Page 15 of One Weekend in Vienna

And I’m afraid I could fall.

Being with Max felt good. Too good. Like my heart grew three sizes in the space of one night, and now I don’t know what to do with it.

My phone buzzes again, pulling me back. I grab it and rush to the bathroom, closing the door softly behind me before answering. “Hey, Felix.”

“Anna? Why do you sound so weird?” His voice is sharp, suspicious. I glance at myself in the mirror—my hair is a mess, my face flushed—and cringe.

“I’m fine, you just woke me up,” I say quickly, faking a yawn.

“Are you okay? You’re always up early.”

Not when I’ve been up all night.“I’m fine, just busy on that work thing.”

Felix snorts. “Right, the Max Carter show. Is Luxx treating him like a king?”

“Something like that,” I say carefully, trying to keep my voice down.

“He’s not bothering you, is he? That guy will do anything to get under my skin. And he’ll fuck anything that smiles inhis direction, so warn your friends. I don’t see the appeal, but women line up for that guy, just so he can take them down.”

Nausea rolls in my belly, and I lean a hip against the bathroom counter. “You’re not exactly celibate, Felix.” My voice is sharper than I intended, and I bite my lip.

“Anya? Why would you defend him?”

“I’m not… just, you’re all hockey players, right? It comes with the territory I guess.” I exhale, trying to shake off my discomfort. “Anyway, what’s up?”

“You tell me,” Felix says. “You haven’t answered my texts. I’ve been trying to figure out Christmas plans, but you’re impossible to pin down. Should I fly to Vienna, or are you coming here? You know we always do this together.”

Guilt twists in my chest. Since our parents died, Christmas has always been our thing—just the two of us, figuring it out together. And here I am, hiding in a hotel bathroom after spending the night with his worst enemy.

“I don’t know yet,” I say, trying to sound casual. “Work’s been crazy.”

“I imagine, but you only have to put up with that asshole for another couple of days. You’re so good at what you do—you’ll get the promotion. Just... breathe. And stay as far away from Max Walker as you can.”

I don’t know how I feel about the reminder that Max will be leaving in a couple of days. I definitely can’t say anything though – Felix lost his mind when he heard my company would be working with Max on this campaign. I deliberately steer the conversation back to him. “How are things with you?”

“Changing the subject, I see,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice. “Look, you’re planning on moving back to the States when your promotion comes through, right?”

I tap my fingers on the counter. “Yeah, it’s with the North American branch of the company. So, I can base myself there.” Ilove Vienna, and I’ll miss Austria, but with our parents gone and Felix playing in the NHL, I’d prefer to be near him, even with his busy schedule.

“So why don’t you come here for Christmas? You get more time off than I do, and I’ll have a home game pretty close to Christmas Eve. Travel then is terrible, so if it’s not a big deal…”

“I don’t mind.” I make a mental note to book my flight. “I guess I can even look for an apartment while I’m there.”

“See, that’s the mindset you need to be in – pretend you’ve already got the job.” We chat for a few more minutes and he gives me a list of his favorite chocolate and biscuits to bring from Vienna for the kids’ hockey team he coaches.

“Alright, I’ve got to get to practice. Stay away from Max Walker.”

“I’ve barely seen him.” I force a laugh, the guilt in my chest threatening to crush me. “I’ll let you know as soon as I book my ticket.”

We say our goodbyes, and I hang up, staring at my reflection. My cheeks are flushed, my hair’s a mess, and my heart... my heart feels like it’s being pulled in two directions.

When I step back into the room, the sight of Max stops me cold. He’s sitting up against the headboard, the blankets pooled around his waist, his bare chest on full display. He looks like he belongs in a magazine—broad shoulders, defined muscles, a few faint scars that only make him more ruggedly perfect. His hair is tousled, and his lips curve into a slow, lazy smile when he sees me.

“Morning,” he says, his voice rough with sleep.

My stomach does a flip, and I immediately hate myself for it. I hate how good he looks and how I want to crawl into those strong arms, despite the call I just had with my brother.

“Morning,” I mumble, avoiding his eyes.

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