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Chapter 11
Max
My phone rings, interrupting my brooding. I’ve been sitting in my home office with no lights on, drinking straight from the bottle for an hour. Even the damn kittens couldn’t cheer me up.
I check the screen. It’s Grayson. Thank god. The one person I won’t eviscerate on sight.
“Maximillian here.”
“You really screwed up this time, old boy.” Grayson jumps immediately into the meat of the conversation, reigniting my fury.
“I did not ‘screw up,’ as you say. I simply made the decision that was best for the company.” My words are so sharp they could cut through steel.
“Oh sure. It was for the company,” he says, his skepticism obvious. “Tell me, did you gather all the pertinent information and consider all the factors before making this decision?”
“What information?” I demand.
“Were you aware, brother, that Sloane went out with some friends the other night?” he asks. “And that those friends included Paige, Penny, and Lily?”
“Lily?” I blurt out, surprised.
“That’s right. According to my source, Sloane expressed some concern about your trip to the community nonprofit. She was worried about your intentions. My source also reports that neither Sloane, Penny, or Paige expressed any interest in receiving your financial attentions.”
At this point, I can’t help rolling my eyes at his use of the word “source.” It’s obvious the source is his wife, Lily. “Let’s be clear, Grayson. Are you saying Lily is the one who told them about our family tradition?”
Grayson loses his reporter persona, thank god. “Yes, Max. That’s what I’m telling you. Sloane had nothing to do with sharing our private information. She also doesn’t want your money. But you’ve certainly kicked the hornet’s nest. Lily has been on the phone for hours getting the complete story.”
Groaning, I pinch my nose.
“Max,” he says, voice soft and heavy. “Tell me you didn’t imply Sloane was a whore.”
Fuck. This time when my temper erupts, it’s myself I’m angry at.
“I bloody well can’t tell you that, Grayson.” I’m practically yelling into the phone. I slam my hand onto my desk. “Fuck. I made a mistake.”
Grayson adds his own curses, while I run a hand roughly through my hair. I need to fix this.
My god. I can’t believe I said those things.
Fuck. Yes, I can.
I’m an ass. Yes, I’m aware of what people call me, and it never bothered me. I’ve always had everything I could ever want. Name calling doesn’t hurt me, even if it’s somewhat deserved. But this time, my behavior could have consequences I’m not able to live with.
My mind races, searching for a solution but coming up empty.
“Grayson.” I set my pride to the side with the person I trust the most. “How do I fix this?”
He takes a deep breath, obviously considering his response. I can almost see him rubbing his chin in thought. “Fuck if I know, brother. You royally screwed up.”
“That’s not helpful.” I growl into the phone.
“Well, it needs to be something big.”
“Big? Like what?”
“Max, you need a fucking, like, Titanic-sized epic grand gesture.”
He’s right. I don’t even know if it’s possible to get out of the hole I dug for myself. It might be too deep, even for someone as generous as Sloane.
