8

Cadence
Ikeep my expression steady even though my insides are jumpy enough to make anyone brand me as guilty.
I did not expect him to say that.
I didn’t expect anything from Max Stonee.
I know of his reputation—youngest son of famed developer Dalton Stonee and doing his best to stay afloat in the company and impress daddy. He’s like an eager puppy—bouncing and barking and peeing on the floor when he gets excited.
But when he talks to the police about me, he turns into a guard dog.
“Sorry, about that, dear,” Max says with a hint of amusement in his voice. “Not really being a gentleman, am I, if I go around telling these nice men our business?”
I take a sip of tea and hold Max’s gaze over the rim. “Gentlemen are boring.”
His eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline. A nice hairline. Thick hair. I appreciate men with a full head of hair. And with visible reluctance, he turns away from me to look up at the police still looming over the table. “Anything else we can help you with, boys?”
“You’re telling us you ate with Mr. Tate and then joined Mr. Stonee in his room?” The second officer, ruddy-faced and broad-shouldered, doesn’t bother to hide his sneer.
“Mr. Tate is a long-time friend of mine,” I say carefully.
“Friend. Right.”
“What are you implying?” Max snaps. “That it would be impossible for a woman with Ms. Quiler’s business sense and savvy—more than most men I know—to be considered a peer of Novi Tate, even though he acted as a mentor to her for her entire career? You think that wouldn’t happen because she’s a woman? Or because she’s a beautiful one?”
They don’t know what to do with him, and frankly, neither do I. But hearing him defend me like this is like someone handing me a warm blanket after a cold walk home. “Maximilian,” I say softly.
He looks over at me and by the twinkle in his eye… He’s enjoying this. “Our eyes met across the restaurant when she was with Tate,” Max waxes nostalgically. “I was ready to bust up their dinner and claim her as my own right then and there, but Cadence stayed the course because Tate is a good man, a good friend. As soon as she said goodnight at the door, though, she found me and the rest… is none of your business.”
“I think it might be,” the heavyset officer tells me with a suspicious gleam in his eyes.

Neither one of the police officers believes Max. Or maybe they do, but they don’t think much of me. My shoulders begin to hunch and I feel myself shrinking into something small and insignificant, just like I felt growing up. When I first started on the stage, before my skin thickened and I would leave every night in tears from the rude catcalls and disrespect.
But I am no longer that girl. I straighten my spine, staring coolly at the police. “It’s none of your business who I spent my evening with,” I announce.
Max gets to his feet. And even though he’s dressed in a pair of jeans that have seen better days, a faded U2 T-shirt and a baseball cap, somehow he gives off an aura of authority. Of superiority.
It must be the money he was born into.

I may look like a million bucks, but I’m missing Max’s I’ve got so much more money than you air, and probably always will.
He slaps the older officer on the shoulder—an attempt at friendliness—but the fact he laid hands on the police and nothing will be done about it is shocking to me.
But the confidence he shows does something else to me.
“Listen, boys, you seem to be hell-bent on insulting my friend, so is there a reason for this? From where I look at it, Cadence has done nothing wrong. She ate dinner with her friend, who unfortunately passed away later that evening.” Max shrugs. “I don’t understand what information she could have for you. Do you want to know what Novi ate? Can you tell them that, Cadence?”
His gaze is warm like he’s telling me he’s got my back.
I draw in a shaky breath because I’m not used to someone having my back.
“The chicken piccata, same as he orders every time he’s here.” I swallow. “Can I ask how he died?”
“Looks like a heart attack,” the second admits reluctantly.
“Natural causes.” Even so, it takes a few breaths to settle myself. If it was natural, there’s no question of me being involved. Especially if there was no evidence of me being there.
Of course, it would be natural. Who would want to hurt Novi?
“Looks that way.”
I run through my memories of leaving his room, sluggish and vague because I had been half asleep. But still, I’m fairly certain, I left no sign of being there.
“But the family would like to know if something brought about the heart attack. Some activity perhaps…” The heavyset officer looks expectantly at me like I’m about to burst out with a confession that I had sex with Novi and give them all the dirty details.
I could give them dirty details about their sex lives just by looking at them. Like how the older one—probably divorced—hasn’t been pleasured by anything other than his right hand in years and wouldn’t know what to do with a woman if he had the chance with one. And the younger one, with the cocky arrogance of a man used to pushing his authority, would think he was good in bed, but I would put money on the fact most of his partners fake it just to get it over with.
From my years of being in intimate situations with men, but never sharing intimacy, I can tell these types of things. It’s my party trick.
So is keeping my anger to myself. A quick intake of breath is the only reaction I give to their suggestion that I sexed Novi to death. “When I left Novi at the door, he said he was going to bed,” I offer, wishing I was on my feet instead of cowering in my chair. But they want it that way. Small woman, easy to intimidate.
I’m not easy to intimidate. “I would think your forensic experts should be able to tell if brushing his teeth proved to be a dangerous activity,” I say in my iciest voice.
“He was found in his bed.”
“That is usually what happens when a person goes to bed,” I snap.
“The man died in his sleep and you’re interrogating Cadence about whether she had sex with him? Really?” Max shakes his head with disgust. “We’re done now.”
“The family—”
“I don’t give a flying fart about the family,” he starts, but I reach for his hand.
“Maximilian,” I chide. “They lost someone important. It’s only natural to demand answers, but officers—” —I paste a smile on my face with difficulty, wanting this to be over and done with— “I’m afraid I’m not in any position to provide any. I can tell you Novi enjoyed his dinner, but only ate a small portion of it, had a scoop of vanilla gelato and a glass of port for dessert. Then he told me he was going to sleep because at eighty-six, I’m sure he was tired.”
“Eighty-six,” Max echoes with a hard glance at each of them. “Natural causes.”
“Thank you for your time.” The first officer backs away with an expression of embarrassment. He should be embarrassed. He should be—
The second officer mumbles something I can’t make out and stalks away without another word.

“And that’s where our tax dollars are going,” Max says with disgust, hands on his hips as he watches them swagger out of the restaurant. “How dare they treat you like that.”
“They dare,” I say simply, lifting my teacup to my lips with a hand that is surprisingly steady. “And it would have been much, much worse had they known I was in the room after dinner, so thank you. I really appreciate your help.”
He turns to me with a smile. “Happy to.” He sits back down, still watching me. “If you feel like those pancakes now…”
I take a deep breath. “No, but thank you. If there’s anything I can do to repay you—” My words are cut off by a rush of pure emotion. I’ve never felt anything like it; one minute I’m about to offer myself to Maximilian Stonee and the next I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus and sent flying through the air.