“I’ve never been one for sleeping in,” he says. “As soon as I open my eyes, I’m ready to face the day.”
“That’s going to take some getting used to.”
“Did you enjoy going through all my photos yesterday?” he asks.
My fork freezes on the way to my mouth, heat rushing into my cheeks. “You saw what I was looking at? How?”
“I just checked the activity. You left fingerprints everywhere, especially around the ones of me at the beach.”
I narrow my eyes at him, smirking despite myself. “Who’s taking all those thirst-trap photos for you anyway?”
He chuckles, low and unbothered. “One of my men. Now, before you judge me too harshly, I have a good reason for doing those. It humanizes me to the public. I’m well known in the city as the owner and operator of the Luciani Financial Group. I have to cultivate an image of an elite businessman in public, not…well, not what I really am.”
“So that’s why you pose like a man who owns the city and knows it?”
“Well, I suppose if I’m being completely honest, it’s my one vanity, showing off my wealth, my physique I work hard to earn. I enjoy it.”
“Mm.” I arch a brow. “And wanting women to slide into your DMs? That was a plan too, wasn’t it? To enjoy the attention?”
He doesn’t hesitate; his gaze locks with mine, sharp and certain. “Before you, yes. But now? There’s no one else. You’re the only woman I want in my life.”
Something in my chest loosens at the certainty in his tone. Still, Maximo leans forward, as though determined to seal the promise.
“In fact,” he goes on, “I changed my mind. I want you with me today at the press conference. I want the public to see us together.”
I blink at him, surprised by the offer, then feel warmth bloom deep inside me. It’s reassurance, protection, and something else. It’s an acknowledgment of our relationship. He may be publicly putting a claim on me, perhaps, but it’s one I find myself wanting.
“All right,” I agree.
“Now, I still want to be smart about this. One of the outfits I brought for you is a pantsuit, which should cover up body armor. I’ll be wearing some too, under my dress shirt. I know those ballistic vests aren’t exactly stylish, but with our current situation…”
“I’d rather be safe than sorry,” I assure him.
After we finish eating, I clean up the dishes, my heart lighter than it’s been in days. Upstairs, I begin to prepare, carefully wrapping the flexible vest around me before slipping into the dress shirt and smoothing it down.
Agreeing to go with Maximo felt easy. Dressing for it feels harder.
Standing beside him publicly means stepping into his world completely, and into the spotlight that could get me killed just as easily as it could protect me.
27
“Money comes and goes. Character’s the thing that sticks to you, even when you wish it wouldn’t.”
—ROBERT MONROE
Constance
The rideinto the city is smooth and peaceful, the tinted windows muting the morning light. I sit close to Maximo, our hands brushing against each other on the leather seat. For once, the conversation turns not to war, betrayal, or territory, but to something gentler.
“When this is finished,” I say quietly, watching the blur of passing buildings, “I want to rebuild Monroe’s. Not just as a restaurant, but as a tribute to my father. He always wanted to turn it into a franchise. I want to try to make that dream cometrue for him.”
Maximo turns his gaze to me, softer than I’ve ever seen it. “I thought you’d say that. In fact, while I was making calls yesterday, I made a few plans for the rebuild to move forward.”
My brow furrows. “What do you mean? The insurance company hasn’t even finished its investigation. Until they pay out, I’m at a standstill.”
“I realized that and knew the delay was causing you added grief. So, I called my contractor and made some arrangements.” At my puzzled look, he reaches over, enclosing my hand in his. “I’m going to have them start the cleanup and reconstruction. If I grease the right palms and call in every favor I’m owed, we can have Monroe’s standing again in a month. Not perfect. Not finished. But open.”
My breath catches. “You…Max…I can’t ask you to?—”
