No. Think!
He’d blindsided me—that’s right. How could I possibly forget? He’d gone behind my back for years.Ugh, I waspathetic. I wouldn’t be able to stay true to what I’d originally planned. The man was pulling on my heartstrings, making me doubt myself. Making me want him again.
Finally, I said, “Max, you’re acting as if I’ve committed some heinous crime. I’m late for breakfast, not robbing a bank.”
“It’s the principle of the matter,” he insisted. “It shows a lack of consideration.”
“And your rigid schedule shows a lack of flexibility,” I countered. “I’m not a morning person. I have my own way of doing things, and it works for me.”
“Your way of doing things is driving me crazy,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin.
“Good. Maybe you’ll finally see that not everyone can—or should—fit into your mold.”
“I’m not asking you to fit into a mold. I’m asking for a little respect and consideration.”
“And I’m asking for a little understanding. Maybe meet me halfway.”
“Halfway?”
“Yeah, halfway,” I repeated. “We can compromise. You know, like normal people do when they care about each other. We can meet for lunch.”
“Nine is the latest I can go.”
I shrugged. “Then I’ll be late.”
“You’re impossible.”
“Yet you still try.”
He was arrogant. Obsessive.Insistent.I hated him and that crooked smile of his.
I said I hated him, but I knew deep down it was impossible totrulyhate someone like Max. I was slowly forgiving him, and I couldn’t stop myself. I wanted him, and I was growing weak, torn between attraction and repulsion, hope and despair.Ugh, I couldn’t give in.
Max was aterribleman. He’d killed hundreds of people and betrayed even more—and that included me.
“For you, I will always try,” he said, pausing to think about his words carefully. “I want you to try with me. You may not like me, but you need to trust I have nothing but your best interests in mind.”
“That’s rich coming from you,” I admitted as I grabbed my usual from the table.
“I am nothing but an honest man to you, Rosalie.”
“Hmm.” I was unconvinced.
“Hmm,” he said, mocking me. There was a small flash of annoyance in his eyes. “You don’t believe me?”
“No,” I admitted in a firm voice.
“You will soon enough.”
He watched me. He didn’t need to say anything else—he could see the cracks forming. I hated that he could read me so well. The worst part? I knew he was right. And I hated him for it.
I swallowed, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. He didn’t need one.
“I’ve got a business trip coming up,” he mentioned. “I’ll be gone three days.”
“When do you get back?”
“Monday night.”
