The next morning, Max and I sit in the little dining area by the windows, having the breakfast room service just delivered.
The fact that Max is sitting on the same chair he spanked me on last night isn't lost on me, and I feel myself flush a little when he glances up from his screen and immediately picks up on what I'm thinking.
He actually grins. "How's your bottom this morning?"
"My bottom is fine, no thanks to you."
The truth is, I am a little sore, but not in that area. Being sore has more to do with having sex multiple times last night, and then starting my morning with Max taking me one more time in the shower, with my back against the smooth tile and my legs around his waist.
"Actually you should thank me," Max says. "I could have spanked you a lot harder."
"I know it started out with you angry," I confess, "but it ended up being the hottest thing I've ever done with a man."
"Hmm." Max looks smug. "I'll have to see what else I can do to expand your horizons."
"The shower sex was pretty good, too," I tell him, and he laughs.
"You're not going to tell me that was the first time you ever had sex in the shower."
"No," I say and find myself grinning back at him. "But it's the first time it was done really well. The last time I tried it I got hit with full power spray jets right in my eyes, then I slipped on some body wash and landed on my butt on the tiles."
"I would never let you fall," Max says. "Or forget to keep the spray out of your face."
"I know," I say quietly, and it suddenly feels like we're talking about something different altogether. Something I'm not ready to think about yet, like what exactly is happening between Max and me, and what he's really involved in, and where it might be heading.
"Why did you come up the suite last night when I told you not to?" he asks me between bites.
"Oh, now I get a chance to explain?" I try for lighthearted, even though my head is swimming.
Max gives a little laugh. "You were going over my knee regardless of any explanations or excuses. But I'm curious."
"I set my phone down on the vanity in the closet while I was getting ready to go to the casino yesterday," I explain. "Then Gabe said you wanted to meet us downstairs, and when I hurried to finish getting ready and switch out my purse, I forgot my phone."
"Getting your phone was important enough for you to risk coming back up here?"
I take another bite of waffle, then smile at him sheepishly. "I had no idea you'd be back up here that quickly. I thought you'd be in that high stakes poker room for at least another hour."
"And the reason you needed your phone so desperately?"
"I wanted to take a selfie and text it to you while you were playing poker."
Max raises an eyebrow and I hasten to add, "No, not that kind of photo. Wait, let me show you."
I get up and go back into the bedroom and grab my little sequined clutch, and bring it back, dumping out the five $5,000 chips on the table in front of him.
"What's this?" Max asks.
"It's $25,000," I tell him.
"I can see that. Where did it come from?"
"Remember the $5,000 in chips you gave me when Gabe and I met you downstairs? I played a little blackjack."
"No shit," Max says.
"Anyway, you know we had that conversation on the phone last week about what you imagined me doing in the casino," I start, and am amazed that I feel myself blushing. Seriously? After what happened last night, I'm blushing over a little almost phone sex?
"I wanted to take a picture of me holding these in my hand, and text it to you with a little quip about how since I didn't lose your money gambling, you'd have to think up another reason to spank me." I roll my eyes. "Guess I gave you one after all."
Max laughs. "Come over here."
I walk around the table and he pulls me onto his lap, puts his arms around me, and kisses me. It's a casual kiss, but it still packs some heat.
"You're adorable," he says.
"I'll take it," I tell him. "I'd prefer you have a brilliant legal mind, but—"
"That, too," Max says. "Obviously."
And I'm sorry I said anything because now we're both thinking about the changes I made to the agreements yesterday.
"Getting that text from you would have made me smile," Max says, steering our conversation back on course. "And be even more anxious to finish my meetings and go find you in the casino. But—"
"Yeah. I get it. Not worth me coming back up to the suite."
"You could have texted me from Gabe's phone."
I snort. "Right. Use Gabe's phone to send a suggestive text with the word spanking in it? Not likely."
"Text and delete," Max says.
"Well I didn't think of that."
"No," Max says, "you were too busy sneaking out of the ladies room while Gabe was waiting for you in the bar, and practically giving him a heart attack when he couldn't find you."
"I was going to text him on my way back down. He's not in trouble with you for losing track of me, is he?"
"No."
"I suppose I'll have to apologize when I see him." Which I'm not looking forward to, since the last he saw us Max was really angry at me. And I'm hoping Gabe didn't speculate too much about what went on after Max told him to leave.
"So, where are you going to spend it?" Max asks me, gesturing toward the casino chips on the table.
"Me? Oh, no, it's your money."
"Nonsense," Max says, "you won it."
"In that case, it's going into a nice safe investment. Not everybody's obscenely rich like you," I tell him. I shift myself in his lap to lean against his shoulder.
"So," I say, mustering up the courage to ask what I've been wanting to ask all morning. . "The mob? Vegas?"
Max goes quiet, and the air around us feels suddenly thick.
He sighs. "There are certain obligations I have. Things my father put in motion that cannot be ignored just because he's no longer in a position to handle them personally. I intended to keep you separate from that aspect of my life."
Now I'm wondering how many generations this goes back in Max's family. I know he wears his father's signet ring, and that it has some sort of significance. Was it passed down from his grandfather? From a generation before that?
It's starting to get through to me that the things Max is involved in are probably not just illegal but also very dangerous.
"Max," I say, "if this thing between us is going to be more than just a weekend of sex in Las Vegas, I want to know all of you, not just the version you edit for the news media and the society pages in Miami and the downtown business community. I want to know the real you."
He studies me for a moment before responding.
"Hadley, there are parts of me I can't share with you. Not now, and probably not ever. Because it would be too dangerous. For both of us."
I digest this. What he's telling me is that there are things he's involved in, illegal things, that I'm better off not knowing. And I realize that not only could I get hurt because of it, I could also be put in a position where I would have to either perjure myself or testify against him. And either alternative could signal the end of my legal career.
"But if I'm your lawyer," I say, thinking out loud, "anything you tell me is protected by attorney-client privilege."
Max sets his fork down. "Hadley. You know very well there's a difference between a privileged communication about something that happened in the past, and you actually helping to put together a set of documents that—" He stops talking. He doesn't want to say it out loud.
The rest of the sentence is documents designed to set up a complex money laundering scheme. I'm already an accessory to a crime that hasn't been committed yet. This is why he didn't want me involved. Why he didn't want me anywhere near Gino and Malcolm and Joey D and Bull.
I can feel a little bit of the color draining out of my face. Even though I already knew, talking about it with Max while sunlight steams through the window over our breakfast table makes it that much more real.
Max looks down at me, not unkindly. "I think you understand now."
"It's a legitimate deal," I whisper, "on the face of it."
"That's what I'm counting on," Max said, "and ironically it now looks even more legitimate, thanks to your input. But Hadley, that's not what I wanted. I wanted you to handle criminal charges against any of my employees who get in trouble. Be a key part of my legal team if the feds ever think they can pin something on me. They haven't lost so far for lack of trying. What I didn't want is for you to potentially be implicated in something that happens later."
"I'm sorry."
He shakes his head, and slices into his omelet, offering me a bite. At least this conversation hasn't made either of us lose our appetite.
A new thought occurs to me. "Does Gino own this casino hotel?"
"No." Max shakes his head. "These days they are all owned by huge corporations. The heyday for the Vegas mob ran from the 1940's to the mid-1980's. Ended quite a bit before our time."
"If the mob no longer controls the Vegas casinos, why was your meeting here?"
"The old school guys like Gino come here for a vacation. And it's a great cover for the kind of business meetings you don't want people noticing. Anyone who did see us together is going to associate it with the high stakes poker game."
"What's Gino's last name?" When I looked at the documents, neither he nor Joey D appeared on the signature pages. Just companies that I assume they control.
"The less you know the better," Max tells me. "And don't start Googling."
I laugh, and Max sits me up straighter so he can look me in the eye.
"I mean it, Hadley. Google search histories can be traced."
"You are serious."
"Damn right I'm serious. I can't avoid doing business with Gino and Joey D. It's . . . my legacy, you could say. But I need to keep it on the down low. And now so do you."
I nod. "Okay. I won't dig around. I promise."
"You have any questions, you come to me. If I can't answer, I'll tell you so. But either way, it ends with that conversation. And Hadley, when I tell you to do something—or not do something—I expect you to follow my instructions exactly, even if they don't make sense to you."
"Yeah, I got that message," I tell him, shifting slightly to rub my bottom.
I try to pass it off with a little bit of humor, but he reads my face.
"Go ahead," Max says. "Say what you're thinking."
"It is not easy to say this while I'm sitting on your lap." I move to get up, but his arm comes around me, holding me in place.
"Try."
I tilt my head to look up at him. "I really like you. Being with you is the most exciting thing that's ever happened to me."
"And the problem?"
"Max, I won't be with a man who thinks he owns me, thinks he can tell me what I can and can't do. Not even if I really like him. Not even if it's the best sex I've ever had." I pause. "Not even if I feel the way I feel when you walk into the room."
He waits a few moments before responding, and I'm holding my breath.
Is he going to say sorry, it's my way or nothing?