34. Nat

The table I've managed to snag is by the window but tucked away in a corner. I'm two coffees in and making headway with my notes, filling out some details in the skeleton of the article I'm currently working on.

Analyzing why women always go for bad boys is proving more interesting than I expected. I was lucky enough to interview a leading psychologist as part of my research, and a lot of what she said resonated with me.

Nobody could possibly deny that Max, for example, has very masculine traits. Or that maybe I'm drawn to strong, powerful men because I feel anything but.

It's also true that with his looks, any child Max sires would hit the genetic lottery.

I was less amused to learn men like this rarely make good long-term partners, even if dating ‘bad boys' typically leads to great sex and dangerous adventures.

Not that it's fair to blame Max for leading me into danger. I've managed that all on my own.

I have a feeling that I won't be the only woman who reads this article and hears a light bulb ping in her brain. Thankfully, Dr. Slade was good enough to tell me bad boys are rarely monogamous and most of them need fixing in some way.

Not knowing Max all that well, it's hard to say whether he has deep-rooted emotional baggage, but since I have more than enough for both of us, it doesn't matter. Whatever this is between us won't last.

I'm a fling to him. Pure and simple. He sees me as a challenge but sooner or later, he'll get bored and move on. The quicker I get used to the idea, the easier it will be to cope when the inevitable happens and he ghosts me.

Because why wouldn't he?

Compared to the women he usually dates, I'm no great catch. OK, so I have no clue what kind of women he dates, but he's ridiculously good-looking, wealthy, and charming. He probably has a whole host of gorgeous women lining up to take my place.

Like the brunette who's just walked into the cafe with her friend. She scans the room, tossing her shiny hair and soaking up the admiring glances from patrons. This is exactly the kind of woman Max would be seen with.

Not me.

I return my attention to my story and carry on typing up my notes from the interview with Dr. Slade. My editor wants the story submitted by 3 PM, but it should be done before then.

My phone pings. And it's the man himself.

Dinner tonight?

I ignore him for a few minutes. No point in seeming too desperate. Even if I am desperate. One hot night with Max is nowhere near enough to sate my lust for him.

Can't, working.

He pings a reply straight back.

I'll pick you up from work.

Part of me doesn't like the way he drives a coach and horses through my plans. Rick always did the same thing: steamroller over anything I said if it didn't suit his needs. But then I remember how I overreacted on Saturday morning and rein it in.

Max isn't Rick, and I need to stop comparing them. It's time I drew a line under my relationship with Rick. He's gone and I doubt very much if he'll ever come back. Good riddance to him.

I pick up my phone again and chew my nail while thinking about what to say in my reply to Max. He's trying to be nice and show me he's interested, yet half the time I'm snippy in my messages to him.

So I compose something a bit more effusive than usual.

OK, Thank you. X

The minute I send the stupid message, I start second-guessing myself. Was adding a kiss to the message too much? Should I have added a stupid emoji instead? God. Thankfully he replies before I start spiraling out of control.

My pleasure xx

Two kisses! My face breaks out in a huge smile and the man at the adjacent table smiles back, obviously assuming I'm looking at him. Ugh. Maybe it's time I left the cafe and headed back to the office.

I've drunk too much coffee and although I've been keeping an eye on the building opposite, where the mayor has an office, there's no sign of him. Without having access to his diary, I have no clue about his movements.

Spending a few hours in this cafe seemed like a good idea this morning. I figured there was a chance he might show up with a business associate, in which case I could take a photo with my phone and try to reverse image search to identify them.

No such luck though.

Just as I'm packing my laptop away, a black SUV pulls up outside the building. Something about the vehicle gives me pause and I watch it for a few moments. A door opens and a tall man in a dark suit steps out. He looks both ways before heading up the steps and into the building.

Why is Max visiting the mayor's office?

Seeing Max visit the mayor's building has unsettled me. Other people have offices there, but I can think of no good reason why Max would be there other than meeting with the mayor.

Max is a businessman. He doesn't have a say in the governance of this city. So why would he meet with the mayor?

I understand why he was at the gala. Most important names were. If Max is as wealthy as I suspect, he'd be a shoo-in on the mayor's list of people to schmooze for his charity projects. Like the one where abused women are given somewhere safe to stay.

Max and I still haven't talked about what he does for a living. Yes, I now know he owns several luxurious hotels, as well as some prime real estate, but he always steers the conversation away from his business dealings when I ask. So I have learned not to push.

The sense that he's hiding things from me is strong. I'm a journalist, so it's in my nature to ask questions. Dig a little deeper. And the more I think about Max, the more I need to know who he is.

Not the person he presents to the world.

I have a pretty good idea of who the real Max is. When we are together, he's generous and affectionate, and he makes me feel like the only person in the room.

But I've seen the other sides to him, too.

In the bar, when he took control of the situation and ensured my friends got home safely. The night in the park, where he almost killed the guy who attacked me.

It's like he wears many masks.

Not wanting Max or his driver to see me, I tuck my long hair into a low ponytail and pull my baseball cap down over my head.

Max won't expect me to be in this cafe. He thinks I'm at the office. Unless he comes back outside in the next few minutes, he won't know I was here. I leave some cash on the table as a tip for the waitress and walk out just as the glamorous brunette who arrived earlier stands.

She's talking loudly on her phone, gesticulating in the air with long red acrylic nails. The woman really is stunning with her shiny hair and perfect makeup. I see her glance my way and instantly dismiss me.

Her call ends and she huffs with irritation before barging past me like I don't exist. The door swings open to let another customer in and she sweeps outside on a cloud of expensive perfume, her heels clacking loudly on the tiled floor.

Every inch of her is perfection, from her slim legs and perfectly toned butt to her pretty, pouting lips.

I trail outside after her, dipping my head. Just as I reach the corner where I need to turn left, I hear a woman's voice.

"Maxim! How are you, darling?"

It's him. I know it is. And the gorgeous brunette is a fan, clearly. It's like there is cement in my shoes, rooting me to the ground. The thought of another woman with Max forces me to spin around.

The brunette reaches Max as he strides toward the waiting SUV. She intercepts him, practically throwing herself into his arms. When her lips meet his mouth, I turn away and walk as fast as I can in the direction of my office, feeling sick to my stomach.