleasure.”
Am I so heartless I would deny a man the small pleasures in his life? Of course not. I’m altruistic to the core. “Okay. You win.”
Max settles himself in a gilded throne-like chair and pulls out his fancy phone. Eva hands me a tiny piece of green, sparkly material. “It will be perfect,” she breathes. “It matches your eyes and will highlight your beautiful curves.”
I give her a tight smile. “I’m not really a scarf person.”
Eva laughs, a light, musical sound, so unlike my snorts and guffaws when I really get going. “It’s not a scarf. It’s a dress.”
I unfold the flimsy material. No way is this going over my rolls. Even if I do find a way to get it on, no doubt I will immediately shred it with the jagged edge of my freshly chewed fingernails. My eyes flick to Eva and back to the dress. “Do you have anything more…substantial?”
Eva trills another laugh and leads me to a tiny, curtained alcove. Clearly, normal people do not shop at this store. I cannot move without brushing open the soft, beige cotton curtains, much less strip off and slide on the handkerchief without revealing things best kept hidden.
