Page 44 of BillionHeir
“Are you hungry?” he asks, gesturing to the food. “This is my personally curated spread. It has anything you could want.”
“It is amazing!” I exclaim as I move to examine the table's contents in depth. “This is honestly my favorite kind of meal. Everything looks so delicious, and this way I can have a little bit of everything.”
A loud ‘pop’ startles me as Maxwell uncorks a bottle of wine, carefully pouring us each a glass. The therapy for his arm is going so well that he is not going to need me too much longer.
Rather than wondering what I am going to do when I no longer have a job, I push those thoughts to the back of my mind. Tonight, I am just going to focus on the present. After the day we have had together, I don’t want to think about anything that might bring my mood down.
Maxwell offers me the glass and I happily take it. He lifts his own glass into the air as his eyes lock with mine.
“To new beginnings.”
“Cheers,” I say, our eyes holding contact as we sip the deep red wine. The dry taste of cherry and spice dances across my tongue, and I instantly recognize it as a cabernet sauvignon, one of my favorites. “It is delicious.”
Maxwell launches into a fascinating story about the winery where the wine was made in France. He describes how idyllic itwas when he toured the facility and met the owners. I can only imagine how wonderful it must be there. I have never experienced so much fortune and privilege in my whole life.
Maxwell is an enigma of a man. Rich and spoiled? Absolutely. But he is also generous, down to earth, and genuine in the way he cares for the people around him. There is so much more to him than the bad attitude I experienced when I first met him.
“What?” he asks, pausing his story about French cuisine to study me.
I must have been staring. I smile in spite of myself.
“I was just thinking about how far we have come.”
Maxwell pauses at the change in topic, but only for a brief moment before he regains his bearings.
“We have, haven’t we.” He takes a sip of his wine before continuing. “How do you feel about the shift?”
I can tell that he is watching me carefully even as I avoid his eyes, grabbing a plate to busy myself as I formulate my answer.
“I think I quite like it, actually.” I quickly flick my eyes up to his and catch a satisfied smirk before I look back down at the buffet of expensive crudité. I can feel the blush coming up on my cheeks, and I wish that my face wasn’t so damn responsive to my thoughts.
“I know I do,” he says, stepping up next to me as his hand gently slides down to rest at the small of my back. I tip my faceup to his, expecting a kiss. But instead, he grabs a plate and steps away, leaving me standing there feeling foolish.
My cheeks heat for the second time as I look back down at the food in front of me. I busy myself gathering an assortment of my favorites as well as a few things that I have never had before.
“It all looks so fab,” I say as I finish.
Maxwell has finished before me and settled down on the mattress, setting his plate on the wooden tray. The whole scene is so picturesque I am almost certain I have seen something like this on a Pinterest board somewhere.
The fact that he had all of this done for me makes me feel like a princess in a fairytale. I have never had anyone do anything this thoughtful for me. In previous relationships, I was lucky if the guy would take me out to a mediocre restaurant before expecting some kind of sexual favor in return. Being single is so overrated these days.
“I am glad you like it,” Maxwell says as I settle down next to him. We are facing the ocean, and the unobstructed view of the beach and the ocean is usually idyllic, but right now, it is almost terrifying. From this spot in the house, we are so close to the sea that it is like we have front row seats to the turbulent storm.
“Storms like this used to terrify me before I moved here to the states,” I say. “Right after I moved here for college, a terrible hurricane hit the coast. I was so scared. Jenna grew up on theEast Coast, so she was experienced and calm. I must have seemed like such a scaredy cat, but the kind person that she is, she invited me to sleep in bed with her. We weathered the hurricane together, and after that, we were the best of friends. I eventually learned to appreciate the strength and power of these storms.”
As if on cue, a massive bolt of lightning arcs down to the white-capped waves. The bright flash of light is immediately followed by a loud clap of thunder. I jump, instinctively moving closer to Maxwell, even though I know we are safe inside the house.
He seems completely unbothered as he reaches out a hand to my shoulder with a soothing gesture. His touch instantly relaxes me.
“I know what you mean. As a kid, I can remember a few storms that had me crawling into my parents’ bed,” he confesses as the weather continues to put on a show for us. “I grew out of that, but I wasn’t sure how I would feel about them after the accident.”
It suddenly dawns on me that this is his first real storm since the helicopter crash.
“Max, I feel so daft. I didn’t even think about how hard this must be on you,” I say, reaching out to place my hand over his.
He looks at me gratefully, twisting his hand in mine so that our fingers are intertwined before looking back out the window at the violent ocean.
“I thought I might be anxious, but with you here beside me, it hasn’t been that bad. In fact, I would say it has been quite enjoyable.”
