Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss

Ch. 6: A Dangerous Man

"Absolutely not," I say, my mind going immediately to something kinky that I would never do. At least, I don't think I'd ever do . . .

I can almost see him smiling through the phone. "Maybe we'll just start with the tamest one and work our way up. But Hadley?"

"Yes, Max?"

"You will tell me all of them."

I bite back a smile. "Maybe."

"As much as I'd like to continue this conversation right now, my plane is about to land. I'll call you later tonight."

"Have a good trip, Max," I tell him, then add, "Thank you for taking care of me last night."

"It was my pleasure," Max says, which is nice of him, although I seriously doubt that feeding, undressing, and putting a tipsy woman to bed is at the top of his list of things he'd like to do in this convenient apartment at the end of a long day.

He lowers his voice again. "Decide which one you're going to tell me when I call you tonight."

That sends another little thrill rippling through my body. If I get his meaning, he's planning on having phone sex with me tonight.

I just wish he could be here for the real thing.

It's only after we hang up the phone that I realize I forgot to ask him where he is, or when he'll be back.

***

Max wasn't kidding about stocking guest items in the towel closet. There's an entire shelf devoted to brand new toothbrushes, soaps, bubble bath, deodorant, even feminine hygiene products. I feel a little twist of jealousy when I wonder how many women have stayed over here with Max after an evening in his club downstairs.

Is this a regular thing for him?

I push the thought out of my mind. I just met the man yesterday, although at the moment it doesn't seem possible that my flight here from Philadelphia was only, what, 36 hours ago? So much has happened since I stepped onto that plane.

By the time Gabe knocks on the door to the apartment, I've treated myself to a luxurious bubble bath, and I'm dressed in the outfit from a trendy nearby boutique that someone dropped off outside the door. Today Gabe is wearing blue shorts - not navy blue but more of a gray tone, I guess - and a white t-shirt, with slip-on boat shoes. Although his muscles are still obvious under the shirt, he looks less like a bouncer and more like an executive who just goes to the gym a lot.

I'm trying to figure out what exactly he does for Max. Is he just security, or is he involved in some sort of criminal activities? I'm surprised when I ask him how long he's been in Miami and he tells me he grew up here, and he and Max were childhood friends.

Once I'm back "home" in my temporary condo, I text Martina, and seconds later she calls me. I fill her in on the fact that I spent the night with Max, but no, nothing happened.

"You do realize," Martina says, "that the fact that's he doesn't sexually assault drunk women doesn't mean he's not also a criminal."

"My whole career," I tell Martina, "is built on the principle that people are presumed innocent until proven guilty. So far I haven't seen any indication that Maxwell Bennett is anything other than a wealthy, successful businessman."

Except he has a gun hidden in his underwear drawer. I'm not sure why I don't mention that little piece of information to Martina, but I don't.

"Yeah, well, just don't be stupid about it."

"I won't," I promise, even though it's possible that boat has already sailed. Instead of staying as far away from Max as possible, I'm thinking about having phone sex with him tonight, something I'm also not mentioning to Martina.