I used her card to purchase a plane ticket to Dallas, and booked myself a nice suite in the Fleetwood Mansions of Tortoise Creek. A cool one grand a night, but surely, my only sister would not want me sleeping in a dumpster while I visited my family.
Hera knew as well as I did that I refused to stay at my parents’ house. I didn’t feel welcome there, and for a good reason. My parents always berated me—about my clothes, my manners, my walk, my grades. But even if they hadn’t, I simply couldn’t feel safe. Not after what happened there the first time.
Or the second time.
Or the third.
Anyway. So here we were.
I heard Max walk through the door and exchange some words with Ransom and felt a deep sense of relief. I’d been feeling like a caged animal these last few days. Claustrophobia closed in on me.
I wondered if the meat in Ransom’s closet had already started decomposing. I hoped so. Maybe it would remind him of his rotten soul.
A few minutes after I heard one of my cars drive off—Ransom felt very comfortable using my things—the door to my room was unlocked.
“Decent?” he calledandknocked.
“Sure.”
Max appeared in front of me. He tipped an imaginary hat down, all chivalry and sugar.
“Cinderella.”
“Prince Charming.” I stood taller, my tone several notches colder. Nice or not, Max was still a man and I needed to remember that. “You’re late, as always.”
“Want me to accompany you anywhere?” He leaned one shoulder against the doorframe. Clearly, he was happy to see me, and it made me feel uneasy. I was not used to people genuinely liking me.
“Didn’t you hear?” I grimaced. “The tyrant forbade me to leave the house today.”
“That true?” He rubbed his upper lip. He was blushing. Again.
“Didn’t he say?” A lesser woman would exploit Max’s obvious disorientation next to her to her advantage.
“Must’ve forgotten. Man, I dropped the ball on that one.”
Rolling my eyes, I fell back into a heap of silky sheets. “I’m so over your boss.”
“He means well.” Max winced. “How ’bout a movie? I’m not supposed to be doing recreational stuff on duty, but…”
“Only if I get to choose.”
“You’re going to choose something super girly, huh?” He rubbed his chin.
“Hello. Hi. It’s me. Duh.”
But once we settled in the living room, we opted for the new James Bond installment. Max wanted to see the action and pretty women, and I wanted to see Daniel Craig existing, just in general. We shared a popcorn bowl and two cans of diet soda. I convinced myself to take a deep breath and enjoy the moment. Forget about Ransom. Which could have been easier, had Ransom not burst into the house an hour after the movie started, sweaty andshirtless.
The shirtless part was really tragic, because he looked so incomparably hot next to Daniel Craig. Long and lithe and muscular. The ridges of his six-pack were glistening with his sweat. He must’ve been running. I stared at him, open-mouthed. I didn’t even care that I was gawking. Surely, he was used to it.
“What’re you doing?” he demanded, parking his hands on his narrow waist. Even hisfingernailswere perfect. Square and clean and…focus, Hal. Focus.
“Staring at the worst human alive, willing him to burst into flames on the spot?” I batted my lashes angelically.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” Ransom barked.
Oh.
Max stood up. His face looked like it was about to explode. “Sir.”