“I’m aware you and Rylan dated… what, several years ago?”His tone made the gap in time sound like an accusation.“But perhaps now isn’t the moment—or the place—to chase after a flame that went cold a long time ago.”
The precision of his phrasing left no room for misunderstanding.It wasn’t a suggestion; it was a dismissal.
“Why don’t we catch up instead?”he added, his voice dropping lower, though the bite in his words was impossible to miss.“I’ve been dying to hear about your latest… adventures.”
It wasn’t a suggestion.
Her laugh came out thinner now—tight, brittle around the edges—and the weak protests she murmured were more for appearances than genuine resistance.Still, she dragged her heels just enough to signal she wasn’t ready to abandon the prize she’d been pursuing.Max didn’t tighten his grip or raise his voice, but the quiet, unyielding authority in his manner left her with no real choice.
People moved aside instinctively as they passed, not because Max shoved through the crowd, but because his presence made it clear that standing in his way was unwise.
Just before they melted into the sea of mingling guests, Max looked over his shoulder.His gaze locked on Rylan’s with surgical precision.The slow lift of one brow was deliberate, carrying more weight than words ever could.It wasn’t just acknowledgment—it was a quiet warning.You owe me.And I will collect.
“That man deserves to be canonized,” Rylan muttered, a reluctant smirk tugging at his mouth as soon as he stood next to Natalie again.
Natalie arched a brow, still processing.“He didn’t seem entirely thrilled about dealing with the woman.”
“Oh, he wasn’t,” Rylan replied dryly, his gaze flicking back to where Max now leaned against the bar, the clingy woman standing just a touch too stiff beside him.“Janice is a…,” he paused, as if trying to find the right word, then ended with, “She can be a challenge.”He then shook his head and turned away from the now-departing couple.“He’ll make me pay for this later.Max doesn’t let debts go unpaid.”
Natalie followed his gaze, watching Max manage the exchange with an almost unnerving ease—each gesture purposeful, each smile measured.There was nothing hurried, nothing wasted.But beneath that smooth exterior, she caught a flicker in his eyes—something cold and unspoken—that hinted he was a man it would be unwise to cross.
She turned back to Rylan.“That woman was… something.”
“Max can handle her.He’s had practice with obnoxious women.”Rylan’s voice lowered slightly as he tilted his head.“I thought he was seeing someone serious in Seattle.I heard it didn’t end well.”
“What happened?”Natalie asked before she could stop herself.
Rylan’s jaw flexed.“I’m not exactly sure.Max isn’t the confiding sort.”The finality in his tone shut the door on the subject, and Natalie let it drop, though a curious pang of sympathy for Max settled in her chest.
“Come on,” Rylan said, his warm hand finding the small of her back again, guiding her toward the auction room.“Let’s go see how much money these people are willing to burn.”
As they walked, Natalie glanced over her shoulder.Max stood at the bar, angled slightly toward Janice, his expression unreadable.He was saying something she couldn’t hear, and Janice—still smiling—shifted just enough to put another inch between them.
Rylan’s voice was low when he spoke again.“Don’t worry about Max.He’s very good at what he does.”Natalie looked up at him, startled by the quiet weight in his words.“But even he,” Rylan added, eyes lingering on Max, “doesn’t walk away from some things completely unscathed.”
The heaviness in his tone made her want to ask more, to understand the kind of hurt that could leave a man like Max with shadows in his eyes.But something in Rylan’s expression told her now wasn’t the time.Whatever those scars were, they belonged to Max—and he guarded them as fiercely as he guarded everything else.
Instead, she nodded—a quiet acknowledgment of his insight—and let her curiosity about Max slip away as they continued walking.But as they moved, something in Rylan’s demeanor shifted.
His hand lingered at the small of her back, the heat of his touch radiating through the thin fabric of her dress.It wasn’t just contact—it was steady, assured, almost possessive.He wasn’t merely guiding her; he was grounding her.Claiming a shared space between them without uttering a word.
The gallery around them blurred, the soft hum of conversation and warm lighting dissolving into the background until there was only him.His hand.His presence.The quiet authority in the way he walked beside her, the subtle flex of his fingers against her spine like a silent reminder that he was there—and that he wasn’t letting go.
“Most people are heading into the auction room,” he murmured, his voice low enough that she felt it more than heard it.
It took her a beat to process his words.She blinked, forcing her gaze away from the floor in front of her and noticing the flow of guests moving toward a set of double doors.“Right,” she said, though the word came out gruff, distracted.
Rylan didn’t move his hand, and Natalie’s pulse jumped at the realization of how badly she wanted it to stay there.The intensity of her own reaction startled her.A simple touch shouldn’t unravel her like this, and yet here she was—hyperaware of the warm press of his palm, the steady strength behind it.
Her mind betrayed her, trading thoughts of the auction for something far more dangerous.She pictured his hand sliding from her back to her waist, drawing her closer until their shoulders brushed.She imagined him leaning down, his lips grazing hers, the entire gallery melting away into silence as the tension between them snapped and gave way to something fierce and consuming.
By the time they reached the auction room, she was fighting the ridiculous urge to stop walking and suggest they go somewhere—anywhere—private.Somewhere they could test the boundaries of this pull between them.
She bit down gently on her lip, ordering herself to remember why they were here.Friendship, she reminded herself firmly.This was about friendship.
But when they stepped through the doors and his hand finally left her back, the loss was immediate and sharp, like someone had just cut a thread she hadn’t realized was keeping her steady.She followed him to their seats, telling herself it was for the best, even as her skin still burned from where his touch had been.
She was a fool.She didn’t want a relationship—not really.But did she want Rylan?Did she want several hours…days…in his bed?
