accepted that her relationship with Alberto was an innocent one.
She could tell him it was until she was blue in the face: he’d never believe it. All her business trips to New York, he perceived as visits to Alberto. They weren’t of course. Oh, she’d often see Alberto while she was there, but she’d rarely stayed with him. Usually she stayed at the Old-Colonial-style penthouse she owned in Manhattan. She adored Alberto. But not the way she had always adored Max. Which she didn’t any more, she told herself. Not at all. Because he had killed her love for him stone dead.
Max gave a chilly smile. ‘Looks a lot like his dad though, don’t he?’
Before she knew it, Annie was on her feet, the blood singing in her ears.
‘Listen up, will you? Alberto is my stepson,’ she repeated, glaring at her ex-husband with murder in her heart.
‘Sure he is.’ Now Max stood up too. Annie didn’t flinch – she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. They glared at each other, nose to nose.
‘He is. And you know something else? You and me, we’re divorced. If I wanted to sleep with anyone, you’d have no say in the matter. Even Alberto. Which isn’t the case, which has never been the case, you arsehole.’
Max was silent for a moment, his eyes locked with hers.
‘You know what?’ he said at last.
‘No. What?’ demanded Annie. She could feel the heat of his breath on her face. Could smell the faint citrus tang of his cologne. She wanted, so much, to hit him.
‘I never know whether to fight you or fuck you, and that’s a fact,’ he said. ‘I’m leaning towards the second option, right this minute.’
This was how it had always been between them. Max was deep and dark, forever pulling strings and taking risks, determined to come out on top in anything he did; Annie was obstinate to the last, with a strong need for security and stability. She was his polar opposite. They sparked off each other, attracted, repelled.
She could feel the tug of his attraction, even now. And he could feel hers. She could see it in his eyes, the dilation of his pupils, the red-hot flash of desire evident in the tension in his body.
He started to move forward. Annie drew back her arm and slapped him, hard, around the face. Max stopped in his tracks. He rubbed at his jaw, gave her a glinting smile and stepped forward again, undeterred.
At that moment, the door opened.
‘Am I interrupting?’ It was Alberto.
Max looked at Alberto, then at Annie. ‘You see what I mean? One little squeak.’
Alberto glanced between the two of them. ‘Did I miss something?’ he asked.