Chapter Forty-Eight
Rhys
A text from Angelo pops up on my phone the second I land at LAX.
–Angelo: Sorcha just invited Max to her house. I’m driving her, but slow. You need to get there RIGHT NOW.
Goddamn it!I dash to hop into a waiting car and give the chauffeur Grandmother’s address. “If you can get there under fifty minutes, I’ll give you a five-hundred-dollar tip.” I pull the bills out of my money clip.
His eyes widen, then narrow with determination. “Hold on to that hat you’re not wearing.”
The car shoots onto the 405 like a bullet. It’s an effort to sit back and let the man drive. Grandmother doesn’t approve of Max, and she’ll do whatever she can to push her away from me.
Come on,Freckles.Don’t let her do anything to you.
Max can probably handle Sorcha Kingswood. But she shouldn’t have to. It’s my fault for not making sure she was protected before leaving.
I call Grandmother, to interrupt whatever she’s planning. As the phone rings, I glare at the screen. “Come on. Answer it!”
Nope. Nothing.
–Me: Answer the phone.
No response. Is she purposely ignoring me?
–Me: I’m going to die a bachelor!
–Czarina: Don’t be melodramatic and be quiet. I’m watching a good show.
–Me: What?
My intestine knots.
–Czarina: I’m trying to measure who’s better.
–Me: Stop talking in riddles.
She quits answering. I try calling, but it goes straight to voicemail.
Anxiety winds tight, and my lungs burn from the lack of air. The chauffeur reaches the house in forty-five minutes. I hand him the cash and jump out. Frederich is watering Grandmother’s prized orchids.
“Where’s Max?” I demand.
He gives me his typical placid expression. “In the garden, enjoying the orchids.”
Enjoying the orchids,my ass! More like getting screwed and manipulated.
I dash to the back, but instead of Grandmother, it’s Selena who’s speaking with Max. The latter’s hand is trembling as she clenches some photos. Her face is chalk white, and she sways slightly as she studies them.
Bile rises in my throat. Don’t need to see them to know they aren’t anything good. Selena has tried to use our history to make Max feel excluded. Are they old photos of us? Max isn’t the type to hold them against me—she knows I’ve dated before—but her reaction says there’s something far more insidious.
Damn it, I’ve been only worried about my parents. Should’ve had my guard up against Selena, too!
“No!Wait!” I yell as I run faster toward her. “Freckles, just give me a minute to explain. Don’t jump to conclusions! Whatever those are, they’re fake!”
Max looks at me in shock. Hurt flickers in her eyes, until they turn cold and unreadable. “They’re real.”
Her statement punches me in the solar plexus. I’ve never felt so judged and condemned as now.How do I convince her that whatever she’s thinking isn’t true?“Freckles, just…please. Listen to me.”
