Page 185 of His Pretty Little Duet

"No, Fawn."

"It's important!" I whisper-cry, burying my face in her hair a little to muffle the words. "I just want to talk to Max. He's upset, and I don't think he'll talk to me if he thinks H—Boltonis listening…" I hate myself for this, but I need her to do this, so I manipulate the side of her who pretends she knows things she doesn't, who pretends she's worldly when she's not. "You know what men are like." I chuckle, a sound so utterly forced that it hurts. "All macho around each other."

"Can we have some space, please? You're like such a space invader," she calls over my shoulder, hopefully to my pain-in-the-arse tracker.

He retorts, "You best not be up to anything."

"Well, my girl is sad and shit. She doesn't need an audience foreverything. You lot treat her like she isn't a grown-arse woman." She talks back into my hair loudly, saying, "It's okay, Fawn." Then she drops her voice. "Why is Max upset?"

"I promise to tell you everything after. Please, we have to go now. He might leave before I have a chance to talk to him properly."

"Okay. Okay." She wraps her arm around my shoulders, poking her tongue out at HJ, before steering me into the changing room.

He doesn't follow us in.

Jasmine goes to her locker. Quickly pulling her black hoodie out, she hands it to me. While I pull it on, she eyes me with scepticism. "Your hair is very noticeable."

I pull the hoodie up and tuck my blonde strands into the back and out of sight. "I know."

"Are you going to get in trouble?"

I lie. "I just want to talk to Max."

"Can I play with your cat?"

"Sure."

She half grins. "Can I name her?"

"No." I think about her white fur and multicoloured eyes, her uncertain little manner. "She isn't ready for a name just yet."

Jasmine tilts her head questioningly. Not at all understanding why the kitten that looks a little like me isn't ready to have a name. And I don't waste time leaving through the back door and navigating the staff quarters to get to the unused office, hoping Max is still fuming and eager to act.

Checking the passages, I enter the room quickly and close us inside. I exhale hard. Hurriedly, I turn to Max, who has twisted in his seat, his stoic grey eyes landing on me.

I take a big breath in and say, "I'll go with you."

Dark brows furrow, but he only returns his gaze to his whiskey, ignoring me completely.

I frown, rounding the seat and table to stop in front of him. "Did you hear me? I'll go to the campsite. We can meet them there. But we have to gonow."

"No." Is all I get from him.

My pulse races. "We have to gonowwhile Clay is talking to Carter and Henchman Jeeves thinks I'm talking to Jasmine about how horrible this entire situation is."

Nothing.

He focuses on his untouched glass of whiskey. His jaw is set hard, his anger evident in the pulsing muscles beneath.

"Fucking hell, Max! We don’t have time for this. You were right. You are right. We have to go because they will be searching for me soon and because I can't let Clay choose me,"—I hear my voice losing strength with each word—"because no one has everseenme before, Max. No one has ever looked at me the way Clay looks at me, and if something happens to Xander—" I catch my breath as he glares up from the glass to meet my gaze. "No one ever will again. He'll be gone. He'll never forgive himself. You'll lose both your brothers." My heart shrinks. "He is choosing wrong, Max. He should choose Xander."

He stands, his body forcing me a step backwards purely by his presence, his heat hitting me even from this distance. "I'll keep you safe," he assures, dead serious.

"Keep Xander safe. " Swallowing around my nerves, I nod. "I'llbe fine." I always am. I survive.

"Stay to my left," he states, and we stride back through the staff quarters, hugging the walls, and heading towards a different exit. I hang close to his left with my head cast low.

Trying to keep up.

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