Maxim (Carolina Reapers 10)

Fiona chuckled. “Even better when they come with a baby,” she teased, and we laughed some more.

God, I’d needed this. It had been a long couple of months. I was suddenly so glad Maxim had convinced me to come. I glanced back at him, not at all startled when I found his eyes on me. I could probably thank the gin for that, but I raised my glass and then winked at him. His eyes flared wide and a grin shaped his lips before I turned around and focused on the girls again.

“Have you decided what you’re going to wear?” Bristol asked Fiona, and I tilted my head as I came back into their conversation.

“I think I’m going with the dark red,” she answered.

“That’s a stunning piece,” Bristol said, then looked to me. “You’re going to the gala in May, right?”

“I think Maxim mentioned it,” I said, trying to remember what exactly he’d said about it. After some thought, I was pretty sure he’d merely mentioned it in passing. Like between lunch and dinner and basically just saying he was going. Not an invitation. “But no, I wasn’t invited or anything.”

“That can’t be right,” Bristol said. “I was with Persephone the other day and was certain your name was on the guest list.”

Shock rippled through me, but it quickly danced right off into the pleasant buzzed-land I lived in right now. “Well, either way,” I said, motioning down to myself before taking another drink. “They don’t really make couture gowns in my size.”

“That’s not true for every designer,” Bristol said, but let the subject drop when I took another drink.

It wasn’t that I was opposed to wearing form-fitting clothes, I just wasn’t the girl who ran off to billionaire galas every other weekend. That was Maxim’s life, not mine.

“It’s going to be the biggest event of the year,” Fiona said, then laughed. “I heard the last time the Reapers had a party this big, Persephone and Cannon accidentally got married.”

I laughed so hard I nearly spit out my drink. “That must’ve been some accident,” I said, seeing as how they were still very happily married.

“Right?” Bristol grinned, then raised her glass again. “To the Reapers.”

Fiona and I echoed her sentiment, then drained our glasses.

A few hours and a few drinks—some of them being water—later, I felt an intense warmth at my back. I didn’t need to turn around to know who stood behind me, I could feel Maxim like he was a sixth sense only my body picked up on.

“Yes?” I asked, spinning around on the barstool.

Wow. I. Was. Drunk.

Whoops.

Maxim cut a playfully chiding look to Fiona and Bristol, who were equally drunk and equally giggly. “Enjoying yourselves, ladies?”

We all aggressively agreed, and Briggs and Brogan laughed as they urged their partners to come with them.

“Is the party over?” I asked after saying thanks and goodbye to the girls.

“Afraid so,” Maxim said, extending his hand for mine.

I slipped mine into his effortlessly, silently blaming the gin for the lack of hesitance I normally used around him. I slid off the barstool, a little wobbly on my feet, but quickly righted myself.

“Whoa there,” Maxim said, tugging me toward him. He helped balance me, tucking me into his side as we walked out of Scythe, and before I knew it I was safely buckled into his car and we were heading back toward his house.

“Did you have fun?” I asked as we neared his house, my tongue loose and my senses scattered.

I felt good though.

Relaxed. Excited. Silly. Brave.

“Me?” he asked, as if I hadn’t posed the question clearly.

Had I not?

I willed my mind to sharpen, but it didn’t really comply. Damn gin.

“Yeah,” I said. “Did you have a good time with your teammates?”

Maxim laughed—apparently something was funny about the question—as he pulled into his driveway. “Yeah,” he finally answered as he parked the car. “It’s always a good time hanging with the guys.”

“Okay,” I said as he held the door open for me. He insisted on keeping hold of my hand as we walked inside even though I was much steadier on my feet now. “So, not drinking at a Reaper bar with your friends is one way you relax,” I said, kicking off my shoes in his hall closet before walking barefoot toward my room.

The floor tilted, the traitor, and I smacked into the wall. I paused for a second, and suddenly Maxim was right there, his arms around my waist as he held me flush against his body.

“You never drink that much,” he said, his mouth so close to mine I could hardly breathe.

“No,” I said. “But it’s been a long few weeks. I wanted to let loose. Is that bad?” I asked, all at once worried I’d made some mistake. “It’s probably bad. Maybe I should’ve—”

“No way, Evie,” he said, grinning down at me. “It’s not bad at all. You deserve to have fun. I just know you’re going to be hurting tomorrow.”