“You could start an argument in an empty room—do you know that?”
Without wasting a second, I said, “And you could clear one just by stepping into it.”
With a confident stride, I stepped ahead of him, ready to leave his sorry ass behind. But instead it wasmyass that felt a sudden sting on its surface.
I stood still.
I couldn’t believe it.
The man had actually slapped my ass.
Turning on my heels, I confronted him, shock clouding my judgment. “Ex?—”
“Get your ass in the car,” he demanded, leaving no room for argument. There was something in this eye—something that dared me to defy him.
“You’d better watch yourself there,macho.” With one last glare, I stepped past him, determined not to let him see how much he got under my skin.
But as I walked to the car, I couldn’t help but smile.
Damn that man.
CHAPTER 38
ROSALIE
The drive to the marina was a short one, but the anticipation made it feel a lot longer. Max helped me out of the car when we arrived, holding onto my hand tightly. The yacht was massive, its sleek white hull shining under the setting sun. The name “Zvezda” was painted in elegant cursive writing on its side, and the deck was well-lit with soft golden light.
A crew member greeted us at the small bridge, offering us a nod as he led us on board.
Max didn’t let go of my hand as we stepped onto the boat. I steadied myself, holding onto his arm as I walked across the wobbly deck in my heels. I didn’t want to admit it, but I liked it when he touched me. When he held onto me like this.
The yacht’s deck was even more impressive up close, with polished wood floors and plenty of seating along the walls. As Max guided me through the space, his hand fell to the small of my back. I could hear the murmur of conversation and laughter, which only made my nerves worse.
Max moved his hand to my stomach, pulling me in close. “Hey,” he began. “I need you to take this seriously. Your attitude stays at the door, got it?”
My mouth fell slightly. “Bite me,” I argued, stepping in front of him and rolling my eyes.
“Tempting,” I heard him mumble.
We reached the dining area, which was set up with a long table covered in crisp white linens, fine china, and sparkling glasses of champagne. At the head of the table was a man with salt-and-pepper hair and a commanding stare. His sharp eyes scanned the entire room in a single glance. Beside him was a woman—by the looks of it, Max’s mother. She had the same sharp nose and round eyes as Max. Her dark hair was pulled back into a twist, her smile bright as she laughed with the person across from her.
She was talking with Valentina, who sipped on a glass of vodka where she sat right next to my mother. Margot was on her other side.
Great.
“Max!” his mother exclaimed as she approached us. She embraced Max, then she turned to me with a smile. “You must be the lovely lady we’ve heard so much about.”
Max’s father stepped forward, his handshake firm but not overbearing. I could see where Max got his looks and his height from.
“Welcome. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” he said.
“Thank you for having me,” I replied, hoping my voice sounded steadier than I felt. I was already messing this up, wasn’t I? “It’s an honor to be here.”
Anhonor?What the hell was I even saying?
Max’s hand found its way to my back again, and he brushed his thumb softly against the opening of the dress. As we moved to take our seats, he pulled out a chair for me and took a seat right beside mine, resting his hand possessively on my knee under the table.
Max leaned in closer, his breath warm against my ear. “You’re doing great.”
