Crowned by Fate (Crowned 2)

Max nods, the edges of his eyes crinkling in worry. “I didn’t want to tell you. He did.”

I try hard to ignore the pain that shoots through my chest. The day I got locked up? “Asshole.” Why would he do that to me after everything we fought for to get to where we were. Why did he fight so hard for us when all he was going to do was tap out?

“Indeed.” Max leans farther forward, his hand coming to mine. “You’re no longer married, Isa.” I search his features, his hand still on mine. I won’t think too much into the PDA, or even the unmistakable eye contact, or the fact that my body seems to like it when he’s around me.

“What do you want from me, Max?” I ask through a whisper, though I’m almost certain I know the answer.

He cranks his head. “I think you know.”

I lick my lips. “True.” My palms twitch, slicked with sweat. I swipe them over my legs to get them dry. “I just—”

Max shakes his head. “I realize this is very one-sided, Isa. I’ve known you for months, whereas you have only just met me.”

I wince. I didn’t want to feel this way about Max, but I’d be lying if I said that I didn’t. He is beautiful, caring, and had just enough edge to bring out my dark side, but there was something wrong.

He still wasn’t Bryant.

And until I saw him, I couldn’t promise anything to Max. Period. Bryant may have walked away from me, but I was crazy enough to chase him anyway. At least for answers.

“Give me a few?” I ask, hoping he would understand. I’m not sure how we managed to go from one point to this one, and the more I thought into it, the more I found it strange. So I stopped thinking. I didn’t need any more confusion inside my head.

His shoulders fell slightly. “Always.”

I tip my glass back and swipe the residue from my lips. “You know, a long time ago, I would have climbed onto your lap willingly. I was a reckless woman and a borderline nympho.” I snort, tucking my hair behind my ear. “Actually, not borderline. I was—or—” My eyes meet his. “Am a nympho.”

Max laughs, his head tilting back before his eyes come back to mine. They’re hungry. Starved. As if he’s been fasting for thirty days and I’m the first meal he’s seen. “Are you? Or have you just not been fucked right?”

I almost choke on my drink. Not because of the crassness, but of how wrong he is. Not only has Bryant violently fucked me into a coma—amongst other things—but Devon wasn’t half bad either.

I leave it. Not wanting to damage his ego.

I went to bed not long after that, tired and overwhelmed from the travel and daily revelations. I have to admit, I feel lighter. But I also know that the storm hasn’t even started. This was the calm before it. It was the universe warning me that nothing worth living ever comes easy.

My heart aches when I think of Bryant, because in my head, it was still fresh. I fell in love with him. We had our happily ever after and our story was supposed to continue between the two of us, without the words ‘The End’ written in cursive.

Only that wasn’t the case.

The next morning, I’m in the kitchen pouring a mug of hot coffee when Max strolls in, wearing dark sweats. His hair is messy and his beard scruffy. He’s wearing no shirt and his abs are on full display. They’re not as defined or shredded as Bryant’s—not even close—but he was still solid. Why the fuck am I comparing the two?

“Uh,” I mumble through my stupor. “Coffee?” I need to pull myself together.

“Sure.” He runs his hand through his hair, reaching for something in the fridge as his muscles contract. My mouth dries. Why was I becoming more attracted to him?

I need to see Bryant. For whatever reason, I feel like I owe it to him to beat his ass before I even think about beating it up on someone else’s dick.

I begin stirring creamer through my coffee. Enough for my coffee to look more like toffee. Sweet but a touch bitter, just like me. “I’m going to Royal Enterprise today. I need to see him.”

Max freezes before turning around to face me. His features are hard, as if he doesn’t understand why I would do that. “Why?”

I take a sip of my hot coffee, hoping it will gain some time for me to think of a valid excuse. “I need to, Max.” Should have taken longer.

He seems to think over my words while shuffling to the table, dropping down onto one of the white leather chairs. His big, burly shoulders lift slightly. “Then you do what you got to do, Isa.”