Page 150 of Deacon

‘We OK, my love?’ I murmured with concern.

His eyes locked with mine once more for a long beat, searching my soul.

He nodded, then cupped my jawline with immense tenderness.

‘Yes, mama, we’re good,’ he rasped, his thumb sweeping across my bottom lip. ‘But I’ll have you know I’m hella skittish. Also, if that bastard gets in our face again, I won’t take it standing. I’ll knock him out and rearrange his smug face.’

ANA

Five nights into Six Sinners’ Chicago residency, we returned to The Gwen after a grueling show.

It was 11 p.m., and still buzzing with adrenaline and thirsty for a drink, I asked Deacon if we could swing by the hotel’s bar.

‘Of course,’ he murmured into my ear. ‘The band and I have a last-minute production meeting with his road crew, so go ahead; I’ll join you in a few.’

With a soft kiss, he let me go, and I made my way to the elevator, then up to the rooftop lounge.

I ordered a signature hibiscus cocktail, and when it came, I found a table with a stunning view of the city.

I sipped the liquid with genuine pleasure, as Chicago’s night breeze brushed my skin, carrying the distant resonance of the traffic below.

My mind turned to Max.

Earlier, during my solo brunch at the hotel’s restaurant, Kost, with Deacon away at rehearsal, my phone kept buzzing with Max trying to reach me.

After the fifth attempt, I answered, exasperated by his relentless persistence.

The conversation lasted under three minutes; he said he’d found my vintage camera gear in his Milan townhouse and asked whether to ship or dispatch the equipment via private courier.

It felt like an unnecessary reason to hound me, yet given the harmless nature of his inquiry, I told him to hire a white-glove transport service and handle the lenses with care.

Disconnecting the line left me with a subtle dread.

Now, that disquiet persisted, and tamping down the feeling, I forced my focus to shift to Deacon and our second chance together.

It was more than I’d hoped; I was falling in deeper love with him, more than when we first married, enamored with the man he’d become.

‘Ana?’

A familiar, slick voice cut through my reverie.

I spun around on my barstool, my heart dropping into my stomach as Max stepped to my table.

‘The hell?’ I murmured.

Shock gave way to instant, fiery annoyance as I tightened my grip on the stem of my glass.

I raked my eyes over him from head to toe.

He wore a tailored velvet blazer and a silk shirt unbuttoned to the waist, in his usual over-the-top Italian panache.

A hungry, possessive gleam lit his eyes, causing the small hairs on the back of my neck to stand up.

‘What the heck are you doing here, Max?’ I demanded. ‘How did you find me?’

‘You never turned off your Life360 location sharing on your phone,’ he murmured, taking a bold step and plopping down on the chair beside me.

‘Is that why you called me about the vintage camera earlier? To locate me?’