40

Maximilian

“Holy shit.”
I flop on the bed with a breathless laugh, looking over at Cadence with awe.
Cadence, who licks her lips like the cat who ate all the cream. “What the hell was that?” I demand.
Cadence only shrugs and lies on her side, tugging her shirt down so her tits are once again hidden from view.
Breasts. They are breasts, not tits. They will always be breasts. I will always see them in my mind—the perfect size between a full, ripened peach and a small melon. Ripe and sweet with nipples like cherries…
I make it sound like Cadence is a fruit platter rather than a woman who just blew my mind by blowing me.
I touch her cheek. “Was that a dream?”
“Did it feel like a dream?”
“No! It felt… amazing.”
“Good.” And then Cadence makes like she’s about to roll over.
“Uh-uh.” My hand slips to her shoulder. “You’re not going away that quick.”

She opens her mouth to respond, and I swear, fear clutches my gut because if she says it didn’t mean anything…
It meant something. It will always mean something with her.
I made her come on the beach—the type of orgasm that had her calling out my name, fingers tugging on my hair for me to take more of her—that meant something.
It scares me how much it meant.

Instead of cracking my heart like a walnut, Cadence only smiles and nestles into the pillow. “What did your father say that upset you?”
That is not where I saw this moment going. “It’s not important.”
“I saw your face. You were upset. That’s important.”
“Not to him.”
Cadence smiles ruefully and her expression tells me she knows exactly what that’s like. “It’s not always the case, is it? But it’s important to me.”
I toy with the ends of her hair, looking dark in the dim light. “He’s always tried to control me. What I do, what I can do. He uses the business to keep me from doing things that would make me happy. And when I have something that makes me happy, he takes it away.”
“Like Caroline.”
I nod. “And like me playing soccer. I like it, it keeps me—it’s good for my head, you know?”
“I do yoga,” she says.
“It’s important to have something that’s good for your head. If I wasn’t playing, I think I might have drunk myself into a stupor after Caroline, and he—my father, doesn’t give a shit. He just sees me happy and good at something and he does his damnedest to take it away.”
“Do you really think that’s what he’s doing?”
“I don’t know. Feels like it.”
“If that’s the case, then he’s a spiteful ass who doesn’t deserve you for a son. I think he’s jealous of you. Of your successes. Of your happiness. Of you, because you’re a much nicer person than he is.”
“You know my father.”
“I know of him. I told you that. Does… does he know I’m here with you?” Cadence pauses, waiting for me to respond. “That’s why he’s upset, isn’t it? He knows I’m here with you.”
There’s no point denying it. “You’re some kind of psychic, aren’t you?”
“Did he say why he’s upset?” she asks carefully.
“I didn’t read all of his texts. I think it’s just because he thinks you’re important to me… you are important to me.”
Cadence drops her gaze. “You just met me.”
“Too soon?”
“It should be,” she whispers. “I should be running scared, but instead, I’m going to be honest with you.”
My heart skips a beat. “Please tell me you’re not married,” I say, trying to joke.
“Maximilian, I’m the other buyer interested in Tingel Island.”
I might need the light on for this. “What?” I squint at Cadence in the dim moonlight. “My Tingel Island? The one Moon has been trying to firm up for the last three months?”
“Maybe my Tingel Island,” she admits.
I can only stare at her. “Well, fuck. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it? To keep me distracted or find out what we’re offering.” I want to laugh. I want to shout at being used, at being nothing more than a means to an end…

“Do you really think that?” she asks sadly.
I study her face. There’s no mask, no smooth finish hiding her emotions. Cadence looks at me, makeup wiped clean so I notice the almost invisible eyelashes, the splash of freckles, the shadows under her amber eyes.
She’s beautiful like this. “I don’t want to,” I tell her honestly.
“I told myself that’s why I agreed to come with you, but it’s not true.”

“Why are you here, then?” I demand. Maybe I should sit with it, pace around the room. Because having this conversation lying beside her in bed, knowing what we just did, knowing what I can’t wait to do again, is impossible.
Cadence lied to me, and I still want to kiss her senseless.
“I’m here because my friend needed a favour, and I wanted to help.” Cadence drops her gaze again. “Which was a complete shock to me, that I was capable of being a friend.”
I want to believe her. I want to believe her so badly, but the fact she’s here, in enemy territory…
She wants to buy the same property as my father. That doesn’t make her an enemy of me. I am but a minion of my father’s, doing what he wants, with no choice in the matter.
I could give her numbers, and snippets of conversation, but things are progressing. The deal is in motion. There’s not much I can say that will change the outcome for her.
But there might be things she could tell me that could change the outcome for Moon.
No. No.
I’m not that person. I’m not my father.
“How long have you been after the island?” I ask, before I can stop myself. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t want to talk business with you. No business.”
“I’m sorry I had to tell you, but I didn’t want you to hear it from your father.”
“Well, you just blew my brains, so you know I have to forgive you.”
Cadence gives a laughing gasp and smiles. “You really don’t,” she says.
“If I want you to do it again, I do. And trust me—I really want you to do that again.”
I wasn’t sure what I expected her reaction to be, but it’s not Cadence sliding over and into my arms, fitting as neatly as a key into a lock.
I roll onto my back, enjoying the feel of just holding her. The scent of her hair, the soft touch of her hand resting on my chest.
“I hope this won’t make your father more upset with you,” she says softly.
“Like I give a damn.”
Cadence smiles. “Such a rebel.”
“Don’t you like bad boys?”
She has a faraway look in her eyes that makes me wonder about her history with bad boys. “I like nice men,” she says softly.
“I’m nice men,” I tell her.
Cool fingers stroke my cheek. “You’re a very nice man, Maximilian Stonee.”