Page 32

Hailey

My face hasn't stopped smiling since last night.

Everything was perfect; there was something so primal about how he took me and I can't stop replaying it in my head. I feel a glow in my chest thinking about my future with Max. Taking walks with the dog. Him teaching me to cook. Spending more time with his sisters. Maybe a vacation once Nick leaves the hospital and Max’s work calms down.

Shoot.

Am I falling too fast?

We've already said it: I love you.

Worry starts gnawing at me. What if he loses interest? He gave no reason to worry this morning—he was so sweet and brought me breakfast in bed. But enough awful shit has happened that I'm conditioned to fear good things.

I climb out of my bath and dry off. Max said he'd be gone until evening, and I know the day will drag.

I wish we could've stayed in bed. Although, my body probably needs rest. I pad to the bedroom and dress casually—leggings and a sweatshirt.

It's unseasonably cold, a welcome break from the heat.

I tie my hair in a loose bun without drying it and head to the kitchen.

Since Max didn't clean up and his staff isn't coming today, I decide to help. I load the dishwasher, clean what doesn't fit, and guess where pots and pans go. He won't mind if I'm wrong. He's easy-going that way.

Almost too easy-going, honestly. Not lazy, but he doesn't notice little things that bother me. I admit life would be easier if I were less particular, so we balance each other. Though his sock drawer is an abomination. I noticed this morning that everything was loose and unpaired. What’s even more bizarre is that he doesn’t even do his own laundry so he specifically instructs someone not to fold his socks.

When I complained, he said it's more efficient. He only wears one style and brand, so why waste time pairing them? The fact that actually sounded logical to me is proof that I’m in love with this man.

I hum while wiping counters, moving appliances to clean every corner. As I fiddle with the egg cooker, the hair on my neck rises. I set it down, telling myself I'm paranoid.

Then I hear something in the garage.

My palms sweat as I focus on the noise—someone rummaging. I try to relax, thinking it's probably Max getting something for work. Maybe something I shouldn't know about, like a weapon.

But what if it's not him?

I sneak to the hallway door, listening. Someone stomps around without grace. It can’t be Max; he moves around the house so silently. It scared the hell out of me when I first moved in, when he would just appear out of thin air.

I run back to the kitchen, planning to grab my phone and flee. The door opens, footsteps nearing as I round the island.

I reach for knives, déjà vu from Kaiser surprising me in Savannah's kitchen. Wondering if these are more people my father sent to break into Max’s home and drag me back to him.

Hand sweating as I grip the knife, I tiptoe near the fridge to surprise whoever it is.

I scream as a large man appears. He reacts quickly, grabbing my wrist.

Rosie charges in barking, woken from her couch nap by the commotion.

"Jesus, woman."

It's Johnny. Max's dad.

"I'm sorry, I... I..."

His eyes narrow with concern, grip tightening as I stammer, Rosie still barking. He gently takes the knife and sets it down.

"Easy. I should've known better than walking in. Max said you're still jumpy after the kidnapping attempt. "

I choke back a sob, feeling idiotic. Why didn't I consider that it could be one of his family members? They all live nearby and probably visit often.

"Sorry, kid. Just working on my car and needed a tool. I was looking around Max’s garage to see if he had one. Then I had to take a piss."

I clutch my heaving chest, fighting tears. I just want him gone so I can fall apart privately. "I'm sorry for overreacting. I'm fine now."

"You don't look fine. Sit down."

Rosie finally quiets and leaves. Her initial calm should've told me not to worry—she knows Johnny's scent.

Knees wobbling, I climb onto a barstool, forcing my body from fight-or-flight.

Johnny lingers, talking on and on. I catch half his words, trying to breathe.

He praises my bartending, says he's glad I escaped the cult.

I smile and nod appropriately, but Kaiser's sinister smile haunts me. Even dead, he torments me.

"Want me to call Max?" Johnny asks.

I want to say yes, but it seems silly interrupting him for this overreaction. I just need time alone to settle. "No, I'm feeling better."

"Good." He adjusts his belt, looking towards the garage. "Sorry again, Hailey. I’ve been working on restoring this car for nearly a decade. Max's future father-in-law's a car guy, so I want it done before they visit from Sicily."

My ears ring as Johnny continues babbling .

Unable to bear more, I interrupt. "Max's future father-in-law?" The words emerge shakily. Did I hear right? Is my brain scrambled about what father-in-law even means? He's getting married?

Johnny's dark eyes widen. "Oh, thought he'd told you. He's betrothed to a Sicilian woman." He rambles about the proposal's business benefits. I feel like I'm falling even though I’m still seated on this barstool.

Hot tears well up. Kaiser's memory seems pleasant compared to this news. "Sorry," I cut him off. "Can you please go? I need to lie down."

"Of course. No problem, sweetheart. Sorry again for scaring you. I won’t barge in again anymore."

I feel his studying gaze as he leaves through the garage. When the door closes, I sprint upstairs, lock myself in the guestroom I stayed in initially, and pace, nearly hyperventilating and pulling my hair.

I can't believe he'd do this to me and his fiancée. That fucking psycho.

I knew it was too good to be true: falling for a rich man who could protect me from the militant cult I grew up in? No. Those things don't happen to me. I shriek until exhausted, not caring if the whole neighborhood hears.

I collapse sobbing by the bed.

I've never felt more alone in my entire life. I have no one to look out for me. My parents don't want what's best for me. I don’t have any siblings, and the only friends I had are stuck in that cult. Savannah seems to like me but she has too much going on with Nick and I’m sure she’ll get sick of me eventually.

What Max did is unforgivable. To find someone as desperate as me and act like he’s head over heels just to discard me so his fucking family can get allied with another crime family?

I don't know how to handle this. Part of me wants to flee—pack my bag and catch a bus. Another part wants to fight. He needs to learn that being a spoiled crime lord's kid doesn't mean he gets to walk over everyone.

I grab my clothes and pack, knowing that whether I confront him or not, I'm gone.