But it hadn’t been for the best.Because here she was, back in his world, broken and vulnerable, asking for his help.And despite the anger still simmering in his heart, he couldn’t turn her away.He couldn’t let her face this alone, not when she’d come to him.
Because as much as he tried to deny it, Lexie wasn’t just someone he’d cared for.She was the only person who had ever made him feel like more than just a powerhouse.She had made him feel like a man.And no matter how angry he was at her for leaving, that was something he couldn’t forget.
Even now, Max’s body ached at the thought of Lexie just a few floors above him, sleeping in one of the guest bedrooms.He’d ordered one of his assistants to obtain a wardrobe for her—everything she could possibly need—but the uncertainty gnawed at him.What is she wearing now?Was she still in that absurd pink satin dress that barely covered her?Or was she…naked?The thought twisted something deep inside him, a dark, possessive anger he didn’t want to examine too closely.
His gaze dropped to the phone sitting on his desk, the screen dark against the stack of papers it rested on.The sight of it irritated him further.His desk was always pristine, a reflection of the control he maintained over every aspect of his life.His world was orderly, structured, and predictable.Even chaos was managed with precision under his rule.
Until Lexie had walked back into his carefully controlled existence.
Lexie’s revelation had shattered that control.The knowledge that someone had violated her in such a personal, intimate way—his Lexie—was enough to make his blood boil.But it was more than that.Those videos… they weren’t just an invasion of her privacy.At first, it felt like betrayal.Then the truth settled in—slow, sickening, undeniable.Evidence that another man had seen what Max had spent the last year trying to forget.
His hands curled into fists as a wave of simmering anger coursed through him.Max had spent the past year in a state of painful celibacy because no other woman could compare to Lexie.No one else could ignite that spark of desire, that need that burned so fiercely every time she was near.A year ago, he’d told himself that she was the only one, that she felt the same pull, the same connection.
But the phone on his desk told a different story.A damning story.
Twenty-four hours ago, he would have sworn that Lexie belonged to him in every way that mattered.That she hadn’t moved on, just as he hadn’t.But now?Now, the evidence sat right in front of him, mocking him.Proof that he had been wrong about her.Proof that another man—or maybe more—had touched her, seen her in ways Max had dreamed of, but never allowed himself to claim.
His jaw clenched as jealousy flared hot and unrelenting, feeding the fury simmering just beneath his calm exterior.The thought of her in someone else’s arms, giving herself to someone who wasn’t him, was a betrayal he couldn’t stomach.It churned in his gut, a toxic mix of anger and possessiveness.
And yet, even as he stared at the phone, his hand refused to move.The reluctance to open it, to see the truth with his own eyes, rooted him to his chair.He didn’t want to know.He didn’t want to see her in a vulnerable, intimate moment that didn’t belong to him.It would shatter something inside of him, something he wasn’t sure he could repair.
But he couldn’t ignore it either.
This was his world.His responsibility.And Lexie—whether she realized it or not—was his.No other man would ever touch her again.No one would ever violate her trust, her body, or her privacy again.He would see to that.
With a surge of determination, Max grabbed the phone and typed in the passcode.The screen unlocked, revealing a gallery of videos.Dozens of them.His gut churned as he scrolled through the thumbnails, the bile rising in his throat at the sight of her in her bedroom, her bathroom, in moments when she clearly assumed she was alone.
The rage inside him burned hotter, but it wasn’t directed at Lexie.Not anymore.It was directed at the bastard who had done this, who had dared to invade her life, her sanctuary.Enzo would pay for this in ways he couldn’t yet fathom.
But as Max stared at the screen, his jaw tightening and his breathing grew shallow, he knew one thing for certain: he would fix this.He would regain control.And Lexie?She would be his.Fully, irrevocably.No one else would ever touch her again.
And then Max felt something he hadn’t expected while watching these videos; relief!
She wasn’t with another man.Video after video showed Lexie in the bathroom, coming out of the shower, sleeping, dressing…!His body was rock hard as he watched each one, feeling the ache until…he knew exactly which video Lexie hated the most.
And it was his favorite.
He watched, his body nearly exploding as Lexie lay in her bed, one hand sliding underneath the sheets.Lexie slid her other hand underneath her dark tee-shirt and he could see her fingers moving, stroking and pinching her nipple while her other hand moved between her thighs, stroking herself.Slowly at first, her eyes closed, her breathing coming faster while her fingers moved faster.
It took less than two minutes before Lexie’s back arched and her fingers stopped.That’s when he heard it.“Max!”she sighed, then her whole body collapsed.And she rolled over, pulling a pillow closer as she fell asleep.
Chapter 16
Lexiestirred,herbodyheavy and aching in ways that didn’t make sense.Her thoughts were foggy, tangled in a half-dream state as she blinked herself awake.For a moment, she had no idea where she was.The unfamiliar lemon-yellow walls around her glowed softly in the morning light, and the faint scent of lavender lingered in the air.
Her brow furrowed as she shifted, feeling the softness of the mattress beneath her—much softer than anything she’d ever slept on before.She blinked again, her gaze sweeping across the elegant furnishings in the room: a delicate bedside table with a crystal lamp, floor-to-ceiling curtains framing the windows, and a plush armchair tucked into the corner.It was a far cry from her thrift-store-furnished cottage.
Where am I?she wondered, her heartrate beginning to speed up as disjointed flashes of memory started to surface.She sat up, the sheets sliding off onto the floor as she took a deep breath.And then, like a flood, the events of the previous night—and the day before—came rushing back.
Enzo.The party.The awful dress.The way he’d grabbed her, hurt her.The videos.And then… Max.
Her chest tightened as the memories sharpened, vivid and raw.She’d run from Enzo, desperate and terrified, and gone straight to Max.And now, somehow, she was inhishouse.
Her gaze darted around the room again, taking in the unfamiliar luxury.The sunshine filtering through the curtains suggested it was going to be a rare bright morning in Seattle, but the warmth of the light felt at odds with the turmoil still churning in her head.
Looking down, she noticed she was still in her cotton panties and a tee-shirt.Her face flushed as she pulled the covers up over herself, instinctively knowing that the tee-shirt was Max’s.The stupid pink dress was nowhere to be seen, and relief washed over her.She remembered stripping it off in a haze of exhaustion, too tired to care where it landed.She hadn’t been able to sleep in it—wouldn’thave been able to.She’d been so grateful when a servant had knocked softly on the door to offer her a soft, white tee-shirt.
She wanted to burn that dress.Shred it.She wanted to rub it in dirt, toss it into a fire, and scatter the ashes.Or better yet, feed it to pigs.But then her practical side kicked in.No, that would poison the pigs,she thought wryly.
