She, the Kingdom (She #1)(61)

He stared at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing when he swallowed.

“What?” I said.

“Are we? In a relationship? If it’s too fast for you, I can slow down. I want you to be happy.”

I closed my eyes. I’d made a mess of his surprise, and dinner, and our first time out together as a couple. Now it was awkward, and disappointing, and a huge let-down. I thought about what that would mean for Max to give me space. Not just for him, but for me. For a man who I’d hated the moment we’d spoken, it made me feel sick to think of him not being in my life.

“I am happy. You make me happy. I just need a minute to get used to everything. But I want to get used to it with you. I definitely want to get used to it with you.”

He offered a small, cautious smile. “That’s good news. I suppose this is a terrible time to inform you that my sister would like to meet you.”

“Peaches?”

He smiled. “Yes, and yes, that is actually her name.”

The waitress brought the wine, and poured the dark red liquid into our glasses, leaving the bottle on a stand next to our table. We looked over the menu.

“Oh. Wow. I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve had anything listed.”

“Take your time. We’ve got all night.”

“This place doesn’t close?”

“Not until we leave.” He smirked.

“Does everyone do what you want?”

He sat back, satisfied with my observation. “For the most part.”

“Was it always that way?” I asked.

He thought about my question for a while. “For the most part.”

“That’s it?” I teased. “That’s all you’re going to say?”

“I don’t generally discuss my life before college. After that, I’d say yes.”

“What happened before college?” The question came out before I realized what I was asking. He’d just said he didn’t talk about it. Then again, if he wanted me to love him, I had to know him, first. I touched my wine glass to my mouth and drank in the dark, bitter liquid.

“That, my love, is a conversation for another night.”

I frowned.

“Oh. She’s unhappy,” he said, teasing. “We can’t have that.” He cleared his throat, and his demeanor changed. I could tell that he was getting ready to tell me what he’d already said he wasn’t comfortable sharing. He was willing to whatever he could to satisfy my every desire—the same way he was with Sophie. He’d loved her and trusted her until she’d given him a reason. Up until that moment, he’d worshipped her.

Just before he spoke, I held up a finger. “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Morgan,” he scolded. “I take on a commanding role in almost every other facet of my life. I prefer to approach love in a different way.”

“I just,” I hesitated, “I don’t want to treat you the way Sophie did just because I have something you need. I want you to be happy, too.”

“You think I’m kissing your ass to fall asleep between your legs?”

I shrugged, not knowing how else to answer such a straightforward question.

“You have to see that I’m happier than I’ve been since we’ve met. You make me happier than I’ve been in a long time. I want to make you as happy as you make me. I’ll do whatever it takes to accomplish that.”

“Now, that’s settled…” he sighed, refocused on the story he was about to tell. “My parents have been married for over forty miserable years. Peaches and I had nannies, servants, and instructors, but our parents remained largely preoccupied with their own misery. I love them, but I don’t know them. I spent most of my childhood in boarding schools. Several, I might add. I was precocious.”

“I can’t imagine,” I said.

He chuckled, and then his smile faded. “You’re probably curious when I developed my particular need. I was first sent away at six. I was moved to a new school by seven, and I spent three years at St. Augustine’s. It’s fairly well-known in my parents’ circle. St. Augustine’s has a very strict administration set on correcting the paths of wayward boys. It was… stressful, and I acted out often—and was punished often. At thirteen I was sent to Brookfield Prep, a school for the incorrigible children of the wealthy, a step above St. Aug’s, which took a different approach to discipline, but being around a concentration of boys who knew only how to get in and out of trouble just gave me ideas on how to behave worse and not get caught.”

“By fourteen, I’d lost my virginity, and the summer after, I learned for the first time since I was six what it was like to sleep a full eight hours after I went down on Phoebe Carrington—my best friend’s older sister.”

“Who was your best friend?” I asked.

Max seemed surprised by my question. “James Carrington, the third. Why?”

“Because it seems important to know the name of your childhood best friend.”

“Does it?” he asked, amused.

“Who’s your best friend now?”

He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “Hmmm… I think it’s you.”