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Chapter 13
Maxslidthetakeforthenightintothesafeand twisted thedial. Theopening had gonereallywell. They’d nearlydoubled their projected profit,all his staff worked andworked hard and therehadn’t been anysecurityissues. All in all, Maxfeltpretty damn proud ofhimself. Ithad all cometogether perfectly.
Helooked atthetimeonhisphone. Itwashalf pastfour,and hewasthelastonethere. He’d senteveryonehomeatfour when they’dclosed the doorsof Temptation for thenight—or morning—whicheverway you looked atit.Pulling thesuitjacketfromthe backofhis chair,Maxslid intoitand paused when hesmelled Gigion it. Shemusthaveleant up againstitwhileshewas studying. Heinhaled deeply,catching thesweet,fruityscentsof hershampoo.
Flicking off hisofficelights,Maxstrodedown the hallwaytotherearentrance. Making surehe had thekeysforthebuilding in hispocket,hesetthealarmand slidoutside.Itwasstill dark,buthe could alreadyfeel theheatof the dayinfiltrating thepre-dawn. He’dthoughtLAwasbad in summer, butithad nothing on NewYork,although theheatand humidityweredifferent here. Keeping his head down,Maxwalked backtohisapartment. Thestreetswereemptyexceptfor a fewgroupsof club goersmaking theirwayhome,and thestreetsweeper doingtherounds.
Hewashomeinlessthan fifteenminutes.Hepulled out thesparesetofkeysfor theapartment building and lethimselfin. When hegotto hisplace,heslidthekeyintothelock,theteeth chattering along thetumbler tooloudlyin thenear silence. Therewasjust onelampon in theliving room,and Maxshutthedoor softlybehind himso he didn’tdisturb Gigi.
Shewasasleepon thecouch. Therewasacup ofwhatlooked tobetea sitting besidethecouch and her textbookwas onthecushion besideher.Picking thebookup,heputiton thefloor,then tooktheblanketfromtheback ofthecouchand laid itoverherbody. Then hedid something really fucking stupid.
Someof hersilky hair had fallen acrossherface. Hereachedoutand pushed thestraylock backoff herforehead,then lethisfingertipstrail gentlyoverhercheek. Sheexhaled and turned her head into histouch. Stunned, Maxretracted hishand and straightened.
Hedidn’tknowwhatitwasabouther. Theinitial attractionwasbecauseshedidn’tlookanything likeChelsea,buttherewasmoretoherthanthat. Shewasintelligent,buthecould tell that under all thebookishness,she hada razorwitand asense ofhumorhe’d liketoexplore…if only hecould get hishead outofhisassaboutwomen screwing himover.
“Damnyou,Chelsea,” hesaid under hisbreath andmoved toturnoffthelamp.Theapartment wasplunged intodarknessforonlyasecond beforeMax’s eyesadjusted. Like in LA, itwasnever truly darkin NewYorkCity.Therewasalwaysambientlightleaking in fromsomewhere,making theapartment justlightenough toseewherehewasgoing without bumping intoeverything.
Opening up hisbedroomdoor,hetookoff hisjacketand hung itup. Hisfingersmadeshortworkof thetieand thebuttonsathisthroat.Pulling thetailsoftheshirtfromhispants,heshucked that too,his slacksfalling tothe ground besideit. In justhisboxer briefs,hewalkedouttothebathroom totakea shower.
Thefeelof the hotwateron his bodymadehim groansoftly. Itwashitting all therightspots, washing awaythetension in hisshouldersand neck. Keeping itbrief,heturned off thetapsand steppedoutontothetile.Wrapping a towelaround hiships,hecreptbacktohisroomwherehe collapsed intobed.
*
Maxwokethenextmorning tothesmell of bacon cooking and coffeebrewing. Picking up his phone fromthebedsidetable,helookedatthenumbers.Wasitonlyeighto’clock?He’dgottenthree hoursofsleep,anditwasn’tenoughifhehadtoworkagainthatnight.Puttingonapairofjeans thathadbeenlyingonthefloor,hestaggered outintothekitchen.Erinwasplaying on the ruginthe livingroomwhileGigiwasatthecooktop,spatulain hand.She’dobviouslymadeherselfalotmore familiarwith his apartmentthan hehad,becauseshewaswearing an apron hecertainlydidn’t own.
Shewassingingtoherself softly,awirerunningfromherjeans’pockettoherear.Shespun around,andshesawhim. Ablushfannedacrosshercheeks.Poppingthebudfromherear,shesaid, “I didn’thearyou comein.”
“I’mnotsurprised,”heshotback. Gigi blinked athim,clearlyshocked byhis attitude. When helet a smallsmilecreepontohisfeatures,sherelaxed.
“I’m makingbreakfast.Youinterested?”sheasked,pullingamugfromone ofthecupboardsand filling itup with coffee. Sheslid itover tohim.
“Thanks,”hesaid,pickingitupandtakingashallowsip.Hedidn’tneedanyofthosefancy-ass creamers a lot of other people took; heliked ithotand strong.“And breakfastwould begreat.”
Shegrinned athimandturned backaround tothegriddle. Hesatbackand watched herwork, moving smoothlybetween thecooktop and thetoaster,all thewhiletaking sipsfromherown coffee cup.
“Whatwereyou listening to?”heasked.
Herblush madea return appearance.“Oh…justa bitof Taylor Swift.She’s—”
“I knowwhosheis,”hesaid,cutting hershort.“I’velistened tosomeofhermusic.”
“You have?”shesqueaked.
“Isthatsohard tobelieve?”
Insteadofanswering,Gigispunaroundandattendedtothebacon.Afewmomentslater,she placed a platein frontof him.He looked down atthesmall feastand hismouthstarted towater.
“Thislooksgood.”
“Thanks,”shereplied,placinganidenticalplatedownbesidehim.Shesatdownandtheyboth ate.“Max?”
“Yeah?”
“Why didn’tyouwake mewhen you camein?Ishould’vegonehome.”
“You looked too peaceful lying there. You needed thesleep.”
Shestaredintohiseyes,andhewantedhertobestaringupathimwhilelyinginhisbed.He shookhisheadand focused on eating hisbreakfast.
