Caught by Emma Louise
Chapter Twenty-Three
"Someone will see us." Arching my neck, I shift enough to give Max more access to land kisses on me. We're in the break room at the office, and he's cornered me by the coffee machine. He has me caged in with his strong arms, his hips pushing into mine.
"Don't care," he growls against my skin, and I'm not sure if it's the feeling of his warm breath on my skin or the words he says, but something causes a rash of goose bumps to race over me, the small hairs on my neck standing on end.
It's Monday, our first day in the office since we started ... whatever it is we've started. The weekend passed by in the blink of an eye. Max was at home with us all the time, but he gave Cass and me space to do mother/daughter things, but he was present too. We stole quick touches and kisses while she wasn't paying attention, and when she was in bed all bets were off. I spent the night in his bed again, but I woke before Cass so she wouldn't know I was missing.
This morning, he insisted that he drive us to kindergarten and then to work. He had a phone call come through before we made it here, so I came inside on my own while he stayed in the car a bit longer. And that brings us to now. I’m seconds away from begging him to push my skirt up and take me right here.
"You don't care?" I ask, unsure of what he means by that because there has been no discussion on how we’re supposed to act in front of the guys. I assumed we wouldn’t be flaunting anything, but by the way he’s acting, I think Max might have other ideas. His huge hands land on my hips, before I'm being spun around to face him.
"No. I don't give a shit. Let them see." He stares down at me with hard eyes. "Unless you have an issue with the guys knowing we're together?" he accuses nonsensically. Little does he know I would be shouting it out for the whole world to know if I could.
"We're together?" It’s my turn to ask a dumb question.
"Darcey," he growls at me. "What the fuck do you think we're doing here?" My eyes drop to his chest, where my fingers are splayed across his firm pecs.
"Well, you never actually said what this is, so..."
"I didn't think I needed to. I thought we were on the same page."
"How can I be on the same page if I don't know which page that is?" I ask hesitantly.
"What do you need from me? You need me to ask you to be my girlfriend? Newsflash, Darcey, I'm not exactly that kind of man." Despite the harsh set of his face, I can't help but laugh a little, my lips rolling together to try to stop it from escaping.
"No, I don't need you to ask that. But we're..." I trail off, hoping he'll jump in and finish the sentence for me.
"Together," he says, tightening his hold on me. "And now I think it's probably a good idea if we do show everyone here that too." Narrowing my eyes, I glare up at him.
"I think it's better if we keep the PDA to a minimum until you get your situation resolved," I snap, feeling off kilter. This conversation isn’t one I thought we would be having today, not here anyway.
"That isn't something you need to be concerned about."
"Look, I get that you're a man and all," I start, using air quotes. "And I need to trust that you can get things fixed, but that doesn't mean I'm not going to be concerned, Max. She isn't going to go away quietly, is she?" Tucking his finger under my chin, he lifts my face to look at him. "I don't want to do something that jeopardizes whatever you have planned, including flaunting whatever we are for her to find out."
"You won’t jeopardize anything. Just trust me, please?"
"Okay," I concede, probably too easily, but I get the feeling that when he asks me to trust him, he really needs that from me.
"Now, kiss your man so we can both go get some work done." Without giving me time to argue further, he drops his lips to mine, and his tongue invades my mouth. I melt into him, letting myself get lost in all that is Max Arden.
"Wow, okay. Wasn't expecting to walk in on that this morning." Pulling away, I bury my face in Max's chest as heat hits my cheeks.
"Mornin'," Max says, and I feel his chest moving as he laughs lightly. God. I could get used to this side of him. The softer, lighter side that he chooses not to show very often. Looking around him, I find Crew leaning against the door frame, arms across his chest, and a wide smile on his face.
"Morning." I wave like a goof at him, hoping the heat I feel in my face isn't obvious to him.
"You good?" Crew asks me, but I look up to Max before I answer. He gives me the softest smile, and my belly flips at the sight of it.
"Better than good," I say, not taking my eyes off the man who is still holding me tightly.
"Good to hear, sweetheart."
"You got a minute to go over that thing you asked me to look into?" Crew asks Max.
"Darcey knows I'm stepping up shit; there's no need to keep it from her," Max tells him, and I don't miss the startled look that flits across Crew's face. It's gone before it ever fully forms, but I know what I saw. Why would he be surprised that Max is being open with me? I file that thought away to ponder in more detail later.
"You guys go talk about whatever it is you need to be doing. I have work to get on with." I try to push Max back a step so that I can get on with making coffee, but he doesn't budge an inch.
"Kiss me," he demands gruffly.
"Max—" My complaint is stolen from my lips when Max presses his mouth to mine. It's a swift, hard kiss, but I'm still left off kilter when he releases his hold on me, turns on a booted foot, and leaves the room. I don't miss the grin that Crew throws his way as they both leave me standing there wondering what the heck just happened.
* * *
"You avoiding me now?" Lifting my head from the stack of mail that I'm almost finished opening, I watch Felix approach my desk. I can't immediately tell if he's joking or not. His usually smiling face is schooled into a blank stare.
"Why would I do that?"
“I called and texted you more than once over the weekend, and never got a response," he says, still not giving away how he feels about that. A blush hits my face as I think of why I was too busy to answer the multiple messages I received, not just from Felix, but from Natalie too. "It's been a busy few days. I'm sorry."
"You good?" he repeats the question that Crew asked me a few hours before. I realize right then how lucky I am to have found this amazing group of guys that I can now call friends. After so many years of being totally alone, I'm not used to having friends I need to be somewhat accountable to. It’s a strange, but not at all unpleasant realization to come to.
"I'm good."
"He better be good to you."
"What?" I ask, unsure of how he would know about Max and me. Max doesn't seem like the kind to go sharing his personal business with people. "What are you talking about?"
"Come on... you should know by now how much we love to gossip here." He laughs, but I can still see a slither of unease in his eyes. “When you left on Friday, it got a little heated here,” he says, and my stomach twists at the thought of there being drama because of me. “Max threw down, told us all that you were his, and that was that.”
I’m his? A host of emotions run through me at his words, and I probably shouldn’t be so happy about them, but I can’t deny that I am. I’m ridiculously happy about it.
"You sure you know what you're doing?" Felix asks again, breaking through my thoughts about Max.
"Nope," I reply immediately because it's the truth. I have no idea if I'm doing the right thing or if I'm diving headfirst into something that won’t end well. "But being with him, letting him in? It feels right, Felix." He studies me for a second before he pastes his trademark cocky grin on his face.
"That's all I needed to hear, beautiful."
"Are you done playing big brother now, so I can get back to work?" I mask the emotions I feel burning at the back of my eyes with a little bit of sass. I'm completely overwhelmed with all that's happened today, and I need a minute to process it all.
"Sure. Although, I wouldn't say no to a coffee if there's one going." Felix winks as he raps a knuckle on my desk before he walks away. He knows I'm not a fan of showing weakness, so he’s throwing some of my own sass back at me to make sure I don't give in to the tears I feel brewing.
"I'll get right on that," I drawl, rolling my eyes and earning a loud bark of laughter as he disappears down the hallway. Grabbing the last of the envelopes on my desk, I rip them open. The first couple contain nothing out of the ordinary, but the last is definitely ... odd. The heavy cream envelope is addressed to me, not the company.
The handwriting is neat, thick black inky lines that slant across the paper. Unease slithers up my spine as I stare at the envelope like it might grow fangs and bite me at any second. My gut screams at me to shred it and throw it in the recycling bin without even opening it. My brain tells me to get a grip and open the damn thing already. My brain wins, and I slide my finger under the seal to open it. The paper inside matches the envelope, and it feels silky, expensive to the touch. Fear, no, straight-up terror grips me by the throat when I read the note.
Time's up, sweet girl.
You didn't think it was going to be that easy, did you?
I'll see you and the kid soon.
I desperately try to suck in air that just isn't there as I try to make sense of what I'm seeing. It isn't possible. It can't be real. This has to be a dream, a nightmare, because I can't be looking at a note from the man who
almost ruined me, who almost killed me and my daughter.
It can't be real because that man is dead.
I know he is because I'm the one who killed him.