Page 75 of Billionaire's Desire
“Maggie knew Poppy.”
Finn looks at me with a mixture of surprise and concern. “What do you mean she knew Poppy? Who is Poppy?
“Poppy is Pen.”
He immediately sits up at the mention of his late fiancée’s name.
“Pen? My Pen?”
I take a deep breath and explain everything to him—how I met Maggie, the incident with the wine, the discussion about the bakery, skipping most of the sex stuff.
Finn’s face is unreadable as he listens to me.
When I finish, he looks at me with a mix of hurt and anger.
“Maggie? Maggie as in Meg? So, you slept with the woman who killed my fiancée?” he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
I feel like the air has been knocked out of me. I had never thought of it like that before. “I didn’t know, Finn,” I say, my voice shaking. “I swear, I had no idea.”
Finn stands up, his fists clenched at his sides. “I can’t even look at you right now, Max,” he says, his voice filled with anger. “You slept with the woman who killed my fiancée, and you didn’t even know it. How could you be so clueless?”
I try to explain myself, but he isn’t listening. He grabs his jacket and storms out of the office, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I sit there for a few minutes, feeling numb. I can’t believe how quickly everything has fallen apart. I thought I had found someone special in Maggie, but now it seems like everything was a lie.
I pick up my phone, wanting to call her—to tell her how much I miss her, to get more answers from her, but ultimately decide not to.
This involves a lot more than my broken heart.
It also involves Finn, and I wouldn’t do that to him.
As the hours pass, I realize that I may have lost Maggie forever.
Just like my brother lost Pen.
And for the first time ever, I finally understand a fraction of the pain he must have gone through.
This kind of heart ache feels unhealable. Even worse is the hole our breakup ripped in my heart.
Chapter 15
Maggie
I’munpackingthelastof my boxes in the new apartment Hilda and I just moved into. The room feels so empty and unfamiliar, like a blank slate. It’s not as grand as the yacht we stayed in, but it feels nice to have a place of our own. It’s been a week since I last saw Max and I’m still reeling from the pain and hurt of our breakup.
I’ve been keeping myself busy by trying to settle into the new space. I’ve been hanging pictures on the wall and arranging furniture. But no matter how much I try to distract myself, my mind keeps wandering back to Max.
It hurts to think about the way he closed the door on me, the hurt and anger etched on his face. I still can’t believe that he blamed me for Poppy’s death, especially when I had no idea who he was when we met. The news that she was his brother’s fiancée shook me to my core. And now, I’m living with the guilt that I slept with the man who accused me of killing her.
Fuck!
It still hurts to think about.
The Coles cost me a lot.
My future, my livelihood, my peace of mind.
As I sit on the bed, surrounded by half-opened boxes tears start to stream down my face. It’s been so hard trying to keep it together, to pretend that everything is okay. I miss Max so much and I hate that things ended the way they did.
