Page 7 of Maximum Dare
But my pride had suffered the most, seeing Nick withher. I was still trying to ignore the crushing pain in my chest.
I lowered the cold pack and gently touched my bruised nose. At least I hadn’t broken it after walking straight into a lamppost—the one with a sign proclaiming that spot as the most fun place in London.
“I live in Bermondsey,” I said.
“Carl knows.”
But apparently they’d had no idea I’d been living with Nick. There were so many possible reasons why he hadn’t told them. Maybe it was to protect me from his weird family…though clearly Morgan was being proudly showcased to them and the rest of the entire world.
This did nothing for my confidence. I was merely the shop girl who worked at Harvey Nichols in the evening gown department, ironically selling dresses I’d never be able to afford.
Rubbing my forehead, I fought back tears of frustration at the endless rejection I had to face.
Max shot me a look of concern.
I rested the cold pack on my lap. “You want only the best for Nick.”
“We all do.” He tugged at his scarf and pulled it off.
I watched as he unbuttoned his coat and peeled it open to reveal a T-shirt that showed off his toned abs. His jeans clung to his thighs, showing off their muscular strength. This man looked like he hit the gym frequently.
My consolation prize for a horrible evening was sitting in the back of an SUV with Nick’s big brother and savoring this man candy. I mean, even his chiseled bits were chiseled. That five o’clock stubble on his perfect jaw had a hint of grey that gave him a sophisticated edge. This man had playboy written all over him.
Quite literally…
I stared at his T-shirt, which had “Playboy” written across it. “Bit on the nose.”
“Excuse me?”
I gestured at his shirt.
He peered down at it. “This is a band from São Paulo. They’re called ‘Playboy’.”
“Right.” I gave him a skeptical look and he returned my cheekiness with a heart-stopping grin.
“They’re like Pearl Jam,” he added.
“Okay, the name rings a bell. I think Nick has their latest album.”
“Because I bought it for him.” He paused, staring at me. “How’s your…face?”
“Why?”
“You hit that pole pretty hard.”
“Does it look bad?”
“No.” He didn’t sound convincing. “Do you have a spare pair of glasses?”
“No, but I have contact lenses, too.”
Late-night shoppers were scurrying along the pavement, all looking like they were having a much better time than me. Even with the sky pouring down on them.
He reached into his pocket. “Let me pay for new glasses.”
I reached for his hand to stop him. “No, thank you.” I wasn’t going to accept cash in the back of a car like a tart.
“Maybe we can come to an arrangement,” he said.
