Max knew exactly what this woman was doing, and it would take more than her challenge regarding his age being so much older than her own to antagonize him into enforcing the physical retribution he’d suggested.
No doubt Adam was chortling on the other side of the two-way mirror as he enjoyed this young woman’s attempts at insulting Max.
Besides, there was a much more pleasurable way to ensure he had her obedience. One that involved tasting those pouting and unglossed lips…
Max bent and took her wrist in a tight grasp to pull her effortlessly to her feet. His other arm moved about her waist to easily pull her body in tightly against his much harder one before she had chance to react.
“What are you doing?” she demanded indignantly, her hands pushing against his chest.
The instant stirring of Max’s cock came as a surprise to him. Most especially so because for the past year, he’d become aroused by thoughts of only one particular woman.
The heated awareness ripping through him was even harder to explain.
Unless…
Dear God, this couldn’t possibly be her, could it?
Max tightened his arm about her waist as he lifted his other hand to grasp the bill of the baseball cap and pull it roughly off her head.
Instantly releasing a cascade of shiny and smooth red hair that flowed silkily down the length of her spine.
He drew back to study the details of the beautiful face he instantly recognized as belonging to BellaRosa Ferrari-Smythe.
Deep green eyes, fringed with naturally dark lashes.
A sprinkling of freckles across her small, pert nose and high cheekbones.
A smooth and creamy complexion.
Those full and pouting lips.
Her red hair was so long and silky, Max knew it would brush the tops of the cheeks of her arse when she was naked.
Imagery which caused his already interested dick to give a noticeable throb.
He usually liked his women to be not quite so young, and a match for his experience in bed.
Where this woman was concerned, his body didn’t seem to care about either of those things.
Not surprising when, for months now, Max had been fighting the desire he felt to take this woman to his bed and keep her there for the next millennium. Or until they both expired from a lack of any other sustenance but each other.
A desire Max neither wanted nor needed in his life.
Except now he was finally holding her in his arms, he didn’t know how to let her go again.
For long, tense seconds, the two of them continued to stare into each other’s eyes. Max was transfixed, falling deeper and deeper into those clear green depths, his heart and soul rejoicing as they recognized—
No, that couldn’t be right. Max didn’t love this woman, and there was no such thing as soul mates.
His body continued to betray him, his cock becoming more engorged the longer he held her in his arms. An arousal she would soon be very aware of if he continued to hold her.
And yet he still couldn’t release her. “Well, if it isn’t Miss BellaRosa Smythe come to call,” he taunted instead.
“I prefer Rosie,” she instantly corrected, those green eyes glittering fiercely in response. “And it’s Rosie Ferrari-Smythe.”
He raised dark brows. “I’m pretty sure the member of parliament for one of London’s boroughs is named Richard Smythe, which would make his daughters BellaRosa Smythe and CaraFlora—”
“Ferrari was my mother’s name, and at the time my parents married, merging their two surnames suited my father’s intention of furthering his career by becoming partner in a prestigious law firm.” Her nose wrinkled with disgust. “It wasn’t quite so useful when he decided to go into politics. Or when he married a woman who’s only ten years older than me. That doesn’t mean I have to like the name change or the new wife. Or for Cara and me to feel a need to change our names—” She broke off abruptly, her expression becoming pained.
“What is it?” Max prompted sharply, their close proximity allowing him to see the way Rosie had given a pained wince after mentioning her sister.
Max knew CaraFlora was only a couple of years older than Rosie, although he’d always thought the auburn-haired CaraFlora appeared more fragile than her younger sister whenever the two of them accompanied their father to political events.
“Rosie?” he pressed.
Her gaze was no longer defiant. “Could you release me?”
The fact that his dick had become harder and hotter with desire, the longer her body remained pressed against his and he breathed in her heady scent of citrus and flowers, meant he wouldn’t be able to hold her for much longer anyway. Not unless he wanted her to become aware of his arousal. Which he didn’t.
“You wanted my attention. Now you have it,” he bit out.
“Please.”
That quietly spoken plea was enough for Max to loosen and then drop his arms from about her waist before stepping back to look at her through narrowed lids.
Her red hair swirled about her shoulders like a protective curtain as she moved away, framing a face that was now so pale, her eyes seemed to burn a deep emerald. The freckles across her nose and cheeks appeared stark against that pallor.
Evidence that something was deeply troubling this young woman, and after this conversation, Max was guessing that something somehow involved her sister.
The fact Rosie had gone to all this trouble to speak with him when as BellaRosa Ferrari-Smythe she could have obtained an invitation and approached him at any number of the events he attended as the social face of the Kingston family, including the charity dinner this evening, told Max that Rosie had come to him because she needed to ask for his discretion as much as his help.
“Tell me,” he bit out.
Max had spoken softly, and yet to Rosie’s ears, it sounded as if he had shouted those words.
Tell him, he requested.
Rosie didn’t even know where to start.
No doubt Max would say at the beginning.
But when had all this started?
Ten years ago, when Rosie, Cara, and their Italian mother, Claudia, had been kidnapped and held for ransom?
Or three days ago, which was the last time she’d spoken to her sister?
Being so very aware of Max wasn’t helping to calm her nerves one little bit. As he’d held her in his arms, that proximity had instantly made her aware of every hard muscle of his body—and of what she thought was the unlikely stirring of his cock in reaction to that closeness.
But maybe Max’s reaction wasn’t exclusive to her, but to any presentable and warm female he held close enough to wake up his cock.
“Drink this.”
Rosie gave a shake of her head when she saw the half-full glass of brandy Max was holding out to her. “I don’t believe in using alcohol or medication to give myself false courage.”
The harshness of his expression softened slightly. “I think you’ve already demonstrated this evening that you have plenty of the real kind.”
She gazed at him for several seconds, searching for mockery, but finding only admiration. “Because I scaled a ten-foot wall and tamed your dogs?”
“How did you learn to climb like that?”
Rosie smiled. “I took lessons in several martial arts when I was younger. Judo, jujitsu, and a couple of others.”
“That wasn’t any of those.”
“No,” she conceded. “That one is called parkour.”
He nodded. “I’m aware.”
She eyed him speculatively. “Is it something you’re trained in too?”
“No, but I’m guessing you, like many others, saw it in a movie and decided to try it for yourself?” he drawled.
“Yes.” She shrugged. “And you don’t need to be brave to use any of those abilities. Once you’ve trained in them, it becomes second nature. But I don’t need to tell you that, do I,” she added dryly.
“No,” he conceded.
“Parkour can be useful if you want to get away from someone.”
“Who do you want to get away from?” he demanded harshly.
“No one right now,” she conceded. “But I’d rather be prepared for any contingency.” Maybe if her sister had accompanied her to her martial arts lessons, she wouldn’t be missing now.
“The reason I referred to you as brave isn’t because of climbing the wall or taming the dogs,” Max drawled. “It’s because you challenged my cousin and you’re still alive to tell the tale.” He gave a hard and mocking grin into the mirror on the opposite wall.
A gesture that told Rosie the mirror must be two-way, and Max’s cousin was no doubt on the other side looking in at them. “He seemed more annoyed with his dogs than me. Will he punish them because of what I did?”
“Absolutely not,” Max assured instantly. “Guard dogs have to know they can trust their handler, and brute force isn’t the way to achieve that.”
“That’s good.” Rosie sighed her relief. “They really are good boys.”
Max placed the untouched brandy glass down on the coffee table beside the couch. “How did you know to give them raw meat?”
“We had a dog when I was small. A spaniel. It was always in the kitchen begging for meat from the cook.” She smiled at the memory.
His mouth twisted. “That was no guarantee Thor and Loki were going to feel the same way about it. Or that you sitting on the grass and humming would puzzle them into calming down long enough to investigate.”
“Something else I saw in a movie. Although, come to think of it, I don’t think it worked that time,” she added with a rueful smile. “Are those their names, Thor and Loki?”
“They’re my cousin’s dogs, so it was his choice.”
“Nice,” she approved. “And if the humming and the meat hadn’t worked, then I suppose when you drove home this evening, you would have found a woman mauled to death on your front lawn.”
None of that lightness was reflected back at her in the sternness of Max’s expression. “When are you going to stop wasting my time, and yours, and tell me the reason why you broke into my home and then refused to speak to anyone but the ‘organ-grinder’?”
Rosie gave another glance in the direction of the mirror. “I’m guessing Adam didn’t like that remark?”
“You could say that,” Max conceded. “How do you know his name is Adam?” he demanded suspiciously.
Rosie shrugged. “No one with any sense of self-preservation should ever break into a house without knowing the names of everyone who lives there,” she teased.
Max studied her for several long seconds before speaking again. “I’m still waiting for an explanation as to why you did that.”
Rosie hadn’t yet given him that explanation because she still had no idea where to start.
Just as she still had no idea what it was that had made her seek out Max Kingston again and again this past year, this time to ask for his help.
What she did know, looking at him now, was that he was capable of dealing, without mercy, with anyone he considered to be his enemy or that of a member of his family.
Rosie wasn’t Max’s enemy, but now that she was here, face-to-face with him, she was feeling more than a little overwhelmed at having his forceful personality directed solely at her.
She bent down to pick up the glass of brandy, took a swallow, and then coughed a little before placing the glass down again. She lifted her chin as she straightened to look directly at Max. “Ten years ago, my mother, my sister Cara, and I were kidnapped.”
“I remember.” His voice had deepened.
Her eyes widened. “You do?”
His mouth twisted. “I’m pretty sure there wasn’t a single person in the country at the time who wasn’t aware of the seriousness of the trial taking place in a London courtroom against Kirill Bortkov, a pakhan of the Russian bratva. He was accused of personally gunning down the head of the Italian Mafia on one of the capital’s streets. Your father was the prosecuting attorney.”
Rosie could still remember how proud her mother had been of their father for having the courage to prosecute the case no other lawyer would touch, for fear of recriminations.
It was only when Rosie was older that she’d realized it hadn’t been courage but ambition that had spurred her father’s actions. Richard Ferrari-Smythe had craved the prestige and admiration of his peers and the British public, and be damned to the consequences of his decision.
Rosie hadn’t known it then, and she doubted her mother had either, but Richard had ambitions far above being just another wealthy partner in a law firm. Ambitions he still hoped would one day take him to the most coveted position in the English government.
“Or that Claudia, BellaRosa, and CaraFlora Ferrari-Smythe were all kidnapped only two days after that trial began,” Max continued evenly. “It happened as Claudia was driving her two daughters home for the weekend from boarding school.”
Yes, it must have been especially easy for Rosie’s father to ignore any consequences that might arise from the Bortkov trial when those repercussions weren’t made directly toward him personally.
Oh, Rosie was sure her father had felt more than a few pangs of regret when his wife and daughters were kidnapped. It had certainly appeared as if he did when he appeared on the news, to emotionally appeal to the kidnappers to return his wife and daughters to him unharmed. The kidnappers had all laughed when they showed Claudia and her daughters what her husband and their father had said, the three of them laying bound and gagged on the floor of the basement where they were kept since the kidnapping.
Whatever the truth of Richard’s feelings regarding the kidnapping of his family, it hadn’t stopped him from dropping his wife’s maiden name and remarrying within two years of Claudia’s death.
He had explained to Rosie and Cara how appearances mattered in politics, and how having his first wife so brutally murdered, and now having a young and devoted second wife at his side, would aid in getting him elected. He had been proved correct through two general elections now.
“The three bodyguards, one provided for each of you for the duration of the trial,” Max stated, “were all shot and killed at the spot where the vehicle you were traveling in was forced off the road.”
Rosie knew all this. She’d been there. If she closed her eyes, she could still hear the screech of tires and smell the burning rubber as their SUV was forced onto the grass verge. She could hear her mother’s and sister’s screams, the sound of gunfire, and then the eerie silence. Just as she clearly remembered being dragged from the stationary vehicle and seeing the three bodies of their bodyguards sprawled on the road. They had looked like broken dolls, their sightless eyes staring up at the sky.
“The price demanded for your release was for your father to recuse himself as prosecutor in the Bortkov trial,” Max added. “Not that he’d needed to do that officially after you were kidnapped, because the trial was immediately put on hold.”
Rosie huffed. “Meaning the decision as to whether or not he would ever have agreed to the kidnappers’ demands was taken out of his hands.”
“The hiatus in the trial was meant to give a special forces team enough time to locate and rescue the three of you.” Max’s mouth thinned. “They arrived too late to stop the kidnappers from killing your mother.”
Rosie shook her head. “I don’t remember anything that happened after she was shot.”
Max eyed her sharply. “You don’t?”
She sighed shakily. “No.”
She had tried so many times to remember what had happened next rather than being told. First by the police, then her father and sister, even the therapist they’d been made to go to for several months after the kidnapping.
They had all told her that she and Cara had escaped from the house while the kidnappers were preoccupied with having shot and killed her mother. That the two of them had hidden in the woods surrounding the house. That they were later found there by the special forces team who had then passed them on to the medical team.
Probably as a protective mechanism, Rosie’s mind simply refused to allow her to remember anything after she had seen her mother shot and killed.
She grimaced. “For years, I’ve wished I could have thanked the people who helped us that day, but I don’t remember a single thing about them. I asked my father if he could find out who they were, but he said it wasn’t possible.”
Max watched her closely. “Does that mean you don’t remember that you and your sister only managed to escape after you had managed to wrestle the gun from the kidnapper who had just shot your mother, before you turned the gun on him and shot him in the knee?”
Rosie became still, barely breathing as she stared at him. “Because of my age, that last detail was never revealed to the public. I only know it happened because the police told me it had. How could you possibly know about that?” she accused.