I smiled. He frowned.
“Thanks for the drink.” I licked my lips and left his sorry ass at the bar.
As I walked away, I knew he was watching me. He always did, but this time, it felt like he wasfollowingme. Just to be sure, I stopped a stranger.
“Is there a tall man in a black suit following me?”
The stranger squinted. Then, with a slow turn of his head, he looked behind me. “Yeah. He’s back there.”
I forced a tight smile. “Thanks,” I muttered before hurrying away.
The murmur of the dinner party faded slightly the farther away I got. MyValentinoscontinued to echo on the floor until I reached the other side of the wall, only a few feet away fromthe crowd. Max moved right by my side, his suit jacket brushing against my skin.
“The supervision,” I drawled, “isn’t exactly necessary.”
“I didn’t think so,” he said, planting his feet right in front of mine. “Then you practically inhaled my Macallan 18 and chased it down with your martini as if it were fruit juice.”
My amusement faltered for a moment. “Then perhaps you shouldn’t have spent the entire evening practically setting my dress on fire with your glares,” I countered.
His gaze dropped to my lips, lingering longer than it should’ve. “You looked like you were enjoying your time with Jackson,” he said.
Oh . . . new territory.
“Jealous, are we?” I teased. He was paying attention to me again—that much was clear.
“I didn’t realize you had a thing for dads now.”
DidI? Not necessarily.
“He was a handsome one, wasn’t he?” I replied, batting my lashes innocently, trying to see how far I could push him.
“Stop testing me.”
He was losing his patience. A part of me felt a rush at his possessiveness. I liked it. There was something undeniably attractive about a man on edge, especially if that man was Max.
“I’d be a good mother,” I continued, meeting his gaze head-on, my chin held high.
“You’d make an even better gold-digger—if you found anyone willing, that is.”
“Bastard.”
I wanted to order another drink—one to throw at him, so I could watch the icy liquid splash against his smug face.
Max had a tendency to make my mouth drop, and not with any feeling of awe. Annoyance, maybe. Frustration. I couldn’t stand the man and his stupidity. How could such a handsomeguy say something so mean? It felt like I was dancing on the edge of a knife each time I spoke with him, and for some inexplicable reason, it was difficult to tear myself away.
His proximity made it difficult to think straight.
“That mouth of yours will get you in trouble someday,” he finally drawled. Each syllable that left his mouth felt like a pebble landing in a still pond, rippling outward and disturbing the calm surface.
“Mymouth?”
A small smirk played on his lips. “Yeah,” he said, drawing out the word, “and that whole attitude you carry around with you. All that fire and defiance.”
I crossed my arms defensively. “Myattitude?”
He laughed. “Your attitude is?—”
“If you have any sense of self-preservation,” I interrupted, my voice gaining strength, “nevercomment on a woman’s attitude. Men are the only reason we have one anyway.”
