I'm naked except for the bracelet I never took off last night, so I pull on Max's discarded shirt that was lying on the edge of the bed. I walk over to the doorway and look out into the main suite. Max is sitting in the little dining area, his back to me. He's fully dressed and looks fresh showered.
There's a basket of what looks like breakfast rolls on the table, and a large carafe of coffee. He has his laptop open and appears to be working.
All of a sudden I feel nervous. I'm not sure what I want to say to him.
I take the easy way out and backtrack to hit the shower and give myself time to think. I slip the bracelet off and place it carefully on the bedside table, then drop Max's shirt back where I found it.
When I turn toward the large shower head and let the warm spay stream over my face I wish Max would step in behind me, run his hands over my body and pull me close. We communicate so much better with sex than we do with words.
And last night . . . Last night it felt like something so much more than sex. It felt like a beginning, when just days ago I told him this was the end.
How can the same man who runs a criminal organization, does shady deals with mob bosses, and makes it his personal business to crack an abuser's ribs with a lead pipe - how can that be the same man who makes me feel so safe and cared for, the man who showed me such a vulnerable side last night when he shared his mother's story?
The man who makes loves to me with such a combination of strength and gentleness that it brings me to my knees, constantly putting my pleasure before his own.
A man whose arms I fell asleep in last night and felt like I'd come home.
As I get out of the shower I hear some activity out in the main room. At first I think Gabe is here, then I realize Max just had another tray delivered.
The door clicks shut as the hotel room service person leaves, and I towel dry my hair and run a wide tooth comb through it, spray a little conditioner on and scrunch the natural waves. I slip into one of the luxury robes the hotel provides, at least at this level.
There has to be some sort of compromise possible here. Some way that Max and I can be together without me abandoning my values. But I've never been a don't ask don't tell kind of person. I would have a really hard time living a life where a large part of who Max is couldn't be shared with me.
I walk out of the bedroom, still debating how to start the conversation, and what the end goal, realistically, could even be.
Max speaks first.
"I heard you in the shower so I ordered fresh coffee," he says, without turning.
"Thanks." I walk toward him and can see it's not just coffee. There's also a carafe of orange juice, and a platter with New York bagels and all the fixings. A separate plate of fresh fruit. My stomach gives a tiny rumble and I realize I'm actually famished. Last night's dinner seems like a distant memory.
I smile when I notice the bag with our forgotten dessert is also on the table, still unopened. I'm thinking the rich chocolate torte probably survived fine.
I walk up behind him and lean down, putting my arms around him, and am surprised when he stiffens slightly.
"Is something wrong, Max?"
He stays perfectly still. He doesn't push me away, but neither does he reach out to touch me.
"I'm not going to apologize for last night."
I frown, because that was surprising. "Why would you apologize when I was the one who seduced you?"
"Sit down, Hadley," he says. I expect him to pull me around onto his lap, but instead he gestures to a chair across the table from him.
Something isn't right, and I'm starting to feel very uneasy. What could have happened between last night and right now to make this change in Max, this coolness?
I walk around and take a seat in one of the chairs, and Max pours me some coffee. I stir in cream from the little pitcher and try to get a sense of what's going on here.
Finally, when Max doesn't say anything, I ask him. "Did I do something wrong?"
He gives a short laugh. "Wrong? No, Hadley, you didn't do anything wrong. That would be my department."
"What do you mean?"
"I never should have allowed myself to make love to you last night."
Part of my brain registers that at least he's referring to it as making love, not just having sex. But the little bit of relief I feel from that is overpowered by my confusion about what exactly he's trying to say to me.
"You're the one who's been saying since we got to New York that you were planning to have me in your bed again."
Max nods. "That's true. Things have changed now."
"Why? What's so different now? I don't understand."
Max stares at me, then shakes his head. "As someone who broke up with me less than a week ago - for all the right reasons - I'd think you'd be relieved that I've finally come around to your way of thinking."
"Well I'm not," I snap. "Maybe things have changed now for me, too."
If he's annoyed at my sudden flare of temper, he doesn't show it.
"Eat," he tells me. "We have a lot to talk about, and there's no point doing it on an empty stomach."
The beautiful spread of New York deli-style bagels no longer holds the appeal for me that it did when I first saw it on the table. I pick up the top half of a lightly toasted bagel with swirls of cinnamon running through it and mechanically add cream cheese, lox, a slice of onion and some capers, then take a small bite.
Max nods his approval.
"You're not eating?" I ask him.
"I ate an hour ago."
"You could have woken me up."
"I could have," he says. "But I preferred not to."
"You don't get to call all the shots," I tell him.
"That's just the thing, Hadley. If you're with me, I do get to call all the shots. I decide whether you come with me on a trip, or if it's too dangerous. I decide just how much to tell you about my business, and how much to keep to myself. I decide where we stay, how we travel, and who we meet with when we get there."
"You're exaggerating," I tell him, fighting back the panicky feeling that's growing in me. "If an issue comes up we can discuss it. That doesn't mean -"
"I'm not done," Max says, interrupting me, and for the first time this morning there's an edge to his voice. For the first time this morning when I look at him I'm seeing the reputed Miami crime boss, not my lover. A man who speaks and people do what he says, without question.
Max leans forward, looks at me intently. "I will choose who your friends are, because some people might try to associate with you because of your association with me, and their motive could be to cause harm to my business interests or to my family. And if I tell you to stay away from someone, you'll do it. That even applies to who you take on as a client in your criminal law practice."
My widen, and Max nods.
"You didn't expect that one, did you? I won't have you manipulated by one of my competitors to take on a case that's just a vehicle for them to undermine my business, or put you in a position where your safety is at risk."
He leans back in his chair, watches me as I take all this in.
"Is that you want, Hadley? Is that what you expect out of a relationship?"
"Of course not. But I'm in love with you Max."
It's not the way I imagined saying it, but there it is. The words are out, and I can't take them back.
And Max is just staring at me, his eyes darkened to a deeper blue, but unreadable.
"I know what I said before," I tell him, opening my hands beseechingly, "but it's not that easy. I can't just shut off my feelings for you, Max."
"That's exactly what you have to do."
"Don't do this, Max." I scan his face, looking for some sign that he is wavering. And I understand now how he must have felt Monday night when I broke up with him. Because now he's apparently breaking up with me, and it hurts like hell.
"I don't want to give up on us."
Max sighs. "There can't be an us."
I shake my head. This is crazy. "You don't mean that," I tell him. "Last night you said there will only ever be you. I heard you, so don't bother denying it."
"I have no intention of denying it. How many times do I have to remind you that I will never lie to you?"
I stare back at him and, dammit, I have tears in my eyes. I try to blink them away, furious at myself for letting him make me cry.
His voice gentles. "Hadley, just because you are the only one for me doesn't mean I get to have you. That's the mistake my father made. And that mistake cost my mother her life."