Page 52 of Maxim

“I’m allergic.”

For a moment, his happy little smile slips and he nervously plucks at a loose thread on his canary yellow sweater.

Dylan’s favorite color is yellow. He wears it a lot. I heard him tell Gareth, a colleague in the advertising department, that yellow is a positive color and we all need more positivity in our lives.

Given the guy writes obits for a living, it makes sense.

After a few beats of awkward silence, he brightens.

“My cousin is allergic!” He steps closer to me, on a mission to convert me into a cat lady, and I fight the urge to sneeze. “She takes antihistamines and it keeps her allergies under control when she visits us. I could get you some if you like?”

Just as I’m about to scream, the elevator pings to let us know we have reached the ground floor. The doors slide open and I dash out, desperate for some fresh air free from cat dander.

Dylan jogs after me, still extolling the virtues of antihistamines, just as a tall man stalks in through the glass doors that face the street. Barry on the security desk looks up with interest.

I grind to an abrupt halt and Dylan bumps into me with a soft oomph.

“Natalya…I don’t like being ignored,” the man says in a threatening manner.

The low growl of his voice does something to me. Something I can’t ignore. Dylan speaks behind me but I don’t hear him. One hundred percent of my focus is on Max.

He strides toward me like a dark avenging Angel of Death. Silence descends on the lobby. Barry watches us, chewing gum, ignoring the phone ringing on his desk. Dylan steps back, some innate sense of self-preservation kicking in.

Not that Max pays any attention to him. Why would he? Max is an apex predator and Dylan is… not even a blip on his periphery.

“Is he with you?” Dylan whispers stage left.

“No,” I hiss. “Never met him before.”

Max hears me and scowls. “We both know that’s not true, malyshka.” He smirks just as he reaches me. “I know you very well.”

I don’t like the direction this conversation is taking. There are too many people in the lobby, including my editor, who has just emerged from the elevator looking between me and the Grim Reaper with a mixture of interest and concern.

His concern is warranted. There’s a strong chance I might kill Max in the next five seconds.

“Go away!” I hiss.

Max folds his arms across his bulky chest, grin widening when he spots me eye-fucking him. As any red-blooded female would do under the same circumstances. Just because I hate him right now doesn’t mean I’m dead from the waist down.

“No. You refused to answer my calls or reply to my messages.”

“Maybe I don’t give a fuck what you have to say, eh?”

Barry is thoroughly engrossed in the drama. It is the most exciting thing to happen in this place in years.

“Is everything OK?” Jakob, my editor, asks. “Need me to call security?”

Pretty sure Barry is security, but whatever.

“Everything is fine, please fuck off,” Max growls. From the way he glares at Jakob, I’m concerned bloodshed is imminent. I can’t be responsible for anything dire happening to my editor. Aside from the fact he’s my boss and I quite like him, he has a family.

I’m pretty sure Max isn’t a homicidal maniac with anger issues, but he is riled up and as much as I would like him to fuck right off and leave me the fuck alone, it’s obvious he won’t go until I’ve given him a chance to explain whatever the scene I saw was all about.

How did he even know I was there anyway?

I glance sideways at Jakob, who’s pulled his phone out and is probably calling security. “I’m good, thanks for asking. This man is someone I know. Kind of.”

Max growls at the suggestion we barely know each other.

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