Chapter 18 - Brooke

My bare feet slapped against the floor as I stormed back to the sanctuary of my guest room. I hated Max more than ever, to the point I stomped harder, hoping he’d hear me all the way downstairs. Lying there so smug and arrogant after what he’d made me do. How he’d made me feel. Once again, I lost complete control, just from the look in his eyes, like sinful dark chocolate but with no health benefits whatsoever.

Slamming into my room, I sat on the bed, then immediately popped up again to pace. The clothes I’d pilfered from Max’s drawers to go swimming in were still damp, clinging to me uncomfortably and making me shiver in the air-conditioned room. I supposed I could wrap up in a towel or the sumptuous bed sheets.

I remembered all those shopping bags and boxes piled high in the hallway earlier. Of course, I’d been too stubborn to go through them, but now that I was reduced to damp clothes that were six sizes too big or bedsheets, I considered searching them out.

Why shouldn’t I?

At that point, I didn’t even consider them gifts but reparations for what he’d put me through. What he was putting me through, because I could still feel the sense memory of his hands on my skin, his lips everywhere. My ears still rang with the feral sound of his growls as he dragged me to such heights.

Ugh, I wished I had never reached out to him for help.

With my hand on the door handle, about to go in search of all those packages, or at least something dry, I had a sudden flashback to my brief time with Luca. That night was a blur, thanks to the drug he gave me, but the memory of his ruthless, dead eyes was as clear as the door in front of me. I shuddered and shook it away. If it hadn’t been for Max, I might have still been Luca’s prisoner, suffering untold horrors, or possibly dead by now from what I’d learned about him.

Even if half of what Max had told me was true, Luca Ross was an evil, sick man who held way too much power for anyone’s good.

Then again, couldn’t the same case be made against Max? He had a lot of power he didn’t exactly wield for the betterment of humanity. He had just as much, if not more, money, plenty of power, and control issues galore for sure.

But sick and evil? As much as I couldn’t stand Max for threatening to ruin everything I’d worked for, even I couldn’t go that far. No way.

Then I remembered we hadn’t settled anything before I launched myself at him. Thinking about how he’d so calmly taunted me that he’d never touch me again made my face burn to the point I forgot my mission to seek out dry clothes. Damn it, he never actually agreed to let me go back to school when summer session began.

The fact that my body was still yearning for him even after this realization had me clenching my hands hard enough to pierce the skin on my palms. There was no way I was crying again. From a young age, I learned that it did no good and frequently made things worse. Except, when Max had seen me crying out by the pool, he’d rushed to my side, and I could have sworn there was real concern in his eyes.

Whatever. It was as if his pity or kindness or whatever I mistook that look to be was going to change the fact that I was still stuck here. In wet clothes.

I stormed into his room, where I found everything he had bought for me had already been put away. A section had been cleared in his massive walk-in closet where at least a dozen new dresses now hung. Leather sandals, a pair of running shoes, several dressy high heels, and even flip flops and fluffy slippers lined the wall underneath them. A quick inspection of the drawers and cabinets revealed several had been filled with undies and socks, t-shirts and shorts, pajamas, and workout clothes.

It was probably more clothes than I’d owned in my entire life combined, and certainly much better quality. I ran my fingers over one stunning dress made of feather-light lilac silk and another blue and green printed one. That was what I would have picked for myself if I’d been turned loose in the store with an unlimited budget. It was as if he somehow knew me so well he could choose just what I liked.

Reminding myself that I wasn’t Cinderella and this was no freaking fairy tale, I grabbed up an armload of things without paying too much attention and stormed back to the other room. Tossing everything on the bed, I hurried back to lock the door behind me, then unlocked it again.

If Max wanted to get in here badly enough, no flimsy door lock would keep him out, and I was way too conscientious to let him knock the thing down. Almost immediately I changed my mind back and twisted the lock again.

What did I care about what he destroyed? Let him tear the entire mansion down around himself.

After a shower and a change into a pink t-shirt and a new pair of ultra-soft sweatpants that probably ridiculously cost half my rent, I still wasn’t completely over my snit, but was too hungry to stay in the room sulking. I’d not only swam until I was rubbery legged, I’d had that impromptu workout with Max.

Refusing to think about that and get all worked up again, I stomped down the stairs to the kitchen. It was only satisfying to make so much noise for a second, then I realized I didn’t really want to draw Max’s attention and switched to normal walking. I wasn’t tiptoeing or trying to hide, but I wanted to make a sandwich in peace with no more distractions from that infuriatingly sexy hunk of man.

At least, that’s what I told myself.

And, of course, I ran right into him as he was coming out of his office, also seeming to be heading for the kitchen. All the wind went out of my sails. I was spent, and I kept my head down, ignoring him as we headed in the same direction. Great, just great. I could always grab a box of cereal and flee back to my room.

“This is silly,” Max said. “There’s no reason we should eat separate meals. Let me make us something nice.”

To prove I was the bigger person and not affected by him in any way, I shrugged and sat down. To my surprise, he began pulling out what looked like lamb chops and a whole slew of fresh veggies.

“You can cook?” I asked.

“I made you dinner once already,” he said, not turning around as he chopped. Fine, I didn’t mind the view of his backside, and it was less embarrassing than having him practically read my thoughts like he always seemed able to do.

“Salad,” I said. “Anyone can make a salad.”

“Well, judge for yourself in a few minutes if I can cook or not,” he said.

Shockingly, he could, and the meal was delicious. I couldn’t keep my surprise to myself, and admitted I basically lived off of instant noodles, eggs, and occasionally pizza if I had a coupon.

He made a face and put more steamed veggies on my plate. “I enjoy it, and even trained with the chef at my diner for a while. I don’t even have a cook here.”

I asked him about the chef at his restaurant, and if he had a temper like television chefs always seemed to have.

“Oh, you wouldn’t believe it. And he knows damn well who I am and what might happen to him if he crossed the line, too,” Max said. “But he still called me a worthless sack of shit when I burned a potato gratin for the third time.”

I gaped at him, sure he was teasing, but he went on to regale me of other times he’d jumped in on the line at the diner, until he finally got it right.

“And that’s what you consider fun?” I asked. “Getting yelled at while you suck at something?”

He shrugged. “How else are you going to excel at something without practice and a good teacher?” He looked at me for a long time, and I knew exactly where his thoughts were heading by the way his eyes darkened. “Then again, some people are naturally good at some things right off the bat.”

Why couldn’t I look away? Why was my skin tingling all over? “There’s always room for improvement, I guess,” I answered.

He laughed, leaning back in his chair, as always the master of all he surveyed. Including me, especially me. Still, we were being civil and even having a nice time. I considered bringing up school again and appealing to him one more time. The thought of being shut down again was too much, and I was too emotionally drained from the constant ups and downs. This was an up, but I could feel myself tipping over to begin the slide back down. He’d already told me I wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future. Why did I think a pleasant dinner would change anything?

I lifted my chin, determined to get a bit of control. “I’ve moved some of my things into the guest bedroom,” I said.

He dropped his gaze and sighed. “I thought we’d moved past that,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “This afternoon in my office.”

Hot and flustered at the way he made me remember every moment just by bringing it up, and confused at the conflicting feelings that threatened to make me falter, I could only scowl. Damn it, I was done faltering. The only thing that would protect me was my anger, and I held it close like a shield. He might have made me cry out in his office, but it was also because of him that I’d been crying by the pool.

He was stealing everything from me.

“I hate you,” I whispered, so low there was no way he could hear. “Can’t you see that?”

He stood up and rested his hand gently on my shoulder as he moved past me. “I don’t think you do,” he said mildly. Completely unconcerned. “You know where to find me. If you need anything.”

I sat there, seething, and forced myself not to turn or move a muscle until he was gone. That slight touch of his hand on my shoulder set me on fire, with every inch of me yearning to follow him, like a plant reaching for sunlight.

Like hell. That fire turned inward as I raged at myself. How did I let him steal every ounce of my self-control, along with my good sense?

Back in my room, I couldn’t sleep, only getting more frustrated by the second as I imagined him laughing and waiting for me in his room. Well, let him wait until he rotted because it’d be a cold day in hell before that happened.

It was more likely that he wasn’t waiting at all but was sleeping peacefully, without a care in the world. Certainly not pining for me the way I was—no, I wasn’t. I turned and punched my pillow and then flipped it to the cool side. The new pajamas that had fit perfectly when I first put them on now seemed too tight and overly hot, and I finally threw the covers off completely and got out of bed to pace.

Straight to the doorway, where my hand rested on the knob.

“Damn it,” I hissed, and kept cursing the whole way down the hall. Cursed some more when I tiptoed into Max’s room and carefully shut the door behind me. Nearly kicked it when I heard the same chuckle that had sent me into a rage that afternoon.

Whipping around, I saw him lying half under his sheets in the scant light of the moon streaming through a window. I almost started to drool seeing him shirtless and gleaming.

Damn it.

He wordlessly welcomed me into his arms when I scurried over to get in bed with him, and all I could do was sigh with relief as he kissed my frustrations away.