“Don’t.”
Her mouth snaps shut. She backs up until she runs into the bookcase.
Perfect. I step in front of her, placing my hands on the shelves on either side of her, not so close that we’re touching, but close enough that she can’t run or find any other excuse or distraction. “The first time I saw you, back when we were teenagers, I scared you, but you scared me more. You terrified me enough that I ran and hid from you for sixteen years. Because I knew in that brief moment that you were a woman that I could love. Maybe I even knew that I loved you, but my grief was too fresh, too raw to let my brain acknowledge it.”
She shakes her head. “You couldn’t have—”
“My dad knew the moment he saw my mother that they were forever. My grandfather knew when he met my grandmother, and they were both about our age back then. When I tell you I knew then, I mean it.”
“You’re like him.”
Who?
“You’re just like him. You don’t want to play games. You don’t just want to marry me. You want to spend more than forever with me.”
Who. Else. Wants. To. Marry. You? My fingers clench so tight I’m afraid of breaking the shelves.
Calm.
You need to be calm.
And rational.
Find out his name.
Kill him.
Then get back to dating Fiona.
Take a deep breath.
In…and out.
Maximus Rage…the homicidal part of me, still wants control.
In…and out.
You can handle this. Fiona is clearly into you and not this guy. “Who wants to marry you?” There, that sounded like a reasonable facsimile of calm and rational.
“No, I was talking about Hope’s boyfriend.”
“WHAT?”
You’re Not Helping
Fiona
No.
No.
No. I can’t believe I just said that. Hope trusted me, and I totally ratted her out in a moment of sheer terror.
After the word roared out of Max’s mouth, he went totally silent.
Eerily silent.
It’s like he’s a time bomb ready to go off.
