“Do you know French?” I wondered.
“I do. My mama is from Saint-Germain-des-Pres.”
This was new territory. He’d never mentioned anything about his personal life before.
“Say something else to me.” My cheeks felt hot. I think I was blushing.
“No.”
“Oh, come on.”
“J’ai du mal à me concentrer quand tu es là.”
The words drew me in, and I had no idea what they meant. “What does that mean?” I asked.
He looked at me, his gaze intense. “It means you run your mouth too much.”
A blush crept to my cheeks. “Right,” I said sarcastically. “And how do I say, ‘You’re such a dirty liar’?”
“You don’t.”
I probed him with a few more questions until I got sick of getting no response. It was clear to me that he was trying to put up those walls of his again, and I couldn’t think of anything more dreadful.
Eventually, Max took me home.
It was the usual boring ride, with his security checks and his reluctance to leave. Strangely, I’d started to find some sort of comfort in him. I enjoyed my time with Max, even if he was a brute sometimes.
I thought about kissing him again. Did I want to kiss him because I ...likedhim, or because he was the only man who hadn’t died after touching my lips? It had to be the latter. There was no way I could ever find a man as grumpy and brooding as Max appealing.
He stood at the door. Then, just as he turned to leave, he reached into the pocket of his suit and pulled out a piece of paper. It took my eyes a second to register what was pinched between his fingers before he placed it down on the table next to the door with a thud.
It was a fifty.
CHAPTER 16
MAX
It wasn’t long before I found myself back in Liam’s office, sinking into the dreaded chair, listening to time pass by me. My shoulders tensed with aggravation as the door creaked open. Sean strutted in.
Perfect.
A quick huff of air was forced out of his chest when he leaned on the back of the chair right next to mine. The room had enough space to accommodate at least a dozen people, but he had to choose the seat closest to me.
“Have ya enjoyed the party last weekend?” Sean persisted as usual. He flicked his gaze to the cigarette, a question forming in his eyes before his own addiction could fully take hold. Maybe, just maybe, if I indulged his vice, he’d shut up, and this excruciating wait wouldn’t feel like an eternity.
I met his stare with a flat expression and then tossed the pack onto the table between us without a word.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, the irritation momentarily forgotten as he focused on finding his lighter deep in his pocket. “Any idea how long we’re stuck here?”
I shrugged. “Beats me.”
“Do you kn?—?”
“No.”
He had the habit of irritating me on a cellular level—a talent that felt more like a personal vendetta than a mere personality clash.
“What party?” I couldn’t help but let the curiosity eat away at me.
