Blind Devotion Page 14

  “What are you doing here?” Alina asked, taking me in from head to toe. “If my father sees you here, there’s no telling what he’ll do.”

  Ignoring her attempt to warn me, I brought the topic back to what I’d just heard. “Where is your husband,” I asked Tanya, taking a step closer to her than was necessary. She looked surprised, glancing at her attorney before looking back to me.

  “W-what?” she stuttered, nervously fidgeting with the strap of her designer purse. She knew where he was and was protecting him for some reason. My silence prompted her to speak again. “I . . . I do . . . don’t know,” she lied.

  “Yes, you do. And my suggestion is you tell the police right now so they can arrest him for assaulting your goddamn lawyer.” The strength in my voice frightened the woman. I hadn’t meant to do so, but my concern lay only with Alina’s well-being, even if she didn’t want to have anything to do with me.

  “Max,” Alina warned, turning to glare at me. “Stop it.”

  “She needs to turn him in, if not, I’m sure he’ll come after you again.” My heart rammed against my chest, adrenaline coursing through me with the fear if something wasn’t done soon, Alina could meet with a tragic fate.

  Reminding her she was still in danger, Alina turned to face her client again. “Tanya, if you know where he is, you have to tell the police. They can protect you from him.”

  “I’m scared,” she confessed, burying her head in her hands, her shoulders trembling. Alina pulled her into a hug, doing her best to offer both sympathy and support.

  “I know you are, but if you don’t do anything now, he’ll never stop.” After several moments, Tanya Glinn finally agreed to go to the police but only if Alina accompanied her, which meant they were going to have a third wheel, no matter how much protesting happened.

  Alina

  SITTING NEXT TO Max in the back of the cab was causing me a great deal of anxiety. Every time the vehicle turned a corner, our thighs would brush together, his mere presence overwhelming. Tanya sat in the front seat, so it wasn’t as if I could use her as a barrier between the two of us.

  Tanya had shown up unexpectedly at my office, sobbing because she was scared out of her mind. Her estranged husband had turned up at her place of work and threatened her. Yet when I suggested she go to the police, she acted as if that wasn’t even an option. Thankfully, we were en route to the nearest police station, Max having something to do with pushing her to make the decision.

  My eyes remained focused straight ahead while I struggled not to turn my head to stare at him. He was dressed to the hilt, looking sexier than ever, but his face revealed the difficult time he must’ve had after he left my place the prior evening. Was it guilt? Shame? Remorse? Or just plain disappointment he couldn’t forge a deeper relationship with me, a foolish woman who’d been so enthralled with him I barely got to know the man before I almost went to bed with him.

  There weren’t any warning bells, though.

  To know I was sitting next to a man who had essentially had some sort of physical altercation with his ex was unnerving. At least I thought it would be, that I would feel as if I was in some sort of danger with him being near, but it wasn’t how I felt at all.

  Instinctually, I knew Maxton Colter would never physically harm me.

  My mind was all over the place, so much so I hadn’t realized we’d reached our destination until Max tapped me on the shoulder from outside the cab, having come around to my side to open my door.

  An hour later and we were all standing outside the station, my worry for Tanya easing when she told me she’d made arrangements to take her two children and stay with her sister who lived in Detroit. Far away from New York, and from her crazy ex.

  I hailed a cab once I’d seen her off, hoping Max would simply walk away and leave me to my wayward thoughts. Part of me wanted him to explain those papers my father had shoved at me, and part of me wanted him to leave in silence, to allow me time to dissect not only my feelings toward him, but to try and conjure up any latent warning feelings I’d had toward him since the day I met him. I realized given the new information, there was a possibility I could be falsely latching on to former gut feelings, making them out to be something they weren’t, but I needed the time necessary to work through all of that.

  Once I’d opened the door to the cab and slid onto the back seat, Max entered the vehicle as well.

  “What are you doing?’ I asked, secretly satisfied part of what I wanted to happen was indeed taking place. While I needed some time to myself, I wasn’t ready to part with him.

  “We need to talk, and I’m not going to let you leave until I explain myself, and what happened.” Slamming the door, he rapped on the partition, directing the cab to move forward. We sat in silence for several moments before either of us spoke.

  “Were you abusive toward your ex-wife, in any way?” I kept my eyes pinned to the outside world, fearful Max would see my hurt if he confirmed what I suspected may be true, based on those papers.

  “Of course not.” His response was curt.

  My next question was poised on my lips, but for some reason, my lungs wouldn’t release the air necessary to give them sound. Not yet. So I kept quiet and watched the world pass us by while we made our way back toward the office. I would’ve thought he’d ramble his explanation for the domestic violence arrest, but instead, he took his cue from me and remained silent. At least until we’d exited the cab and stood together on the sidewalk.

  Endless moments passed between us as people scurried past, the sights and sounds of everyday life distracting me from the awkwardness that existed between Max and me.

  As I was about to take my leave, brushing past him to enter the building, he grabbed my wrist. Just enough to stop me and make me pay attention.

  “Can we please go somewhere private to speak?”

  I wanted to shout at him to release me, but I was more curious about what he would tell me, and whether or not I’d be able to tell if he was lying or not. In the end, my curiosity won out over self-preservation.

  Turning to face him was a mistake, even though I knew at some point I’d have to look at him. There was an undercurrent of worry and pain behind his eyes, so much so I instantly softened toward him.

  “We can’t go to my office, and now that you don’t work here anymore, we can’t go to yours either.”

  “Then come with me back to my place,” he suggested, stepping closer as if the decreased space between us would convince me.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” It dawned on me I’d never been to his place, but then again, why would I have? I’d just recently broken things off with Chris, giving validation to my feelings for Max. The opportunity to visit him at his home just hadn’t happened thus far.

  “It’s the only place we have. We can’t go to your house because your father, or Chris,” he said, a look of anger crossing his face as he uttered my ex-fiancé’s name, “could show up.”

  Max was right. His place was the only option available. I only hoped I didn’t end up regretting it.

  Max

  WATCHING ALINA STROLL through the place I called home, if only for now since I was renting the spacious apartment, was surreal. I’d imagined her there many times since I’d met her.

  I gave her a quick tour, allowing us some time to relax before we got into the heavy conversation both of us knew was inevitable, the sole reason we were even there.

  As she entered the luxurious kitchen, commenting on how lovely the marble countertops were, I couldn’t help but picture her sitting at the island, sharing breakfast with me after she’d spent the night, dressed in nothing more than one of my shirts, completely naked underneath. If she knew the thoughts that ran through my head, I was sure she’d bolt for the front door.

  Passing through to the living room, I pictured her lounging on my sofa, becoming comfortable enough over time to consider my place her second home. Every room on the tour had me imagining what it would be like to have h
er in my life permanently, the thoughts bombarding me and making me yearn for them to become a reality.

  Her showering with me.

  Her sharing my bed.

  Her reading in front of the fireplace in the den just off the living room.

  And of course, us christening every single room simply because we couldn’t keep our hands off each other.

  Maybe I was delusional, but maybe, just maybe, after I explained everything, Alina would see the truth and choose to be with me.

  After we reentered the living room, Alina took a seat on the leather sofa, the same one I’d passed out on the previous evening. Her hands rested in her lap, making a small indent in the dark blue fabric of her skirt.

  Releasing a puff of air, she spoke before I could. “So, now is the time for you to tell me the truth . . .” She made eye contact with me. “ . . . about your arrest.” She looked apprehensive but steeled her nerves enough to appear strong. I knew this was hard for her, but it was even harder for me. I didn’t want to relive that night, all the feelings I’d gone through, all the rage I felt toward Charlotte, but I knew it was necessary in order to move forward with the incredible woman sitting in front of me.

  Taking a seat at the far end of the same couch, allowing her the space I knew she needed, I began recounting the details of that night, and everything that had led up to it.

  I didn’t want her to see me as weak, as a man so blind to love, or what he thought was love at the time, that I overlooked obvious signs of an unfaithful partner, causing me shame in the process. Again, what I felt while going through the ordeal initially was miles apart of how I viewed them now. I was detached and wiser, able to reflect on the incident with little more than anger. I was no longer hurt by what Charlotte had done, simply because I no longer cared for her. Whatever residual feelings I had left had disappeared completely when she had me arrested.

  “I’d come home early from a business trip to find my wife in bed with a guy who was barely legal. The situation seemed rather cliché, but it didn’t make it hurt any less at the time. While we’d been growing apart, especially during the last two years of our marriage, I remained faithful, the vows meaning something to me.” I took a short break before continuing, intently watching Alina for her reaction, which there was none, other than her full attention to my story.

  “I moved out of my house right away, an action which left Charlotte surprised. She cited my long absences as justification for indulging in her loneliness and couldn’t understand why I wouldn’t forgive her. Looking back, she was self-centered, only worried about herself and anything that would benefit her, that she couldn’t see why I was so upset . . . and hurt. She even tried to turn things around, saying she didn’t believe I hadn’t stepped outside the marriage either. But I hadn’t. In the end, she was just as delusional about her actions as I was she’d remain faithful. I should’ve seen the signs beforehand, her taking off for long weekends with her friends, incoming texts late at night, etc. You name the stereotypical happenings for someone who was cheating, and I can guarantee Charlotte had done them.”

  As I continued speaking, I could see Alina’s posture relax, her expression changing from skeptical to trusting, which only encouraged me to skip forward and explain what had happened the night I was arrested.

  “Charlotte had called me and said she wanted to meet to discuss our future. We’d been living separately for months at that point, and she threatened to prolong signing the papers unless I gave her a face-to-face. I agreed, knowing it would be one of the last times I’d have to see her because I’d already signed a contract with your father’s firm, a minor detail she didn’t know. Anyway, I stopped by the house we had shared to indulge her one last time. When she answered the door, she immediately burst into tears and threw herself into my arms, so forcefully she almost knocked me over. When we parted, I saw she had a black eye and the corner of her lip was split.”

  Alina’s brow furrowed before she finally spoke. “You didn’t hit her.”

  “No, I never raised my hand to her. Ever. It was the handiwork of the guy she’d been messing with. Seeing her that way should’ve invoked some sort of protectiveness toward her, but there was nothing left, no feelings other than contempt that lived inside me where she was concerned.”

  “So how did she come to blame you for the attack?” Alina switched positions on the couch, tucking her left leg underneath her.

  “She begged me to take her back, apologizing over and over and telling me the only reason she did it was because she was lonely. They never meant anything to her.”

  “They?”

  “Yeah, apparently there was more than one.” Raking my fingers through my hair, I was nearing the end of my story. “When I refused to come home, finally telling her I was moving to New York the following week, she threatened to tell the police I’d been the one to strike her. It was her sick way of trying to get me to stay, which was beyond twisted.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “Yeah, Charlotte’s a piece of work. When I continued to refuse, she made good on her threat and called the police as soon as I left. They picked me up an hour later and took me to the station.”

  “How did they finally realize it wasn’t you?” Alina scooted closer, her eyes following my every move. It was then I knew she believed me. She saw the truth behind my words.

  “I was already in the process of selling my firm when this all happened, and my lawyer convinced her unless she told the truth, she wouldn’t see a dime of the money. He would make sure to drag out the divorce proceedings as long as possible. Much like she’d been doing to me. And since I knew how materialistic Charlotte was, she caved and retracted her story, telling the police I had not attacked her and gave them the name of the real guy who did. The charges were dropped, and I thought wiped clean, but apparently, your father got his hands on the information.”

  A look of confusion spread over Alina’s gorgeous face, but I had no idea what the cause of it was, until she parted her lips and rushed the words from her mouth. “Oh no, Max. My father,” she exclaimed. “He fired you because of what he thought you did.”

  “Yes, but you’re stating the obvious.”

  “I know. But once my father makes a decision, he never goes back on it, even if he knows he was wrong. Which he’d never admit.” She stood and started to pace.

  Approaching, I stopped and turned her. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll find another job. It’s not a big deal.”

  She stepped back, my arms falling to my side. “It is a big deal. He had no right to fire you.”

  “Well, that’s not necessarily true. I was arrested for domestic abuse, even though the charges were false. And in my contract, there is a morals clause, so he had every right to do what he did. The only issue now is since he’s stubborn, like you say, he won’t change his decision.”

  She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, and I couldn’t help myself. Reaching forward, I snagged her lip free before pulling her close, gazing into her eyes before crashing my mouth over hers.

  Was it the right time to kiss her? Probably not.

  Did I throw caution to the wind and follow my instincts? Without a second thought.

  There was no resistance on her end. She wrapped her arms around my neck and returned my desire, her kiss entrancing me and making me forget about everything except the two of us.

  Regretfully, I was the one who broke the connection and pulled back. “I want you so much I can’t think straight, but we need to slow down. I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you. I don’t want to rush you, and I need you to think about everything I’ve told you and come to the conclusion on your own whether or not you want to be with me.”

  I rambled on without thought, and simply put, I couldn’t believe all I’d said, but it was the right course of action to take. I’d laid a lot at Alina’s feet, and I needed for there to be no doubt of her trust in me, no hesitancy on her part as to what type of man I truly was before we decided to
move forward. I didn’t want her second-guessing herself, allowing her father to try and change her mind about me. There could be no doubt on her end.

  Alina

  “I HOPE YOU like Italian,” Max called, as he came back into the kitchen, toting three full bags of food. I was relaxing on the couch with a glass of red wine, watching him as he placed the delivery on the island, his gaze briefly meeting mine before he reached for some plates and silverware.

  It’d been a week since he’d told me about what really happened with his arrest. The raw emotion behind his words left no doubt on my end as to what type of man he was, the man I always guessed him to be.

  I tried to convince my father to hire him back, but he refused to budge, just as I knew would be his reaction. He returned Max’s buy-in payment, however, without any issues. So at least Max could find another job and not have to worry about that piece of it.

  I’d been coming to his place every night after work, staying clear of mine, simply because I had no idea if my father would just pop in. And explaining my decision to forge ahead with Max was the last thing I wanted to do. Any conversation about Max with my father would only lead to an argument. While I was prepared to defend my decision, I wanted more time with Max before doing so.

  “I’m starving, so no matter what you ordered, I’m not going to have any issues.” As I was about to stand, Max came into the living room, carrying two dishes full of food, the smell so intoxicating my stomach rumbled, and rather loudly.

  “You are hungry, aren’t you?” he teased, placing the plate on the coffee table. “Hold on, I’ll grab some trays.”

  “Do you mean TV trays?”

  “Yes. Why?” He grabbed two wooden trays from a hallway closet, striding toward me and plopping them open once he’d reached my side, placing my dinner on top and pushing it directly in front of me.

  “I just didn’t take you for a TV tray type of guy,” I joked.

  “They come in handy when you eat alone.” He tried to joke, but I detected a trace of loneliness in his voice, a vulnerability behind his eyes as he placed his own dinner on the tray.