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“No.”
“I’ve seen you, Max. You work non-stop.”
She pulled a face. “I’m hiding from a stalker at the moment. It’s easier to work than face the music.”
“Is that really how you feel?”
“I don’t know.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Kind of. Work is my safe space. I’m good at it and I feel confident and untouchable.”
“Did you always want to forge your own path?”
“Yes. Gray and I both did. As teenagers we used to come up with ideas for our own business. We wanted to cut loose from mom’s money as quickly as we could.”
“Why?”
Now Max’s heart raced for a reason she didn’t like. Familiar animosities bubbled to the surface. “She’s my mum and I love her, I guess, I mean biologically I’m sort of obligated to love her, but my mother is the most selfish person you’ll ever meet. After dad died, she remarried a few times, each guy was his own kind of special prick, each one sued her for a fortune after the divorce. There was a lot of change year on year, a lot of tension as she met with different lawyers and tried different approaches. We just wanted to be at the helm of our own ship, you know? To run our own lives, to have more control than we ever knew as kids.”
“That makes a lot of sense.”
“But I’m different to how you are,” she said after a moment, sipping her tea as she marshalled her thoughts. “I always wanted what I didn’t have. Stability and family. Love.” Her self-deprecating smile was lopsided. “I want the fantasy my mum kept reaching for, I just want to do it smarter than she did.”
She was aware of his stillness, his absence of motion and breath. “But why? It sounds like you’ve had more than enough proof it’s not possible.”
“I guess I’m an optimist,” she grimaced. “I see lots of people out there who are happy, married, kids, home, work, balance, the works. I want that.”
“You’re not happy with your life as it is?”
She nodded, brushing aside his question. The answer made her feel ungrateful, spoiled, as though she couldn’t just be content with what she had when the truth was, she was. “I’m happy,” she said after a moment. “But there are different kinds of happiness. One day, I want another kind. One day, I want to feel…less lonely.”
A shiver ran down her spine, but not from cold.
He drained his coffee, then stood. “I need to check in with the office. Make yourself at home.”
She looked up at him, wondering if he could hear the solid pounding of her heart against her ribs. It was loud enough to rattle through Max’s ears, as rhythmic as the ocean, loud enough to make her sit very still and listen to what it was trying to tell her.
It was after midnight when he finally got the security feed released to him – a special request via DCS Wingrave produced the requisite files and Noah wasted no time. He loaded up his laptop and clicked into the feed, starting at the beginning of the evening, even though that was hours before their arrival. He wasn’t sure what he was looking for – a first review was often just about getting a feel for the faces, the movements, seeing if there were any exits he hadn’t been aware of, any staff that seemed out of place. But after an hour of reviewing, he couldn’t see anything untoward. It was people coming and going, carrying trays, polishing glasses, cleaning, milling around chatting.
“You’re working?”
He blinked, surprised by the interruption, then more surprised that he’d so successfully been able to blot Max from his mind. It was a feat he doubted he’d be able to accomplish again, now that he’d seen her. Showered, with bare legs that seemed to go on forever, wearing a simple white t-shirt of his, completely at odds with the diamond necklace she almost always wore, her hair pulled up in a messy bun, her movements languorous and elegant.
“Do you mind?” She pulled at the top, offering a little expression of uncertainty. “I didn’t feel like getting back in that dress.”
“Of course not. Help yourself to anything on board.”
“I was going to fix something to eat. I didn’t have much at the event and I’m peckish.”
He swore under his breath. “I’m sorry, I should have offered you something.”
“You told me to help myself,” she waved away his apology. “Besides, what you’re doing is way more important than feeding me. Do you have anything yet?”
He snapped the lid of his laptop closed, wanting to protect her from the events of the evening, wanting to avoid anything that might scare her. “I’ll show you some of the security footage in the morning. It would be helpful if you could look through it for familiar faces, anyone you know but wouldn’t generally expect to see at an event such as this. Anyone you’ve had unpleasant experiences with.”
She moved into the kitchen, just a little way from the table and, laptop now closed, Noah followed, for no reason other than that he wanted to be close to her. It was a bad idea. In the tiny space, all he could focus on was her bare, tantalizing legs, and his brain was suddenly shot to pieces.
“Why don’t you sit down,” he suggested, hoping she’d move out of the kitchen and choose one of the bar seats, out of his line of sight. “I’ll make a sandwich.”
“You’re sure?”
