I try to leave her behind, but she follows me into my office and shuts my door.
“Even so, you cannot talk to people that way. You owe everyone an apology. I will smooth it over, but fuck, Max. Get your shit together.”
“Me? I’m not the one who went gallivanting out to lunch before this meeting.”
She rears around and pins me with a glare. “I am allowed to have a life outside of this place.”
My heart is hammering in my chest. She said this place, but I heard me. She is allowed to have a life without me.
In London. With Clint.
It’s all irrational, but it still has me spiraling.
“I needed you. You weren’t here.” I try to save face.
“You didn’t call. I would have answered. So tell me what this is really about.”
I let out a little growl. “I don’t like that you were with him.”
“Why?” She crosses her arms.
“I don’t know. I just don’t. He isn’t right for you.”
She snorts. “This again. Max, I love that you are trying to look out for me, but I can make decisions about my life. I don’t need you doing it for me. I know things have gotten muddled over the years, but you are only the CEO here in this building. You don’t get to be the CEO of my life too.”
“That’s not what I meant,” I try to tell her, but she shakes her head.
“This is wildly inappropriate. We can have this argument later, but right now, you owe those people an apology. I would suggest you go make your rounds while I order them all lunch from the Italian place everyone loves. Then come back here and figure out what crawled up your ass because you need to extract it before we talk again. You said I deserve better? So does this company. So be better.”
She leaves my office, slamming the door, and I wince at the sound.
We don’t fight. Not like this. Fuck, I need to get it together. I feel like my life is falling apart in front of my eyes, and I can’t even do anything about it.
Nothing is going the way I want. I need to show her she wants to be with me, and instead I’m acting like a fool.
My cell phone rings. I pick it up, answering before the second ring.
“What?” I snap without looking at the caller.
“What crawled up your ass and died?” Eli asks.
I growl at his words echoing Iris’s. I want to punch something.
“I don’t have time for bullshit, tell me what you need,” I hiss into the phone.
I hear his chair squeak across the line, and I instantly know I have his complete attention.
“Maximilian, what the hell is going on? You’re a grumpy bastard on a good day but never a raging dick, so tell me what happened, or I’ll call Iris and ask her.”
That makes my shoulders bunch with tension.
Iris. God, what would she say to him?
Sighing, I walk over to the couch and flop down onto it.
“Iris is the problem,” I confess.
“Tell me.”
