Page 46 of Hot Nights in Morocco
“Thank God for that. I like to smile and have fun once in a while. Besides, I’m not into monogamous screwing. He’s a strictly one-in-one-out kinda guy. Variety is the spice ofmylife.”
“Do you like Cassie?” I ask idly, hating myself for it.
“What made you think I was referring to her?” He chuckles when he sees my reaction. “Relax, Charlie, you look like you’re about to faint. Mind you, I tend to have that effect on women.”
I’m not listening anymore. My heart just detonated in my chest. If he’s guessed, then who else has, too? “I don’t know what you think you know, Max—”
“So, you’renotsleeping with my brother?”
I stare at him openmouthed, winded by his bluntness.
“It’s not a crime,” he says, gently chucking my chin. “And no, I don’t think any less of you. I’m just pissed he got to you first. I’ve been trying for weeks to get you into bed.”
My mouth snaps back together. I watch in a daze as he raises his glass to his lips. “How did you find out? Did he tell you?”
Max starts choking on his drink. “Not exactly,” he says, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “I can’t get a Christmas list out of Jake, let alone the names of the women he’s screwing. I mean woman,” he corrects hastily, seeing my expression.
“You had it right the first time,” I say, staring down at my flute. “Rachel seems to think that he and Cassie are back together.”
“I’d be surprised. She crossed a line with him, and Jake’s not one for forgiveness.”
“Like the line I’m crossing?” I return my untouched flute to the counter. “C’mon Max, he’s the producer of the movie I’m working on. I’m more an industry cliché than your model assistant.”
“God no, she’smuchworse.” Max’s jaw clenches and I see a brief flash of Jake behind his eyes. Perhaps they’re more alike than I thought.
I wonder what Cassie did that was so bad…?
“If you must know, it was obvious this morning.”
My head jerks up in surprise.
“You and Jake,” says Max patiently. “You asked how I found out. I’ve never seen him that possessive over a woman before. Or, maybe I did once, a long time ago.”
“What was her name?” I ask quietly.
“Is this an attempt at self-sabotage? It didn’t end well, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Something over my shoulder catches his eye. “Ah, shit. If you’ll excuse me, honey, our script supervisor would like to give me another bollocking for screwing up her continuity today.” He kisses me lightly on the cheek. “Thank you for finally accepting my offer of a drink. You’re such a good little assistant and your ass is so hot. My life would be a total mess without you. And best of luck with my brother. I fear you might need it.”
“How strange,” I say frowning up at him. “I met someone in L.A. who said something similar to me.”
“Oh? Who was that?”
“Brad Wilson.”
Max grimaces. “Yes, well he would. Don’t take much notice of him, angel. Brad and Jake have a very long, dark, and twisted history. Here, have the rest on me.” He hands me the Bollinger and kisses me good night all over again.
I’m stalling for time, so I finish off the entire bottle before heading upstairs. It’s not the smartest thing to do, but I’m the queen of avoidance tonight. Despite Max’s reassurances, Jake still lied to me about the extent of his and Cassie’s relationship. All I want to do is pull the bed sheets over my head and live in blissful ignorance for a while longer before any more skeletons come tumbling out of his closet.
Picking my way across the hotel courtyard, I crack a smile at the porter who is busy scooping up dead bugs and leaves from the swimming pool. He returns it with a brief wave and bids me good night.It may be night, but there’s nothing good about it.Five minutes later, I’m slipping into my room.
“Where the hell have you been?” growls a voice from the darkness.
“Holy shit!” I smack my hand against the light switch and illuminate myself to my fate. A fate who is currently sitting on the edge of my bed looking like the model depiction of anger and resentment, with his hands grasped together in front of him and his eyes as cold as flint.
My gaze darts to the nightstand where a bottle of champagne and two glasses have been placed in anticipation. Judging from the rivulets of condensation leaking down the sides, Jake’s been waiting a long time. He’s been thumbing through my treasured copy ofGreat Expectations,as well. That’s not good. He doesn’t need any pointers on how to hold a grudge.
“I asked you where you’ve been,” he says, tossing the book to one side. There’s a subtle warning in this act of carelessness. My heart is about to receive the same treatment.
“Having a drink with your brother,” I say defiantly, shutting the door behind me. I hate him when he’s like this. He’s so damn intimidating.
