When I wake up, Max is not in the bed. I take a shower and try to wash away the embarrassment from last night. I can't believe I was practically begging him to have sex with me, after telling him last Monday that we were done.
And his comment last night that he will be taking me to bed today unless I say no has me worried. Because I'm not sure I can say no, especially if he touches me, kisses me. My attraction to Max is just too incendiary. Sometimes I feel like if he even just looks at me a certain way, I might burst into flames.
I get out of the shower, wrap myself in one of the fancy robes and step out into the living area. No Max. I check my phone for messages, realizing belatedly that that's the first thing I should have done when I woke up.
There's a text from Max. Gabe and I are in the club lounge. Join us.
One of the advantages of concierge level. The lounge is open pretty much all the time, and provides not just a breakfast buffet, but snacks during the day and even a light dinner, coupled with comfortable seating, fast WIFI, a quiet place to work and a killer view of Manhattan through the floor to ceiling windows.
Still, considering the confidential things we might want to discuss, I'm surprised Max didn't just invite Gabe to our suite and order room service.
I put on black leggings, a cami, and a thin red pullover sweater that was one of those business casual purchases Martina talked me into on our first shopping trip, and slide my feet into a pair of soft red leather flats (also from the same shopping) and head over there. I'd rather be wearing my yoga pants and a t-shirt, but I remember seeing something about a dress code for the lounge.
Max and Gabe are sitting at a table near the wall of windows, with mostly empty plates in front of them so I assume they've been here awhile. I walk over and Max tells me to get some food and join them.
"Remember," he cautions me, "we're meeting Gino for a poolside lunch at his hotel, so don't fill up too much here."
I walk over to the recessed area that holds the buffet, and I get why Max chose it instead of room service. It's everything you could imagine a luxury breakfast buffet would offer.
Keeping in mind Max's statement about meeting Gino for lunch later, I use restraint. I put some smoked salmon, capers, small rounds of bread, and a scoop of cream cheese on my plate. I also can't resist sampling the fluffy scrambled eggs that are clearly made of real eggs - and in case you had a question, there's a discreet sign near them that proclaims they are organic, free range eggs. This is nothing like the breakfast buffets we used to get at public defenders conferences when we stayed in those inexpensive hotels that promise a hot breakfast and give you reconstituted powdered eggs.
I add some fresh fruit, and some kind of miniature crab cake with Hollandaise sauce, then head back to the table. Someone - either Max or Gabe - already got me coffee and juice.
"I could get used to living like this," I joke, then realize that being with Max is living like this.
"I've been thinking about what happened last night," Max says, "and it just doesn't add up. "Tell us again exactly what this person said to you."
"It all happened so fast." I pause and take a sip of coffee, feeling instantly more alert as the caffein hits my bloodstream. "But I'm pretty sure the only thing she said was 'Come with me or I'll cut you.'"
Max nods. "So she was trying to take you someplace. But where?"
"What puzzles me," Gabe says, "is that if she was following you she had to have seen me standing right outside the door. And there isn't any other exit. So I don't know what someone would have thought they'd accomplish."
"Maybe she was just going to push me into one of the stalls and rob me." I turn to Max. "When you were in your meeting, I saw a drug sale go down really close to Gino's VIP table. It surprised me. But if that kind of thing goes on in the club, maybe it's not so usual to be accosted in the bathroom by someone who wants money for drugs. It could have been just random."
"It could," Max says, but I'm not a big believer in coincidences. "First you're followed in Miami and some guy tries to get you in a car. Now you're the person this happens to in a restroom in Brooklyn in a club Gino owns?" He shakes his head. "I'm not buying random."
"You don't think someone followed us from Miami, do you?"
"That seems a little farfetched," Max agrees, "but people in Miami also have connections in New York. I do."
Gabe gets up to get another cup of coffee, and I study Max.
"Maybe you were the target. I mean, scaring me was just a way to get at you."
"I'm going to keep you close to me the rest of this trip," Max says, his eyes intense as he stares directly into mine. "Very close."
I nod. Being under Max's protection is not something I'm about to shrug off. But I also am not oblivious to the double entendre in the way he said "very close."
Then something clicks with me that he said earlier.
"Wait, did you say we're meeting Gino for lunch by the pool at his hotel?"
"Yes," Max says. "Problem?"
"Um, I guess that's why you texted me to bring a bikini."
"And you didn't?"
"I thought you were joking. Who brings a bikini to Manhattan?"
Max settles back in his chair. His face is stern but his eyes are laughing.
"Did you forget about that little conversation we had about you doing what I tell you and asking questions later?"
Ooops. "I seriously thought you were joking."
"Well," Max says, "we have a few options here." He leans closer. "I could pretend I'm mad at you. I certainly wouldn't mind putting you across my knee again." Now there's definitely a twinkle in his eye.
As he says it, a hot bolt of lust rushes through me. I can't help it. I'm just glad Gabe is out of earshot, chatting with the hostess over at the coffee bar, because I'm sure I'm blushing.
Then Max continues, "But we both know how that would end up."
With both of us naked and spending a few hours having sex in the bed, on the couch, in the shower, and anywhere else in the spacious suite. Having more of what I try not to remind myself has been the best sex of my life.
I try to keep my voice level. "And the other options?"
"We go over to Gino's hotel a little early and visit one of the shops. It's a tropical resort themed hotel - you know they will have no shortage of bikinis and things to wear over them."
"That sounds like a plan," I tell him, happy to be moving to a safer topic.
Then he gives me one of those sexy half smiles and lowers his voice.
"I'm keeping the first option on standby. To be reconsidered when our business is concluded for the day."
Oh, boy.
"I'll keep that in mind," I say, and wonder if he can tell my heart is racing. Sex games with Max is not in my plans for this evening.
But Max apparently has plans of his own.
"By the way, thank you," I tell him, and he raises an eyebrow quizzically.
"For not taking advantage of me last night," I finish awkwardly.
Max gives me a long measured stare that has me shifting in my seat.
"Make no mistake, Hadley, I intend to have you tonight."
I feel myself flush.
"That's not going to happen, Max."
"Really? We'll see."
Then Gabe is back at the table, and I can't say anything more.
***
Max was right. I'm now the owner of a ridiculously priced bikini that provides some coverage on top, even though it's strapless, but the bottom is little more than a thong in the back. At least the cover-up we bought with it keeps me from feeling ridiculously self-conscious.
I've never been really comfortable with super-revealing swimsuits. A one piece tank suit I can actually swim in is more my style. But I'm not planning on doing any swimming today.
The cover up is a loose-fitting eyelet halter dress that flows from a collar band around the neck, in muted dark blue. It ends a few inches above my knees. Classy and not revealing. Paired with the straw hat and the tan leather sandals Max insisted on buying as well, it works perfectly.
Which makes the bathing suit itself seem almost superfluous. It's not like I'm going to be actually diving into the pool.
As I told Max, I don't want Gino or Joey D ogling me, and I definitely want to avoid anything that catches Vincenzo's interest.
"That guy gives me the creeps," I tell Max, as we exit the shop.
"You'd be smart to keep your distance," Max advises. "He's not a good guy."
Which makes me even more concerned, since none of the people we've been hanging out with could be considered "good guys."
For Max to say this about Vincenzo seems like an understatement.
Maybe he's even worse than I imagined.
***
"So what did you think of the club?" Gino asks me this directly, as we sit at a private cabana near the rooftop pool and are served lunch by a waiter who appears to be assigned exclusively to us.
"It's really not my kind of place," I tell him honestly, then wonder if that was the right decision.
Vincenzo isn't here, which has made the atmosphere of this meeting a bit more relaxed, at least for me.
"Why not?" Gino asks, and I glance over at Max, not sure how direct I should be. I'm nervous about offending Gino, but I get the feeling polite lies would offend him far more than the truth.
"He wants to know the truth, Hadley," Max tells me, and Gino nods.
He's leaning back in his chair, smoking a fat cigar that I'm amazed no one from the hotel has told him to put out. Then again, maybe they know who he is. His short-sleeved shirt is an exposure of tropical foliage, and he's wearing white Bermuda shorts and slip-on canvas shoes. He looks like exactly what he is - a mobster on vacation.
Except this is not a vacation, I remind myself. It's business.
"It's just, usually, when you walk into a really popular club, you can immediately pick up the vibe. Also, those clubs cater to a certain clientele. You know, hipsters, millennials, Gen X, Gen Z, young professionals. I just couldn't figure out what the focus was for this one."
"Interesting," Gino says. "My previous manager told me that his strategy was to target as many demographics as possible. Be the club that fits everyone's taste."
"Well," I say, "sometimes when you try to fit everyone's taste you any up not pleasing anyone. I mean, do you want to be the club where everyone can have an okay time, or do you want to be the club that a specific group of customers considers their number one choice?"
He looks over at Max. "Pretty much what you told me when we met yesterday in the office, before the two of you had a chance to talk about it. So that gives it some validity, since you both reached the same conclusion."
Joey D takes a long pull on his bottle of some kind of fancy beer. "That last manager was a worthless piece of shit."
"Yeah, well, I don't repeat my mistakes," Gino says.
He turns back to Max. "I wasn't altogether on board with your proposal to just come on as a consultant instead of taking a stake, but it's growing on me. Maybe we'll add Hadley here as a consultant, too."
Max looks like he's deliberating this, while inside me I'm screaming oh, hell, no. This is the last thing I need. Why didn't I keep my big mouth shut about my opinions on the club?
"You know," Max says slowly, "it might make sense just to keep her in the background. Let her run her thoughts by me. That way Andrew Reese doesn't find out anything about it."
"I don't give a fuck what that asshole Andrew Reese finds out about," Gino fumes.
"Yeah. But she does," Max says, gesturing toward me with a head nod.
And now my head is really spinning. There obviously is some connection between Gino and my grandfather. I wasn't imagining the way he emphasized Reese when he said my full name yesterday, even though he later passed it off as Malcolm just looking up my profile on the Florida Bar website.
And now Max is working for Gino as a nightclub consultant, and I'm supposed to be some kind of secret consultant, not just on legal matters but apparently how to market a club in Brooklyn?
"Hadley?" Gino must have asked me something and I wasn't paying attention.
"Sorry, I let my thought wander for a second."
"I was asking you if you had any other observations last night."
"Um, just while you were all meeting I noticed that there are some pretty blatant drug deals going on right out in the open. So I was just thinking you might want to discourage that kind of thing, because it tends to scare away some of the higher profile customers. You know, people who don't want to be someplace where a drug bust might happen and they end up with their picture in those online tabloids."
"Huh. That's something to think about."
Max speaks up. "Gabe and I wondered if that whole incident in the restroom last night was just some junkie trying to rob Hadley so she could afford a fix."
Gino narrows his eyes, then visibly relaxes. "That's consistent with what Vincenzo found out."
"Which was?" Max asks.
"Absolutely nothing. So yeah, probably some random person acting on their own."
Max nods. I don't think either of them believe that, but I decide I've done enough talking.
"So," Joey D says, pushing his mostly empty plate to the side. "Can we get down to the real business now? The reason we're all here."
And I realize the whole thing with the nightclub was just some kind of a side deal. I'm about to find out why Gino insisted that I drop everything and come to New York City for the weekend because my legal expertise is apparently required.
"Yes," Malcolm says, pulling a slim laptop out of a case I hadn't noticed he had with him, and glancing over at Gino for approval. "I think it's time to tell Max and Hadley what this is about."