Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss - Season 2

Ch. 31: Frustration

I'm standing outside with Max. My grandfather carried my mother up to bed. She was exhausted, physically and emotionally, and it seems like when Max said he forgave her, everything in her just relaxed, went limp.

But what did he forgive her for?

Gabe and Martina are in the golf cart, giving us a little space.

"I can't thank you enough for finding her, bringing her home safe."

He looks at me. He seems tense, almost annoyed.

"He hasn't accepted it, has he?"

"What, her condition?"

"Yes, her condition. If he had, he'd have put an alarm on the damn door. Does he realize she could have stepped in front of a car? Fallen off a seawall?"

"I think he realizes that now."

I touch his arm. "You said you forgave her. Max, what was that all about?"

He looks away. "You can't take too seriously anything a person with dementia says. They don't live in reality."

"She doesn't live in reality now, but her memories of the past seem pretty clear."

"Don't kid yourself," Max says. "Before long she won't even remember her own name."

Her name.

"Why did you call her Aunt Tricia?"

He looks back at me, a slightly perplexed look on his face. "Did I?" He gives a short laugh. "I didn't even realize I did that." He shakes his head.

"She knew you," I tell him as he seems about to turn away. "What was she talking about? What did you forgive her for?"

His face has closed down now, his expression unreadable.

"Leave it alone, Hadley," he says. "Sometimes it's better if the past just stays in the past."

"Max -" I grab his arm.

"I have to go," he says, lifting my hand from his arm, disentangling himself physically and emotionally from me. It's like a wall slid down between us.

"I have meetings tomorrow morning," he says.

"And I have to be in court."

"Get some sleep, Hadley." He leans closer and for a moment I hold my breath, my heart pounding, as I think he's going to kiss me. I'm conscious of the fact that I don't have a bra on, and my nipples have a mind of their own, going erect against the fabric of my thin t-shirt.

We're standing so close, and I tilt my head slightly toward him.

Then something changes and he pulls back, turning and going over to the golf cart while I just stand there.

"I'll see you Saturday," he says.

That's right. Saturday is the event at the art gallery. Maybe I'll have a chance to get some information out of him then. Unfortunately Max is at least as stubborn as I am. When he says something, he typically means it, and for some reason he seems determined to keep the past in the past.

After they pull away, I walk slowly back into the house, close and lock the door, and head upstairs.

Everything is quiet. I gently test the knob on my grandparents' bedroom as I walk past. Good. The door is locked.

I can't imagine I'll be able to go to sleep, with everything that's going through my mind.

But exhaustion takes over and I drift off almost as soon as my head touches the pillow.