Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss - Season 2

Ch. 7: Dinner in Little Italy

I'm impressed again with how much smoother traveling is when you fly by private jet. Immediately after we land we're in a limo, headed for Manhattan.

Max is completely ignoring me. He never returned to his seat on the flight, and he's been on his phone since we got into the limo.

The sun shining in through the car window reflects off my bracelet, and I study the intricate pattern of joined hands, crown, and heart. Why is this gift so important to Max? I honestly thought returning it to him was the right thing to do. His reaction was so unexpected.

When Max gave me the bracelet, he explained that its design was a part of his heritage from his mother's side of the family. Celtic. That it symbolizes loyalty and friendship. I do a quick search on my phone and discover that the Claddagh symbol means a little more than that.

It also signifies love. And particularly romantic love.

Is that why Max is so angry? Does he feel like by returning the bracelet I'm throwing his feelings for me back in his face? I know I was falling for Max. To be brutally honest with myself, I'd already fallen.

Is it possible that Max had also truly fallen for me?

The more I've gotten to know him, the less I feel I understand him.

And the more I wish things could be different.

When we arrive at the luxury hotel overlooking Times Square, it's no surprise that we're booked into a concierge level premier suite.

With one bedroom and a king size bed.

We're standing in the middle of that bedroom right now, and Max has hung up his suit bag and other items in the closet. I've not started unpacking anything yet.

I give Max a pointed look after Gabe leaves for his room, which is nearby on the same floor.

"Don't act so surprised that we'll be sharing a bed," Max says. "I made the reservation last week."

"Reservations can be changed," I point out.

"This one won't be."

"What if I would rather not sleep in the same bed with you?"

His jaw tightens. "Then that's your bad luck because I'm not getting you a separate room in the hotel."

I jut out my own chin. His tone bordered on arrogance, and I'm annoyed that he apparently has no clue how difficult this situation is for me.

"Then I'll just call down to the front desk and arrange for my own room and pay for it myself," I tell him.

"You absolutely will not."

Max walks over and faces me, standing so close I have the urge to step back. But I don't. I tilt my head to look up at him. His voice is low, measured.

"Would you prefer to ward off Gino's advances all weekend?" he asks me. "Gino has a fondness for young, smart, beautiful women. And he's not accustomed to them saying no."

My eyes widen as Max continues.

"I've made it absolutely clear that you belong to me."

He's not touching me, but our bodies are so close I can feel the heat radiating off him, smell the pricey cologne that he always wears, mingled with the clean scent of his skin. Only a fraction of an inch separates us, and I want more than anything to close that gap and press my lips against his, wrap my arms around that strong, lean body and let his lips and his hands make me forget all the reasons we can't be together. The electric charge passing between us is so intense I feel my body trembling.