Page 56 of Landlord Wars
“Details,” I said. “You never cooked for Gwen?”
“No.”
“Interesting.”
“Is it?” he asked.
“Kind of.” I leaned on my forearms and tapped my lip. “I’m trying to figure out to what I owe such effort.”
He sat back and took a sip of wine, looking at me over the rim of his glass. “I find myself wanting to do nice things for you.”
I chuckled, but I was all squirmy on the inside. “Like steal my chocolate?”
“Funny you should mention that…” He stood and crossed the kitchen to a cupboard above the fancy espresso machine. He opened it, then faced me and leaned against the cabinet, legs crossed at the ankle, as though he were revealing a treasure.
And he was.
I blinked several times, making sure I was seeing correctly. Four three-inch by three-inch golden boxes rested on an empty shelf. Not actual gold—they were probably made of cardboard, with a patterned surface to make the boxes look like they’d been plated gold. But I recognized the emblem. “No way. Those aren’t La Fleur au Truffe.”
His eyes twinkled. “Aren’t they?”
“They can’t be,” I said, half sitting, half standing in my excitement. “They cost two hundred and fifty dollars a chocolate.”
He reached for two of the boxes and set them on the island in front of me, and I sank back into my seat. “I thought we should see what all the hype is about,” he said.
My heart raced. I looked between him and the chocolates and touched the surface of the box in front of me. I was in the presence of La Fleur au Truffe—and it blew my mind. “Where did you find these?”
He opened one of the lids and pulled out a truffle. “My assistant put in an order a couple of weeks ago. They don’t last long, so we better eat them. Say ah.”
I opened my mouth, and he slowly placed the chocolate inside.
Rich ganache, vanilla, cream, and straight-up decadence, if decadence was a flavor, filled my senses. “Oh my God…” Mouth orgasm—that’s what this was.
He notched his chin up. “Another?”
My eyes widened and I nearly choked. “Have you lost your mind?” I said, chewing and savoring. No way would I wash it down with wine and ruin the flavor. “I can’t believe I just ate two hundred and fifty dollars. We can’t eat two; that’s too much.”
Max opened the second box and tossed the truffle in his mouth. He chewed and nodded. “It’s good. Not sure they’re worth all the effort. Some of the chocolate I stole from your apartment was just as nice.”
I pointed at him. “So you admit to stealing my chocolate!”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Was it ever in question?”
I thought back, trying to remember if he’d ever denied it. He’d certainly suggested Jack might have bought the chocolate for him, which was ridiculous. Jack didn’t eat chocolate. “You played it like you didn’t know it was mine.”
He walked back to the cupboard and grabbed the last two boxes. “We better eat these before they go bad. Think of it as repayment for all the chocolate I stole and conservation of the planet. They don’t last long, and we wouldn’t want to have to throw them away.”
This was madness. “I can’t believe you bought La Fleur au Truffe for a date.” Jack was right—Max and I had more in common than I thought, because reckless spending on chocolate was something I would do. “I can’t believe it, but I respect it.”
He shrugged, pleased with himself. “I owed you.”
“You did, right?” I smiled, willing to justify this gift in any way possible. He owed me for all the emotional turmoil he’d caused with his early Max attitude and chocolate scavenging.
As though remembering something, Max said, “Why were you so jumpy earlier?”
It might be rude, but I didn’t care; I blatantly ogled the last two boxes of chocolate. “When?”
“When I came looking for Jack.”
