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“You’re fucking crazy.” I swat at his hands and they release my chin. He’s already killed for me. I turn away from him, grasping the counter once again.
“Crazy for you, Sienna. Only you. The sooner you come to terms with this the better.”
I stare at him through the mirror, his face distorting into something tender and warm. Quick as a flash, his mood can change instantly.
“Let me take you home. I know you don’t want to be here any longer.” I wish I could argue, but the truth is I want to leave.
“Griffin needs a walk still. I didn’t get a chance to do it earlier.”
“We’ll walk Brute together.” I ignore the fact he’s renamed my dog and follow his lead once he places his hand on my lower back.
I get no message from Dante wondering where I went. When I double-check my phone, Max’s smirk grows as if he knows what I’m checking, but good for him he doesn’t comment.
Stepping out of his car, he leaves it in a no-parking zone. Once again, I zip my lips. If he wants his car towed, it’s his own problem.
Max makes himself at home gathering Griffin’s stuff. The big lug is even happier to see him than me. “Oh, stop pouting.” He nudges me. “We bonded over ice cream.”
My nose scrunches up. “I’m far from pouting.”
He hands me the leash and I want to tell him to keep it, but then it would look like I’m sulking. I take it with a smile before remembering I’m still wearing my fancy dress. One hand involuntarily slides down the silky material.
“You look beautiful in it, keep it on.”
I hate that he suggests it, because I’m not ready to get out of the dress. I don’t want him thinking I’m staying in it because he prefers it. Too tired to put up a fight, I slip my heels off, lowering a few inches before I slip on my Vans. I glance up at him, expecting to see a smug expression, but it’s completely neutral, not giving away what he’s thinking. I look back down, Skater shoes and a gown don’t go together, but who’s here to judge?
He opens the door for me and Griffin, but my dumb dog sits and waits for him to cross the threshold first.
“Why were you at the clubhouse that night?” I’ve been trying to recall every memory I have of that night and he’s nowhere in it. How did I catch his attention, when I never saw him?
Max takes a step and pats his leg. “Come on, Brute.” And lo and behold, my dog follows. I blow out a breath, walking in front of Max and bringing my dog with me to the street.
“You just talking to fill the silence, or do you really want to know?” He looks down at me. “I’m not a lying man, and I don’t plan to sugarcoat the truth either. This is who I am, and I want you to know the real me because I’m not sure if anyone in my life really does.”
I don’t answer right away.DoI want to know? This seems like a situation where the less I know, the better.
Max surprises me by continuing to talk. He’s not normally a talkative guy, but he seems to be in a good mood since I agreed to go home with him. “You have to admit, Griffin doesn’t suit a dog like him. Brute is a much better name. Think of it like he chose his name.”
I look to Griffin, then to Max, frowning. Griffin was a rescue and already had a name when I got him. “But he didn’t, you did.”
Max chuckles, matching my strides. It’s Brute who’s lagging behind with his huge size. “You sure are cute when you’re trying to be spicy.”
I stop at the end of the street, and Brute slowly catches up at his own leisurely pace with no worries in the world. Max places his hand on my lower back before the three of us cross the road.
“Stop distracting me. Why were you at the clubhouse?”
He removes his hand from my lower back. “I was there to kill your father.”
I love my father, because he raised me, and that’s what a daughter should do. It’s hard to fault him for the things he’s done, even forcing me to marry someone I didn’t want to. At the end of the day, I’ve always hoped that if I went back home, he would protect me and prove to everyone it wasn’t me who killed his best friend.
“Was that business or pleasure?” I joke, but his face stays serious.
“He was pleasure. It’s the only reason I allowed myself to get distracted with you.”
“What are you? What do you do, Max?”
He slides his arm up and loops it around my shoulder. The warmth cuts the night’s edge and helps to keep me from shivering.
“I’m a butcher by trade. Most people in my world call me that by name and not Max. My brother is the Don of an Italian mafia family.”
