Page 46 of Destined To Fall

“My son not doing it for you?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake.“Got something you want to get off your chest, Max? Because by all means, what I do on my time is completely up for discussion.”I throw over my shoulder and fight not to grind my teeth.

“Jeremy came barreling into my office, demanding to know what was going on.”

“And?”

“And what did you tell him?”

“Oh, you know, every dirty detail.”

“What?”

My jaw clenches, and my frustration sizzles.“I didn’t tell him a damn thing, Maxwell. What part of my profession has given you any indication I’m incapable of discretion or keeping my damn mouth shut? He does, however, have some very interesting theories he came up with all on his own.”

“You mean he doesn’t know what you do? He isn’t…paying you?”

I bite back a laugh.“No. I doubt he could afford me. Not to mention I get the feeling it would be beneath him.”

We reach the door, and I wait while Max knocks twice, pauses a beat, and then knocks three more times.Really? That’s their secret knock?

“So, what? You’re sleeping with him for free? Getting your kicks with a younger man?”

I want to laugh and scream at that.“Nothing comes for free, Maxwell. Everything has a price.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Are you or aren’t you sleeping with my son?”

“It means just that. And who I do or don’t fuck is none of your business.”

“He’s my son. You made it my business.”

“So I’m good enough for you toworkwith, but not your son? That’s rich, Max, really rich. And for your information, I’m only thirty-one. That’s hardly scandalous, and since when does his business concern you? From what I’ve gathered, you’re not close, like at all.”

The door opens, some beefy, bald dude on the other side. Whatever Max’s response was going to be dies on his tongue.

“Head straight, then turn right. Door at the end,” is all the beefy, bald dude says before he steps aside, letting us enter.

“You know nothing about my family,” Max bites out in my ear.

“And that’s exactly how I plan to keep it.”

Max scoffs at that.

“You’re a client, no more.”

“So you’ll make snap judgments about my relationship with my son and pretend you know everything?”

“Pot, kettle, Maxwell.”

“I made a logical conclusion.”

“You did no such thing. You pay me, that’s it. I do my thing and leave. The end.”

“And what about Jeremy?”

“Jesus, Max. He thinks I’m after his job or sleeping with his father—probably both. It’s safe to say that ship has sailed. Hell, the ship didn’t even dock. I’m nothing to him. You’re making an anthill into a whole fucking island. Drop it.”

“Fine.”

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