Chapter 15
By the time Max had arrived at the Dubois estate, an hour had passed. He’d had a devil of a time convincing his mother and Éloïse to take their limo home without him. Huimin had flared up and insisted that he forget this foolishness with that other woman and come home with them. She’d even said that Éloïse had come to the gala hoping that she and Max could have some quiet time together and perhaps share a few dances.
He’d retorted that between the two women, they had done enough damage for one evening. After he’d texted his driver strict instructions to take the two women home, he’d called for a car.
And now, there he was, outside the iron gates of the large estate, which, considering its nicely appointed grounds and clever lighting, should look like a fairytale, but which tonight looked as gloomy as his mood.
He had been arguing with the security officers at the gate, who insisted that Mademoiselle Trinidad was not there, but he knew damn well they were lying. It was close to midnight; where else would she be?
His tenth call to Sienna was declined, and he was so furious that if he could have snapped his phone in two with his bare hands, he would have.
One of the officers took a call on his walkie-talkie, glanced at Max, and nodded. He felt his heart leap. She’d changed her mind! Then the officer explained mildly that the gentleman was invited to return the next morning at nine.
He groaned. He wanted to see hernow, but if that was all she was willing to grant him, it would have to do. Perhaps she would have calmed down enough to talk it out. He hoped there was some way he could undo the damage.
The night he spent was the kind he wanted never to repeat. He spent half many sleepless hours consoling himself that it was right and fitting that their relationship would have ended, and the other half plotting and scheming ways to get Sienna back. He had to!
He arrived a half hour early, not even caring that he looked too eager. Despite the hour, he was ushered into one of the great rooms by the butler, and politely asked to wait.
Wait, he did.
Twenty minutes passed, and then forty-five. Then an hour. There was no doubt in his mind that it was deliberate. Soften him up. Punish him. Maybe he deserved it.
The door opened, and in walked a group of women, all well-dressed, grim, looking ready for battle. Like warrior heroines, eager to draw blood. All they were missing were breastplates and swords.
His mind raced to place faces with names of the women he’d met briefly before. Jacyn, Alex’s wife. She was the one who had adopted the baby boy, and the reason Sienna was here in France. Naisha, the new countess, had been at the lakeside that day with her step daughter and two children.
Sienna’s ex-boss, Chantelle Clark-Spencer, and the wife of his tattoo artist followed. Next to enter the room was Shaundra Michiels. Wife of Nathanael Michiels, mother to Benji and sister to the man who dared to go on a date withhisSienna. Last night after Sienna had bounded away, he’d caught a glance of her friends with their husbands and made the connections.
None one of them cracked a smile in his direction.
He made an effort to remain polite. “Mesdames, bonjour.I’m here for Sienna.”
The countess answered shortly. “We know you are, but we would like a word with you first. Have a seat.”
It wasn’t a polite request. It was an order. Max sat. It took a lot of effort not to drop his gaze. These women clearly meant business, and he hated how defensive that made him feel.
“I want to tell you something,” Jacyn began. “Sienna and I go back years. Since we were just girls, understand?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “And that means I have her back. Always.”
She tilted her head in the direction of the other three. “These women all owe one thing or another to Sienna. There has never been a time in which she hasn’t come through for them—or me.” There was a cold, cruel quirk on her lips. “We don’t take kindly to men who hurt our girl.”
“I would never hurt—” he began.
Naisha’s voice sliced in. “You already have! How could you do this? How could you lead her on like this? You’ve lied to her about a lot of things, apparently. She still thinks you’re simply a bartender.”
He began to protest that he had never led her on and that he was simply a bartender, but that would be a lie. There was so much he could have said to her, should have early on, as soon as it was beginning to look as if things were getting serious. Yet, he had said nothing. His words died in his throat.
The fourth woman, Shaundra, snorted. “Thought so.”
Jacyn, Sienna’s best friend, spoke again. “We just want you to understand one thing, Maxim Lavigne. Hurting Sienna means hurting us!” She turned to the other women. “Do you think we should get Juneau to break two of his fingers? Maybe cut off his tongue?”
He wondered briefly how serious they were, and considering how close Sienna was to her friends, he guessed they were very serious.
He hastened to reassure them, not so much for his own safety, but because he wanted her friends to understand that he was not trifling with Sienna. “I care about her. I never wanted to hurt her. If only you’ll ask her to come downstairs and see me—”
Jacyn smirked. Max didn’t like it. “Did I miss a joke?” he asked, his chest filling up with dread.
The sound of new arrivals made everyone turn their heads. Four men. Max recognized the Dubois brothers immediately. The third man was Dustin, his tattoo artist.