Mad Max - Sapphire Knight Page 0,32
few days ago, though it feels more like a week ago. Max had business, the sort he didn’t want me to accompany him on, and I had my own issues to sort out. I came back as directed and called work. I’ve been home, locked up in this apartment for three days, working as much as I can and attempting to not go crazy while Max has been radio silent. I don’t know why, but I expect him to come home covered in someone’s blood.
He’s not, of course. The taxing man shows up looking as if he’s spent his time away lounging at a spa retreat. Clad in a crisp three-piece suit, he has me swallowing roughly, attempting to school my reaction to the visceral pull he seems to possess over me. That’s another thing I’m not too keen on: the affect he has over me by merely being in the same room. “Hello, darling,” he greets. “Have a proper rest while I was away?”
His posh accent has me rolling my eyes and huffing out a breath at how sexy it sounds. “Hard to relax when there’s mob goons stationed outside the door.” Is that what he expected me to do? Come back here to have a long soak and nap? Surely not. I jumped on my laptop and practically guzzled down a pint of ice cream. If our future will be this erratic, then I’ll need lots more carbs around this place to make up for it.
He flashes a disarming grin, making it even more difficult to be irritated with him. I should hate him, be so insanely furious I stab him to death with a fork or something else remotely ridiculous. Damn mobster. “They were for your protection, in case you were kidnapped or something of the sort.” Oh he’s cheeky today. I wonder if he got laid? And why does that thought churn my stomach so fiercely? I have no right to feel such a way. This isn’t a real marriage, after all.
“Was my aim off the other day? Do I seriously look like I need protecting by a bunch of street thugs?”
He stops in front of me, snatching up my wrist in his strong grip. He yanks me upwards until I’m falling against his imposing body. He’s positively sinful, and that detail makes me hate him a bit more. He shouldn’t be this good looking. He deserves to be ugly with the madness I know lurks inside his mind.
He leans his face down in mine, until our noses touch. He rasps, his warm, sweet breath brushing my lips, “So judgy with your variety of insults towards our crew, Isa. Of course you need protecting. You belong to me.” He utters it with such finality, it nearly has me believing him.
“I belong to no one.”
He releases me, giving me a slight push. The momentum has my body falling back down onto the sofa. He scowls down at me. “That’s where you’re mistaken. This is the Mafia. You have to belong to someone in this life. Make no mistake about it, you’re mine. Every man inside Chicago’s city limits knows it, as well as the entire syndicate.”
He spins away, leaving me to head for the bedroom. I’m able to see a sliver into the master bathroom from my spot. I stare, waiting to catch a glimpse of him when he’s not paying any attention. A beat later, I’m rewarded with exactly that. He strolls across the white marble, stark naked. His powerful thighs leading up to his sculpted buttocks are a sight to behold. I’ve been with some decent-looking men, but never one that could compare to Max. It figures the most devastatingly handsome man of them all would end up being batshit nuts inside. They don’t call him Mad Max without good reason, I’ve discovered.
“Join me,” he calls loudly, his deep timbre cutting through the lingering melody he’s stuck on repeat.
“Fuck you,” I reply quietly to myself, then louder ask, “Who is this playing?”
“Lala, by James Levine. Have you not watched American Horror Story?” his voice drowns out as the oversized glass door closes and he steps under the showerhead that expands across the ceiling.
I’ve seen the show, and it’s exactly what that man doesn’t need to be watching. He’s ruthless enough, never mind adding in a show to give him more ideas. Although I am intrigued. I didn’t peg him for a series guy, or for TV in general.
Rather than do as he requests and follow