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Max shook his head, some of his brown hair falling in front of his eyes. He brushed it away. His dark locks looked thick and soft.
“I never asked you to do that.”
The conversation circled back, but it still didn’t make sense. “No, but I had a way to help you, so I did.”
“You wanted tohelpme? Why would you do that? Don’t you get off on ruining lives?” He sneered at me, and it wasn’t a good look for him. I didn’t know Max, but there were ways to tell when people behaved in a way natural to them or not. It was like the muscles on his face didn’t really work in that direction.
Max was a smiler. Just not at me, which was fine. “Maybe I’ve turned over a new leaf?”
“That’s what you want to say? That you’ve turned over a new leaf.”
I sighed. “You sought me out, Max, not the other way around. What is it you want me to say? I’ve apologized. You’ve said there is no making it right. I get that, and I agree because I can’t undo my past actions. But I could get you the peaches, so I did.”
He took a long deep breath like he was counting to ten. I’d certainly done that enough myself over the years.
“Do you know how hard it is to run a restaurant?”
I shook my head as I sat down on the edge of the desk. He was right—I really should get more furniture. It would be nice to have something more comfortable for things like the lecture I was currently sitting through.
He was waiting for an answer. “I don’t, actually.”
“There are a million things that go on beyond cooking and serving food. The financials are miserable. I have investors to answer to—a highbrow problem, considering how lucky I was to find any after what happened with Hayley’s. Nationwide, sixty percent of restaurants don’t make it past their first year. The odds against success are higher here.”
I nodded. Most things were harder in Manhattan. “You have a hit. My guess would be you’re going to make it.”
“Yes, but my point is, I can’t have you fucking with my life again, Hope. Maybe you meant to do a good thing, and yes, I needed the peaches. So thank you for that. It did make desertone hundred times easier. But whatever this is? Whatever game you’re playing, it needs to stop.”
Now that I could answer. “It’s not a game.”
“Just stop. Stay out of my life. You can’t make things better for me. That’s not a possibility. If you actually want to make things right, leave me alone.”
I swallowed. “Listen, maybe you’re right—maybe leaving you alone would’ve been smarter, but I don’t agree that it is. I don’t want to make things harder for you, but I believe that I can make at least small reparations for my actions. And you can’t stop me from trying to make little things, like peaches, better.”
This time when he spoke, he pointed at me. “You’re not welcome in my restaurant, so you’re never going to know what I need again.”
Unfortunately, he was likely right—it wasn’t like I could magically predict what Max needed for the dang restaurant. Drat. He had a point. He turned to leave, and I took a long look at his tight ass. Fuck. There was something wrong with me. That man hated me. The first guy I was sexually attracted to in five years, and he didn’t even want me to get him any more fruit.
Max stopped, turning around. “Do all rich heiresses have this much security? Someone want to steal your designer bags?”
Now that was low, and he hadn’t gone to that level before. I’d take abuse where it was earned, but not in that way. “No, actually. But see, twenty-one months ago, my sister was kidnapped at gunpoint in Paris by Russian mobsters. They held her for two days and shaved her head. Then that security you’re pointing to—the one on the left specifically, with the dark hair? He was part of the group that got her out, also at gunpoint. Now, my father, who is a fugitive from the law, is hiding in Russia with my brother. The Russians could show up at any point to kill me.”
I deliberately told him the story like I was recounting a funny anecdote and not recounting the worst memory of my life orthe new situation that made me constantly on edge and under surveillance. He’d obviously searched for me on the Internet to get my office address, so it surprised me that he might not know. Maybe Max had a singular ability to focus on small things or maybe he hadn’t looked hard enough when he’d searched?
All of that information was pretty quickly accessed about me. I knew it was, because I occasionally looked to see what people were saying. I had a reputation to uphold, which was why my clients came to me to begin with. The socialite with the bad past who could get attention to their causes. The full circle of my life.
His mouth fell open. “Really?”
“Yep.” I smiled. “So you see, I’ve had kind of a shit life. I’m not an heiress. My father is broke, and he’s hiding from the FBI. I earn a ton of money. I made my famous-being-famous self rather wealthy based on my skills. The same sheer determination to not end up a cautionary tale means that if I want to send you some hard to get fruit, I’m going to, and there isn’t a thing you can do about it.”
This time, he stormed from my office.
I forced myself to not stare at his ass again. I had to learn to control myself. If my sex drive was back online, I could get in trouble if I weren’t careful.
Control was, after all, how I got through every day.
It was why the world worked for me.
I sat listeningto my friends gab over tapas. I drank my seltzer while watching them enjoy their sangrias, but my mind kept traveling back to Max. What was I going to do about the fact that I couldn’t figure out how to help him again?
