She, the Kingdom (She #1)(39)

“I make it my business to know. I have your medical information, Morgan. How could you think I’d be unaware of your birthday?”

“I guess I just didn’t realize you’d… these are gorgeous. What are the purple ones? Not roses.”

“Lisianthus.” He pointed to the orange blooms. “Snapdragons. The reds are tulips.”

“And the pink?”

“Magenta. I believe they’re…” He studied them for a moment. “Sweet William. And the green leafy ones there are Ruscus.”

I raised one eyebrow. “How do you know? I’ve never heard of Sweet William.”

He leaned on the counter with his elbow, pleased at my fawning over each petal. “Our housekeeper, Simone, was a florist before she came to us. She was obsessed with keeping fresh flowers in the house, and talked about them incessantly.” He watched me for a moment. “You like them?”

“I love them. They’re stunning. Thank you. It wasn’t necessary, but I love them.” I bent down to get an empty vase from under the sink. I filled it half full of water, but paused when I noticed Max’s face. “What?”

“Do you have any citrus soda?” he asked.

“I think the kids still have a few cans of 7Up in the cabinet. Why?”

“They’ll stay fresher longer if you add three-to-one ratio of water to soda, and then a few drops of bleach.”

“Bleach?”

“The flowers also need sugar to live, but the mixture breeds bacteria. A few drops of bleach will kill the bacteria without harming the flowers.”

I made a high-pitched huh sound, and then turned to search my cabinets for a can of soda. “Found it!”

“I’ll get the bleach,” Max said, passing me to search the laundry room.

We worked to get the mixture just right—according to Max—and then the flowers became the centerpiece of my dining table. “I don’t think I’ve ever gotten flowers so beautiful.”

Max offered a side hug, and kissed my temple. “You’re welcome. You deserve much more.”

My face fell. The news I was holding would break his heart, and he was in such a good mood.

“What is it?” Max asked.

I opened my mouth to speak, but the doorbell rang again. I peered out the dining window curtains to see a green van parked in the street. Max opened the door, and a man was holding a vase full of rainbow-colored roses. There were so many, the delivery man’s face was obscured. “Delivery for Ms. Morgan Clarke?”

“Oh!” I took the flowers from him, walking across the room to set them on the island.

Max tipped the man, and he left without another word.

A white card was tucked between the teeth of a plastic pitchfork-shaped holder within the flowers.

“You’re very popular today,” Max said.

I read the small card, and then slid the corner of it beneath the base of the tall, blue vase.

Max raised an eyebrow. “Must I ask?”

I cleared my throat. “They’re from Colton.”

Max’s cheeks flushed red, and he stood up straight. “Colton the electrician?”

I nodded. Fuck. Fuck, f*ck, f*ck.

“Why would Colton send you flowers?”

“Because it’s my birthday, I assume.”

“Morgan,” he chided.

“I went out with Amelia last night. He was there. We danced.” I shrunk under Max’s glare. “It was fun.”

“You were out with him before I saw you?”

“I wasn’t out with him. I was out with Amelia.”

He shoved his hands in his pockets, walked away, and then returned. He pressed his finger against the Formica. “You aren’t telling me everything.”

“He asked me to dinner.”

“And?”

“I said yes.”

Max clenched his teeth. “The contract specifically states—”

“No intimacy. I’m aware. It doesn’t say I can’t date.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Dating Colton?”

“It’s just dinner,” I snapped. My patience was wearing thin, and I could feel myself readying for a fight.

“You can’t go,” he said, his tone final.

I narrowed my eyes. “I didn’t ask you. I follow the rules of the contract. Dinner with a friend is perfectly acceptable.”

“Not with him,” he said, jabbing his finger into the Formica.

“You don’t get to tell me what I can do in my spare time. I realize you’re used to everyone bowing to your every whim, but my commitment to you is between the hours of ten PM and six AM, Sunday through Thursday nights. What I do on Friday and Saturday nights is my business.”

He pointed to the apex of my thighs. “That’s mine. No one else is allowed to go anywhere near you. How are you going to explain that to him after several dates, Morgan?”

“That’s also none of your business.”

“It’s every bit my god damn business!” he yelled. “You haven’t had a date in years, and suddenly, when I find you, this boy comes sniffing around? It’s absurd!”

I glared at him, and he stood before me, neither of us willing to back down.

“Your name might have king in it, but you don’t own me,” I seethed.