Page 15 of Maxwell

"Why, thank you, darling." He grinned at her and she felt a pang in her heart.

"I’m serious, Maxwell. Shouldn't you take advantage of the services you provide? What if someone gets it in their head they should kidnap you and demand a ransom?

"I’d gladly surrender if it happens to be you." He’d worked the cork out and was pouring the wine into two glasses.

"You‘re making fun of me." She took the glass and gave him an annoyed look.

"Far be it for me to do so." Moving over, he pressed a kiss on her cheek. "I hate people in my space, present company is excluded. Like I said before, I can take care of myself. I lived in my old broken-down car for years and had to learn how to defend myself."

She stared at the powerful forearms and the ripples of muscle and felt a shiver winding its way up her spine. He wasn’t only highly intelligent, he was street smart as well. He had to be in order to survive and make it this far.

He wasn’t above brawling and she’d seen evidence of it when a reporter had caught him having it out with someone who’d gotten in his face. That was one of the things her Dad had pointed out to her as well.

"You like fighting."

He eyed her over the rim of the glass. "I fight when it’s necessary to defend myself."

"You broke that guy's arm."

"He deserved it and a whole lot more. It was a friendly game and he turned it into a war. Besides, he was heckling a couple of women. I wanted to punch his lights out."

She concentrated on her wine. "He brought charges against you."

"They were dropped when he realized he didn’t stand a chance" He put the glass down and reached across to tilt her chin up. "Do you think I’d ever put my hands on you?" He demanded. "Is that what this is about?"

"No."

"Good." He said brusquely. "I’ve never hit a woman and never will. What is it, Alessia?"

"You’re dangerous." She shook her head and took a breath. "That's not the word-"

"That's precisely the word." He said grimly, settling back against the chair. "I’m someone people do not mess with. I had a frigging hard life, where I had to fight for everything I own. At one time, for years, I had to fight to get food in my belly.

The winter was so cold and the summer sun felt as if it was melting the skin off my bones. I was never warm enough, never cool enough, and I had to do things to survive."

His mouth twisted bitterly. "At one point I was so cold I accepted the invitation of a woman old enough to be my mother to come in out of the cold and stay with her.

The price? She was lonely and hard up and wanted me to screw her as payment for staying at her place. I didn’t like her like that, but I was so grateful that I gave her what she wanted."

She felt the sickness in the pit of her stomach and the unreasonable jealousy and horror inside her chest. "How long?"

"From November to March. By that time, she wanted more than my cock. She wanted me to live with her on a permanent basis. Staying with her had its advantages. I was able to save enough to buy myself a tiny security firm."

She got up and went to check on the shrimp salad she’d left to cool in the fridge. She was so mired down with misery that she hadn’t heard him come up behind her.

Turning her to face him, he gave her a hard look. "You’re disgusted.

"No. I-" She tried to step away, but he held on tight.

"At least have the guts to say what you think."

She bristled. "You used her."

"We used each other. She got good sex and I got a place to lay my head. Win - win."

"I hate you." She whispered, the tears starting. "How can you be so crude?"

"Because that is what I am." He shook her. "I didn’t have the pretty life you did, with Daddy and Mommy to take care of all your needs. I had to fight and did what I had to in order to survive. If that sickens you-"

---