I nodded.
He leaned in slightly, his smirk returning. “Does he fuck better than me?”
I wasn’t under Max’s influence for lust; I was under his influence because he had my damn money.
“He’s married,” I said, shaking my head.
I thought of Max. I thought of the way I’d tried, once, to sleep with him for leverage. Not because I wanted him, but because I’d thought it might give me power. A card to play. A foothold in a world that felt like it was slipping out from under me.
But Max had shut that down instantly.
That was when I figured it out. He didn’t want anyone but Rosalie.
Max was whipped. Obsessed. He’d killed three men just to have her. Burned bridges no amount of money could ever rebuild, and I’d bet he’d do it again without hesitation. He’d burn the entire world for her smile, even if she frowned a second later.
It was ridiculous. It was terrifying. And it was the kind of love I knew I’d never have.
“And?” Sebastian said with a pause. “That’s never stopped you before.”
“Nice.” I rolled my eyes, jumped off the counter, and grabbed onto his arm to steer him toward the door.
I wasn’t a whore. That was what he was implying, wasn’t it? He hadn’t directly said it, but he didn’t need to. It wasn’t true. In fact, Sebastian was the only man I’d slept with while I was still married to Cillian. All three years.
It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even an affair in the traditional sense. It was an escape. A distraction. Something to remind me I still existed as a person outside of my husband’s ambitions, his messes, his constant pushing for more.
Cillian hadn’t been a bad man. He was charming in his own way. Endlessly determined to prove himself to men who’d never really see him as an equal. But he was distant. Obsessed with his work, his legacy. By the time Sebastian had come into the picture, my marriage was already a transaction.
I barely knew Cillian. Maybe that was why I didn’t allow myself to feel guilty when Sebastian kissed me for the first time. While Sebastian wasn’t the first man who’d tried to flirt with me at one of Cillian’s boring political parties, he was the first I hadn’t brushed off.
He wasn’t subtle—the Callahan’s never were—but there was something about him that made it easy to forget where the lines were supposed to be.
I had a habit of attracting men I should stay far,faraway from.
“Alright,” he murmured as he lifted himself away from me, making his way to the door. “I’ll get out of your hair for now.”
“For now?” I asked, raising an eyebrow as I followed behind him. I could see the smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“You know how this works,” he said as if I should already be aware. “You’ll come back to me when you need something. You always do.”
Asshole.I didn’t bother arguing, but I did manage a quiet scoff.
As he backed out of my apartment, I moved to close the door, hoping it would hit him on the way out. But instead something caught my eye. A blacked-out Mercedes parked at the edge of the curb. It was the classic PI car, with windows tinted so dark they reflected the glow of the streetlights.
A sudden wave of cold ran its way down my back.
Was I overthinking? It could’ve been nothing—a car waiting for someone, parked in the wrong place at the wrong time.
No, it wasn’t.
I wasn’t overthinking, and I wasn’t stupid.
I was being followed.
CHAPTER 10
MARCO
The past month had been a masterclass in wasting my time.
