No Regrets: Jani Kay (Firebird Trilogy Book 2) (9 page)

As I turned the knob of the heavy wooden door, I heard his footsteps pounding down the stairs. Eyes wide, I registered his face, flushed with anger and shock, as I slammed the door shut behind me.

Shit! What now?

Standing in the driveway, with no means to get away, panic rose in my chest. The door opened and Max stepped out, dressed in jeans only. Our eyes locked.

Tearing my gaze away, I dropped my head, shame washing over me as I stood before him.

My head jerked upward as he reached me, a deep guttural laugh filling the deadly silence. “I told you I wouldn’t let you get away this time,” he said smugly.

Asshole.

Cocky
asshole
.

“Well, then...you would be holding me against my will.” Heat rose from my chest up to my cheeks.

He lifted a brow, an amused smile twitching his lips. “Is that right?”

Sexy, sexy bastard.

“You want me, Rebecca, as much as I want you. You can run, but sooner or later, you’ll have to face the truth. I will wait, until you are tired of running. And one day, you will realize what I am saying is true.”

Never.

Biting into my lower lip, I squeezed my eyes shut. I was at his mercy. My purse was still inside with my wallet and phone in it.

So, so screwed.

“Come back inside. Freshen up.”

Taking hold of my arm, he pulled me back towards the house. Once inside, he let go of me. Without a word, I went up to the guest room to get my things, pacing the room as I called a taxi to pick me up half an hour later. Not waiting for help, I lugged my bags down the stairs to the entrance hall, determined to show him I was serious about leaving.

As I walked into the kitchen, where a shirtless Maxwell stood with his back to me, my fucking traitorous heart skipped a beat. His strong, muscular back dipped into a tight, sexy ass and his messed-up hair served as an acute reminder of where my fingers had been.

Oh God.

Turning to face me, his bare chest in front of my face, my gaze honed in on the tattoo of a bird in flight over his heart that I’d first noticed when I’d unbuttoned his shirt. I longed to brush my fingertips over the ink and ask him about it, but instead, I stood frozen to the spot, conflict ripping through me.

“By the way, that was a hot look out on the driveway. Totally fuc—” His mouth snapped shut for a second, but the glint in his eyes remained. “Fantastic—I meant—totally
fantastic
.”

The way his jeans sat on his hips exposing the V that dipped below the waistline was practically indecent. My gaze followed the trail of hair from his navel down south.

I want what’s underneath his jeans.

I twisted my hands together to stop my trembling fingers from reaching out to touch him—wanting desperately to feel the bulge in his pants respond to me. I swallowed hard, unable to take my eyes off him.

God, he’s so fucking hot.

He drew me to him like a moth to a flame. If I allowed him to draw me any closer, I’d burn and die. Light perspiration misted over my skin as I fought to get a grip on my hormones and palpitating heartbeat.

If I opened my mouth to speak it would be to beg him to fuck me—long and hard. I pressed my lips together, clamping them between my teeth, breathing hard through my nose.

What’s wrong with me?
I was a grown woman, not a lovesick teenager. A war was raging in my mind and my body and I was about to lose the battle.

I can't give in, I can’t
. Please God, give me strength.

He studied my face from under hooded lashes for a beat before he spoke, his voice hypnotizing. “Give us a chance, Rebecca. I promise I’ll behave.”

I didn’t respond, just stood there gaping at him.

He held out a glass of orange juice. “Here, drink.”

My mouth dry, I reached for the glass, careful to avoid touching him.

If I touch him now, I’m fucked.

The gesture didn’t go unnoticed. His jaw clenched as he bit down and ground his teeth.

The longer I stood in the kitchen with him looking like that, his beautiful torso begging for my touch, his muscles rippling when he moved, the more the wet pool between my thighs drenched my panties.

I gulped the drink down in one go.

“Whoa, that has alcohol in it! Slow down,” he warned, shaking his head.

Too late.

“Thirsty.” I shoved the glass back at him.

“Rebecca.” He closed the distance between us with two long steps. I shifted away, taking a step back as I held my palm to him.

“Don’t.”

“What can I do to prove to you that I’m serious about us? That I want you in my life? That I want a
real
relationship?” His hand disappeared into his hair, my gaze glued to his flexed bicep.

“End the contract with Natasha. Get a fake divorce. Until then, don’t call me.” My voice sounded harsh, even to myself. I had to stay strong if I didn’t want to end up thoroughly fucked by Maxwell Grant, in the kitchen, in the next five minutes.

Lord help me
,
I'm so close to caving
. . .

It was my turn to laugh, a deep belly laugh with an undertone of hysteria.

T
he next morning, a knock on the hotel room door startled me.

Oh, God, who is it?

Slipping a robe over the T-shirt and panties I’d crept into bed with, I padded to the door with my heart racing. I opened the door to a man holding an oversized bunch of yellow roses.

“Good morning, please put them on the table,” I said as I stepped aside.

As soon as I was alone again, I withdrew and read the attached card with trembling fingers.

Rebecca, I want a chance with you more than anything I have ever wanted. Paperwork at the lawyers.

Max.

Sweet Lord. I blinked away the tears.
That’s brave
. Getting a ‘divorce’ would turn Maxwell’s life upside down. It wouldn’t be pretty. The tabloids and the paparazzi would haunt him. Grant Industries’ share price would dip. He’d have to withstand the wrath of the board and the shareholders alike.

Is Maxwell prepared to pay such a high price to be with me?

I sighed, melancholy settling in my heart. I’d been through too much to give my heart and soul to a man I couldn’t be with publically. First Julian, then Alain—no, it could never happen again, even if his ‘marriage’ was a sham. In the eyes of the world, he was married to Natasha. It was still a damn contract.

If only life wasn’t so damn complicated.

My phone buzzed. Maxwell. If I didn’t answer, sure as hell, he’d come knocking down the door.

“Did you get my message?” He spoke slowly in a monotone voice.

“Yes. Thank you. The roses are beautiful,” I replied.

“Can I see you for lunch? We have a few things to go through before the event tonight.”

I held my breath before I answered. “No.”

“Rebecca, do I need to remind you that I’m your boss? My office. Noon.
Be there
.” His tone was hard. Unrelenting.

“I can’t. I have things to do.”

“Christ, Rebecca, stop being so difficult. One pm. No excuses,” he growled.

I just lost my appetite. I couldn’t be anywhere near him and not lose control. I rubbed my palm over my heart, taking deep breaths to calm my racing mind.

“Okay,” I whispered, worn out from a sleepless night.

His voice softened. “Thank you. I need to see you before tonight.”

Sinking my head into my hands, I sat on the edge of the bed, my body trembling. I didn’t know how much longer I’d be able to resist. It was messing with my head. I sat like that for a few moments contemplating my options.

Maxwell was right.

I wanted him as much as he apparently wanted me. And there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop it.

Except run.

I
was losing my patience with Rebecca. She defied me at every opportunity. Sometimes I wondered why I wanted her so badly—she was just so much
trouble
. I’d always believed that anything worth having was worth fighting for. And fuck me if Rebecca wasn’t making me fight tooth and nail for her.

If only I’d fallen in love with Natasha.
Life would be so much easier
.

Natasha. She was sweet. What man wouldn’t enjoy a woman who gave herself openly and always wanted to please? Fucking her was mostly a pleasure. Except the few times she’d fly into a rage because I never told her that I loved her when she declared her love for me. To Natasha, our marriage was real, even though I constantly reminded her it was just a contract.

A contract with benefits.

A contract I was cancelling.

It was going to be tough to tell her, but I was comforted by the fact Natasha had scored a good deal. She’d worked hard and reaped the rewards as one of the world’s top models, paid a shitload of money for looking gorgeous. I was happy for her that she’d reached her goals.

I buzzed my secretary. “Ms. Price, please set up a meeting with Natasha for when she arrives home tomorrow.” My stomach churned. It wasn’t going to go down well with my fake wife, but I’d always known this day was coming.

My thoughts returned to Rebecca. What was it about her that drove me so crazy? Was it because she resisted me that I had to have her? Images of her hot body flashed through my mind. I remembered the feel and taste of her skin. My dick hardened.
Fuck.

Natasha with her model looks and tight body couldn’t get me this hard. Why was it different with Rebecca? I thought about her all the time. Ever since I first laid eyes on her years before she knew about my existence, she had become my obsession. More than that, she’d become my heart’s desire.

I loved everything about her: her fiery temperament, her passion for life, her beautiful face and body, and even her stubborn streak that drove me crazy. I wouldn’t want her any other way—Rebecca was perfect for me. After last night, I could imagine a life together, two parts of a whole when we became one. And we would. It was our destiny—everything we had been through had brought us to this point. Forged us like metal to become stronger so that our relationship could endure anything.

Although Rebecca’s resistance to accepting the truth was driving me insane, I understood her fear held her back. I had to be patient as she learned how to deal with it. It wasn’t easy, but anything worth having, was worth fighting for. I’d discovered that as a kid and it had brought me
almost
everything I desired in life—from a boy with nothing to a man with everything.

This was the final piece of the puzzle: finding the one woman to spend the rest of my life with. All in—heart, body and soul. With certainty that came from deep within, I grasped that the woman for me would forever be Rebecca.

Pleased I’d be able to finalize the contract when I told Natasha face to face we were over, I smiled and returned to business. I had a shitload of work to do before Rebecca came to my office at one o’clock.

One phone call after the next, the morning flew by faster than I’d anticipated. My stomach grumbled, ready for lunch. My phone buzzed. Perfect timing—Rebecca had arrived.

“Let her in, Ms. Price.”

“Um...it’s the caterer, Mr. Grant. He’s brought the lunch you ordered.”

I glanced at my watch. One pm exactly. “Let him in to set it up.”

A minute later, I salivated as the aroma of food filled my office. The caterer had set up many lunch meetings in my office before, so he was fast and efficient and out of the door a short while later.

Rebecca’s probably caught in traffic
. New York was crazy at this time of day. If I didn’t love it so much here, I’d consider moving to a quieter part of town. But this location was perfect for business, and the view alone made fighting traffic worthwhile. That was also why I had an apartment up Fifth Avenue. I could walk to the office if I wanted to.

I went back to my desk and made a few more phone calls while waiting so that it’d take my attention off the hunger pangs eating my stomach. I kept an eye on the time. Twenty minutes later, restless, shifting in my chair, I glanced at the table. The food was getting cold.

Dammit, Rebecca, where are you?

My phone alerted me to a text message. Rebecca. Thank fuck! She was hopefully close. Smiling, I got to my feet and walked over to the window to read the message.

Maxwell. I’m at the airport, about to board the plane. I can’t do this. Sorry. My resignation will be on your desk as soon as I get back to Munich to pack my things.

The smile slid from my face. Jesus fucking Christ. I slammed my fist against the glass as I cursed out loud.

Rebecca was killing me.

A
t six thirty, I called the driver to bring my car around. It was time to go to Natasha’s place and face the music. Staring out the window as we drove to her apartment, I was determined to go ahead with the plan.

I’d called Rebecca as soon as I read her message, but of course, she’d switched her phone off. Next, I rang the airline to delay the flight, but I was already too late. They were probably ready for takeoff when she’d sent the text because the plane was already in the sky, on its way to Germany.

At first, I raged about her standing me up for lunch and the charity event. I paced my office, my appetite vaporized as anger roiled in my stomach.

On autopilot, I dragged myself through the evening, smiling and acting the perfect host when in reality I had an empty hole where my heart should’ve been. Not even the twelve million dollars we raised for charity could cheer me up, all because of one woman.

It’s fucking insane she could have this effect on me. If only I could go back to the days where I didn’t care who was in my bed as long as she got me off.

I took the elevator up to Natasha’s penthouse. Even though we were supposedly married, we never lived together. I used my allergy to her precious cats and her crazy round-the-clock schedule as my reasons for putting her up in style in her own place.

As I stepped out of the elevator, Natasha flung her arms around me.