She, the Kingdom (She #1)(40)

He took a step closer, and I could feel his breath on my face. “As long as you’re under contract, I am the king. And you’re my kingdom.”

“Thank you for the flowers. I’ll see you tomorrow night. Until then, stay the hell away from my house.” I turned to finish putting up the groceries, and Max blinked. His anger seemed to melt away.

“Morgan…”

“Get out.”

“Morgan, please. I shouldn’t have upset you on your birthday.” He looked down. “That was incredibly insensitive of me. Let’s sit down and have a rational conversation.”

“I said get out.” I emphasized each word.

Max blew out a breath, and then nodded. He walked to the door and twisted the knob, pausing first. “Morgan? If he… if he touches any part of your body that belongs to me, the contract is null and void, and I’ll make sure you never work in this town again.”

He slammed the door behind him, and I threw an apple in his general direction. It bounced off the wood and fell to the floor. I backed up to the refrigerator, and then slowly slid down until my backside was against the hard linoleum. We might have had a few special moments, but Max Kingston was a spoiled child, and I was furious that I had let myself believe otherwise.

Someone knocked on the door, and I called for them to come in, not caring who it was.

“Morgan?” Colton called, shutting the door behind him. “You got ‘em,” he said, approaching the flowers he’d bought. When he saw me sitting on the floor, he crouched down and slid over to me on his knees. “Jesus, are you all right?”

I nodded.

He scanned my face, and then shook his head. “You don’t look all right.” The concern on his face made me tear up. “Is it the flowers? I’m comin’ on too strong.” He sat back on his knees, looking defeated. “Pete told me to take it easy, but hell, it’s your birthday, and I thought—”

“It’s not the flowers,” I said. “Max was here a little bit ago. He doesn’t think it’s a good idea for us to go out Friday. Or at all.”

Colton let the news simmer. “You told him I understand the rules?”

“He didn’t really give me a chance to explain. He doesn’t want to take the chance. Our agreement is important to him.”

“Yeah, I mean,” he sighed, “I can see how finally finding a surrogate could make a man on edge. He must be desperate to give his wife a baby. And I can understand that the pay is important to you and your kids. I’d have to be a special kind of jerk to get in the way of that.” He looked up at me, disappointed but still hopeful. “Well, I mean… I’ve waited for you this long. I can wait another nine months.”

I sighed and shook my head. “I can’t ask you to do that. I’m not pregnant. It’ll be longer than nine months.”

He shrugged, defeated. “There’s not one person in this town I’d rather wait for. You can trust me on that. I’ve waited on you before.”

I breathed out a laugh. “I’m sorry, Colton. You’re sweet, but…”

“You don’t know me that well yet. I get it.” One corner of his mouth turned up. “He can’t stop us from running into each other.”





Chapter Twelve

At ten PM sharp, Max knocked on my door. I opened it as I had more than a dozen times before, in a clean robe with clean skin and wet hair. Unlike the times before, Max stood on my dark porch, shoulders sagging and looking at my bare feet.

“May I come in?” he asked.

I didn’t speak, instead pushing the door open and stepping to the side.

He took a step in, looking like he hadn’t slept since the last time he was in my bed.

I turned on my heels and went into the bedroom, sitting on the bed and pushing back until my head was against the mountain of pillows. He followed, but stopped in the doorway, meeting my gaze for only a moment before looking away. I was meaning to be impudent, but had never felt more like a prostitute than I did in that moment.

Max kicked off his shoes and took off his shirt, crawling into bed from the foot like usual. I tensed, waiting for him to settle between my legs, but this time he didn’t stop in his usual place. He lay his head on the pillow next to me, lost in thought.

“I… have no words for the way I treated you. It’s inexcusable, and then in addition to my behavior on your birthday. I despise everything I said, everything I felt, and the way I must’ve made you feel. I haven’t been able to stand being in my own skin. I don’t deserve your forgiveness, and yet I must have it or I’ll go mad.” He reached for my hand and pressed his lips against my knuckles. “I can’t apologize enough. I’ve finally found peace and it seems I’ll do anything to keep it. But you’re right. As much as I want you to belong to me, you’re not my property. You’re no one’s property, and my behavior was utterly sickening. The way I spoke to you…”

I could see the self-loathing in his eyes, but I didn’t want to. I wanted him to be unremorseful and selfish and mean so I could continue hating him, but he hated himself enough for the both of us.

He kissed my hand again. “Please tell me you forgive me.”

“You want me to forgive you so you can sleep? Fine. I forgive you.”