Max didn’t even try to deny it. He was shameless, calculating, and disturbingly self-aware—basically everything Marco wasn’t, except for their mutual allergy to basic human communication.
“He’s good at what he does,” Max said simply, as if that justified everything. “And I’d rather he keep doing it than deal with whatever chaos you decide to bring into his office today.”
I scoffed, pushing past him with more attitude than necessary, mostly because I knew it annoyed him. “Don’t be so dramatic, Max. I’m just delivering a package.”
He let out a short breath—the kind that wasn’t quite a laugh but held just enough condescension to be insulting. “You don’t ‘just do’ anything, Valentina.”
I smirked, refusing to admit he had a point. “Flattering.”
“Not meant to be.”
I rocked back on my heels. “You know, Rosalie has way more patience than I do. I have no idea how she puts up with you. She seems so ... normal.Sweet, even. So I have to ask, how exactly does someone like her put up with someone like you?”
“No clue. I’d ask, but I don’t want to give her any ideas.”
“Smart man. She is known for running from you.”
“She tried,” he admitted, like it was just a fact. “Didn’t get very far.”
No, she hadn’t. Not for lack of trying though.
I’d tried for her.
I’d spent months trying to keep Rosalie away from him, doing everything short of shoving her onto a plane myself. At first, I’d been subtle—nudging her toward other men, whispering little warnings when I knew she wasn’t listening properly. Then I’d gotten desperate. I’d “accidentally” spilled a drink on her at a gathering once, hoping the ruined dress would be enough of an excuse for her to leave early.
I’d tried to get leverage on Max—something to make him back off and see that whatever game he was playing with Rosalie wasn’t worth it. I’d even gone as far as to threaten him outright, telling him to let her go, leave her alone, pick someone else.
But nothing had worked. Not threats. Not logic. Not even the promise of war.
Max had wanted Rosalie, and so he’d had her. No matter how hard she’d fought it. No matter how much I’d tried to intervene.
He was still standing in front of me like he hadn’t made my life infinitely more complicated.
And me?
Well, instead of being married off to some stiff-suited businessman in Chicago, I was tied to Marco Grey.
Of all the things that could’ve gone wrong, that hadn’t even been on my radar.
Crazy how one decision, one shift in power, could change everything.
Max studied me for a long second as if he could see every thought running through my mind. Then, with the kind of casual arrogance only he could pull off, he smirked.
“I guess not,” I finally said. “Not even death could keep her safe from you.”
He smiled gently. “Nothing could keep her from me.”
I laughed. He was serious too. He was mad, actually. One of the craziest, most psychotic men I knew. “Some men send flowers. You dug her out of a grave.”
“It was your husband who suggested I look there in the first place.”
That made me pause.
Marco had told him to look there? I should’ve been surprised. Should’ve at the very least had some kind of reaction that would make me feel like a normal person.
But I didn’t.
I rolled my eyes, but I didn’t argue. Instead I pushed past him, stepping toward Marco’s office.
