Beautifully Brutal (Southern Boy Mafia #1) (13 page)

When they reached a set of doors, manned by two big guys, she knew she should turn around, run the other way as fast as she could because being alone with Max was only going to prove to be disastrous. For both of them.

“I can’t leave my friend,” she told him abruptly, making one last-ditch effort to pull away from him.

“Find her friend,” Max ordered one of the men. “Don’t let her out of your sight.”

“Yes, sir,” the bigger of the two men said dutifully.

He didn’t release his hold on her wrist as the two men pushed open the doors and allowed them through. The chaotic noise coming from the club was muted when the doors closed behind them. She expected him to take her up the set of stairs on her right, the one that led to his office, but he didn’t. He kept a firm grip on her arm and led her down the hall, deeper into the bowels of the building until they reached another set of doors.

“Where are we going?” she asked, once again trying to pull away.

“My penthouse,” he snapped.

“But you don’t live here,” she retorted.

“Consider it my home away from home.”

“Why did I never know about this place?” she asked, trying to understand how they’d dated for a solid year, come to the club on more than one occasion, yet she’d never been invited to his
home away from home
.

“It was … recently acquired,” he informed her, his tone gruff.

Courtney followed in silence as they walked through a narrow tunnel that seemed to be endless, and she realized they were leaving the nightclub and heading into another building entirely. They ended up in front of another door, this one locked. Max entered a code into the panel on the wall, along with his fingerprint, and the lock disengaged.

Once through the door, things got interesting.

Gone were the concrete walls and floor, and in their place was an elegantly furnished area with a glass table topped with a giant flowering plant, and plush black carpeting laid out before a chrome-trimmed elevator. There was only one button on the wall, as well as inside the elevator.

Once they were sealed inside the steel box, Courtney tried not to fidget, refusing to look at Max although that was easier said than done since the walls of the elevator were all mirrored.

Max ushered her out when the doors opened, and they were greeted by another mammoth in a suit, this one clearly armed to the teeth. He was standing in a hallway, watching a monitor that appeared to show him a view into the elevator as well as the lobby area on the bottom floor.

The lone door in the hall was open, and Max urged her forward, his hand on the small of her back once again.

It was then that Courtney knew they weren’t just there for a simple conversation.

Chapter Fifteen

What he wouldn’t give for a view like this all the time.

It was all Max could do to keep from pulling Courtney into his arms and crushing his mouth to hers. He’d been stupid for dancing with her, feeling her body moving with his, her fingers caressing his neck, the warmth between her legs against his thigh, but he’d had no choice.

Either that or he would’ve strangled the fucker who’d put his hand on her as though he actually had a right to touch her. The instant Max had seen her talking to the other guy, he’d been blinded by rage, ready to pull out his gun and kill the bastard where he stood.

“Why didn’t we go to your office?” she asked now, glancing around the penthouse.

“This gives us more privacy,” he told her simply, making his way to the wet bar, trying to calm himself. He needed a drink, something to take the edge off, because the instant he’d learned that Courtney was in the club, he’d been close to losing it. It’d only gotten worse when he’d realized she hadn’t been alone.

“We don’t need privacy,” she insisted.

Max didn’t bother to argue with her as he proceeded pouring their drinks.

Courtney strolled through the open living area, moving to the wall of windows that overlooked the city. Beyond the glass, blanketed in inky darkness was the Bank of America Plaza building, outlined in green, along with the Renaissance Tower, with its well-known X of lights. Just behind those was the uniquely designed I.M. Pei’s Fountain Place, which Max actually found more intriguing during the day than at night.

The building he now occupied was actually the home of numerous companies that conducted their business in the bustling city. It hadn’t been easy—at least not until the owner had realized who he was up against—but Max had managed to convince the man to sell him the top three floors for his personal use. He’d converted two of them to office space—merely a front for his land business—and the top floor to his own private retreat.

Not that he was ever there. He’d never brought anyone back to the penthouse—certainly not Angelica—and only used it on the rare occasion he was conducting business late into the night. However, it’d been designed with Courtney in mind, proof that he’d never be over her, never be able to completely let her go.

The entire space was monochrome—the black, white, and metal décor expensive—with enough furniture to make it feel lived in but not so much that Max felt claustrophobic. He’d had a Jacuzzi tub installed in the bathroom because he knew how much she’d enjoyed using the one in his house. He’d even gone so far as to purchase several framed images of Marilyn Monroe, including one that was autographed, costing him nearly forty grand. He still remembered their conversation.

“What’s with the fascination with Marilyn Monroe?” he asked her.

Courtney glanced up at the framed photos above her couch.

She shrugged. “She’s … real. There’s something about her. You can see it in her eyes. It’s almost as though she’s haunted but happy. As though she’s come to terms with who she really is. I guess I admire that.”

When she’d told him that, he’d seen that same haunted look in her eyes, and he’d wondered whether he was the reason it’d been there.

“This is … nice,” Courtney said when Max handed her the drink. Her eyes drifted to the far wall, where the pictures were hung.

He watched as her mouth opened slightly, realization dawning. Yes, he’d done this for her, hoping that one day he’d have her back where she belonged. With him.

“I thought you’d like it,” he said, backing away from her before he did something stupid, like kiss her.

“I still don’t understand why you brought me here.”

Max sipped the whiskey, his eyes on Courtney’s face. Lowering the glass, he admired her beautiful, soft features. She was still just as lovely as the last time he’d seen her, perhaps more so. And fuck if he didn’t miss her.

“The question is why are
you
here, Courtney? What are you after now?”

Courtney stiffened, as he had expected. He wasn’t gullible enough to believe she’d come to him
for
him, and certainly not for girls’ night with her friend. She was after something, and he simply wanted to know what. If she’d merely been out for a night on the town, he imagined the last place she would’ve willingly gone was his club.

This game of hers was tiring, but he’d initially started out playing it two years ago, so he figured he could continue the ruse. Because, despite what Courtney might want to believe, this thing between them had started off as a means for her to find her way into his organization, but it had turned into something much, much more than that. Had he not been willing, she never would’ve made it into his world.

“I hear congratulations are in order,” Courtney said acrimoniously as she moved away from him, circling around behind one of the white leather sofas, her fingers trailing over the top of the cushions.

Max didn’t respond.

“I didn’t figure you for the type to fall for a blonde.”

“I could say the same about you,” he disputed.

She inhaled sharply but didn’t meet his gaze.

He wasn’t going to rise to her bait. If she wanted to confront him head on, he’d be more than happy to oblige her, but this tiptoeing around bullshit was quickly boring him.

When she turned back to the window, holding her glass close as she stared out at the scenic view, he was reminded of a time much like this one. Only then, the view she’d been peering out at had been his swimming pool, not quite as interesting as the one now.

However, his view—of her—had been equally stunning.

“Have a seat, Courtney,” Max encouraged, forcing himself to stop watching her as he moved to the black sectional that filled the space. Without waiting for her to join him, he lowered himself to the buttery soft leather, getting comfortable with one arm on the armrest, crossing his ankle over the opposite knee.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever actually sat in that particular room in his house. He looked around, taking it in. No, it was just another room that went unoccupied. Most of his time was spent in his office, the kitchen, or, when he was sleeping, in his bedroom. The ballroom was used for parties, the dining room for family gatherings. But never this room. Hell, he could still smell the new leather from the sofa.

She joined him a minute later, only she didn’t sit next to him. There was an entire cushion between them, but that didn’t surprise him. For a moment, he simply watched her, caught up in her and unable to look away. Never in his life had he had this sort of reaction to a woman. Where being in the same room with her was enough. Having her close, hearing her breathe. Max could’ve simply sat there in silence for hours just so he could observe her.

But that time wasn’t available to him anymore. He needed to understand more about her, such as her reasons for coming here.

He’d been pleasantly surprised when she showed up at his door, but after the way she’d slipped out on him the other morning, he’d been reluctant to let her in. Nevertheless, here they were, and the silence was beginning to irritate him.

Presuming she wasn’t going to out-and-out tell him what he wanted to know—why she was there—he figured casual conversation would be the easier route.

“Tell me something,” he prompted.

“What’s that?”

Pretending to think a little longer, he took a sip of his drink. “You went to work for your father, but you never said that’s what you wanted to do. When you were younger, what did you want to be when you grew up?” he asked, eyeing her carefully.

She visibly relaxed, easing back into the cushion as she stared down at the glass in her hand.

“The CIA,” she said softly, a small smile forming. “I always dreamed of being in the CIA. I wanted to go on missions, to infiltrate terrorist networks and draw out the bad guys.”

Max chuckled. “So you followed your dream?”

“Not necessarily,” she replied, glancing over at him. “My father has always treated me with kid gloves. Although none of my brothers would ever take the babysitting jobs forced on me, they seem to expect me to smile and nod when they’re offered.”

“Why do you think that is?” he inquired.

“At first, I thought it was because I was a woman. But I’ve proven myself time and time again, and I refuse to believe that my father is sexist. I’m reliable, focused, not to mention good with a gun,” she said with a smirk. “The only thing that makes sense is that I’m my father’s daughter. He doesn’t quite know how to let me go, let me be what I was meant to be.”

“But he assigned this mission to you,” he told her frankly, watching her closely.

Courtney’s eyes lifted to his, but she didn’t respond. She knew as well as he did that this was an undercover assignment, a way for her to dig into the Adorite family, to learn more about the Southern Boy Mafia. He didn’t know who their client was, who wanted dirt on him, but Max knew it could be a number of people. From the government to his enemies, or hell, even one of the five families could be looking into them, assessing them.

Not that he thought the latter would’ve reached out to a group of elite security advisors, but he never underestimated anyone.

“I’m not supposed to be here,” Courtney said, her voice soft, uncertain.

Max dropped his foot to the floor, leaned forward, and placed his empty glass on the table.

“Then why are you here?” he asked.

The silence lingered for longer than Max cared for, but Courtney’s response finally came, and it was exactly what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Because I can’t stay away.” She swallowed hard. “I can’t stay away from you, Max.”

Tears glistened in her eyes, and his heart melted a little more. They’d only known each other for two and a half months, but during that time, they’d grown closer, despite her consistent need to put distance between them. Ever since the night he’d fucked her, she’d been standoffish, coming up with excuses as to why she couldn’t see him and not giving in. It was beginning to wear on him, and he had to wonder what she was up to.

But then she’d shown up on his doorstep today, unannounced. And now she was sitting so close he could smell her sweetness, see the dark gray flecks in her nearly colorless eyes, hear the way her breaths were becoming uneven.

“Come here,” he ordered, his voice low, unwavering.

Courtney mirrored his actions, placing her glass on the table before scooting closer.

When she was within arm’s reach, he lifted his hands to her face, grazing his thumbs over her smooth cheeks while she eyed him speculatively.

“I don’t want you to stay away,” he told her.

Taking his time, Max leaned in, his mouth hovering so close to hers he could feel her breath against his lips. When he finally leaned far enough to kiss her, he settled his mouth over hers gently, waiting for her to give in to him.

And just like that, their worlds collided, much as they had that night in the hallway when he’d been so taken by this woman that he hadn’t cared where they were. He’d needed her, wanted to be inside her, to bury himself so fucking deep she wouldn’t be able to run from him.

“Max.” The husky way she said his name had his cock throbbing.

Pulling her onto his lap, Max settled her so that she was straddling him. Their mouths never separated, their tongues seeking, devouring. Unable to resist, he slid his palms up her thighs, pushing her short skirt higher, until he gripped her hips beneath. He jerked her forward, pressing his aching cock against her, grinding until the pleasure was so intense he thought he would come in his jeans like a fucking schoolboy.

“Oh, God, Max. Please,” she pleaded.

“Please what?” he asked as her mouth trailed over his jaw, his neck.

Working his thumb over the thin fabric of her panties, Max found her clit. He pressed, circled his thumb until she was begging him for more. He wanted to make her come, to make her cry out his name. And then, he wanted to bury himself inside her and fuck her until neither of them knew which way was up.

For long minutes, Max continued to tease her, sliding his thumb beneath her panties, feeling her slick heat against his skin while he kissed her, their tongues mating.

It was too much. He’d held out for too long.

Growling, he pulled back, peering up at her. Neither of them said anything, but words weren’t needed. She knew what he wanted, the same as he knew what she needed.

Without thinking about the consequences of their actions, Max freed his cock from his slacks, forced her panties to the side, and eased his cock inside her. And right there, in the middle of his living room, on the never-sat-on-before sofa, Max lost himself in her, fucking her sweetly, gently. She rode his cock until they were both breathless, moaning. And when she came, her mouth crushed to his, her moans muffled by his lips, he let himself go.

Max forced himself from the memory, realizing that Courtney was standing there staring at him. Rather than face the curiosity in her gaze, he turned away from her, maneuvered back around to the end of the sofa, and sat down.

“Sit down, Courtney,” he ordered her. “It’s time we have a talk.”