Mia curled up on the couch later that night, a glass of whiskey in her hands, as Max sat at the opposite end, hunched forward expectantly. She sipped the amber liquid several more times before she thought she might be able to get through her story without breaking down completely. In all the years she’d dealt with this torment, she never lost control of her emotions, never broke down into the million pieces she wanted to every second of every day. Now that she was safe, there was no telling what would happen.

“I thought it was normal,” she started quietly. “For parents to argue the way mine did. Dad was a drunk, couldn’t hold a steady job, and blamed Mom and me for everything that went wrong.” She took another gulp and tapped her nails on the glass. “He blamed Mom for giving him a useless daughter instead of a son he could be proud of.”

Max grunted, but she’d made him promise before she started he would save his rage for after she finished telling the story. His hands curled into fists on his knees, but he kept his word and his lips remained firmly shut.

“The first time I saw him hit her, I was six… or seven? It’s blurry, but I know I was young. I remember the yelling, the way she would walk around the house with her head down, tears in her eyes all the time. I remember the fear.” She licked her lips, and she was no longer sitting in the penthouse but in their dirty, rundown living room. “Dad would barely get in the door before he would start in on her and me.”

He would sit in his easy chair in the corner and her gaze shifted to that end of the living room, imagining him there. He’d yell for her mom, and if she took too long, he’d smack her arm to start with, then work his way up to her face. She cringed as the memory of the slaps echoed through her mind.

“Mom told me that was how it was with men. They were in control and all a woman could do was smile and do her best to please him,” she snapped bitterly.

Max held his face in his hands, his eyes darkening with each word that left her mouth.

Mia grinned bitterly as she recalled the lesson her mom had given her on sex. “She told me when I was in high school that sex was painful, always painful. It was best to just lay there and let it happen and eventually, it would be over. All that mattered was keeping the man happy. We were second-class citizens in our house, hence why I never learned to drive.”

“But you got out,” he stated firmly. “Didn’t you, for a time?”

“I thought I did,” she whispered. “I went to school—local, of course—but had no money and no way to escape. By the time Dad kicked the bucket, Mom wasn’t far behind, and then I was alone. Keith came along a few weeks after I buried her and rescued me.” The bourbon rolled in her stomach, and she set the glass down hard on the table. “I told him my sap story and he said he would take care of me. Fucking lying bastard.”

She sagged against the couch, remembering the strange look in his eyes the night she’d cried and told him the truth about her life growing up and why she couldn’t have kids. Back then, she assumed it was a look of hatred for her dad, but now, she knew he was simply latching onto the ideal woman he could control. Just like his dad had taught him to do. The one time she had met the man, she saw the controlling nature in his eyes. She should’ve known then Keith would be the same way.

“My dad only hit me once,” she muttered. “He kicked the shit out of my stomach when I tried to stop him from beating Mom. I was terrified he’d kill her, so I never told anyone. I learned a few years later that the chances of me having a baby were less than one percent.”

Her eyes stinging with tears, she leapt off the couch and paced angrily around the living room. Max stayed put, but his body was strained, and Mia assumed he was struggling not to run after her. When she reached the windows, she rested her arm against them and laid her forehead on that.

“Keith was fine—the perfect boyfriend—for a few months, but he changed. He realized I was a virgin and it flipped a switch. Everything was about my image after that, being pure, and I was on a short leash.” She fought the urge to be sick as the insults he’d flung at her flew through her mind, one after the other. “I dropped out of school because of him. I believed it when he told me I couldn’t make it. That no one would ever respect me. To make it worse, he cheated on me whenever he could. He thought he was so smart, but I’m not an idiot. I smelled it when I came home.”

In the reflection of the glass, she saw Max stand, grinding his teeth as he stalked towards her. “And the other night was the first night you were able to leave?”

Her shoulders fell and she closed her eyes. “The first time I was brave enough to even try. I was terrified all the time that he would break his rule, that he wouldn’t wait for me to be ready for him… that he would just… that he…”

Sobs wracked her body, and Max was at her side in a second and lead her back to the couch. Being with him wasn’t even close to how it felt with Keith. With Max, she knew she was safe without a doubt in her mind. His touch was strong but comforting. There was no controlling in it, no drive to break her down or make her fall. He was there for her, running one hand down her back as he whispered soothing noises in her ear.

“You sure I can’t hunt him down and rip his head off?” he tried again.

“I’m sure, as much as I’d enjoy the sight,” she mumbled, wiping her face on her sleeves. “When Carl told me he was there for Keith, I thought that was it. I’d be back in that house and I’d never see the light of day again. I thought I would die and no one would notice.”

Max held her chin and the raw want in his eyes reached deep into her soul. “I would.”

“You didn’t even know me then.”

“No, but I think I was supposed to.” He shrugged one massive shoulder and graced her with a rare grin. “I’ve no fucking idea why, love, but there it is.”

Mia leaned back in his arms, wishing she could read what rushed through his mind. What was he trying to tell her? They weren’t supposed to be in this relationship except to get her away from her ex and so he could get his parents off his back, but whatever grew between them was definitely not in the contract they’d signed at the wedding. Lust, that was all it could be—lust and her clinging to the only man who gave her the affection she’d lived without for so long. Sitting cradled in his lap, she realized how small she was compared to him, and at the same time, how perfectly she fit against his body, just like when they lay together on his bed.

His touch had the power to erase all her bad memories of Keith. Her arms snaked around his neck as she settled against his lap, shifting her legs so she straddled him. “Mia,” he whispered hoarsely.

“What?” She kissed his cheek and trailed her lips over his neck. His hands gripped her hips, and she felt his erection pressing between her legs. She paused for a moment, worried about what she was doing, but she wanted to ensure she wasn’t the only one receiving pleasure in this arrangement.

“Mia, wait,” he grunted and pulled her arms carefully down from around his neck, holding them against his chest. He breathed deeply out his nose. “I don’t want you to do something you might regret in the morning.”

“But after everything you said?”

“I still want to. Don’t think I don’t dream about you panting for more breath beneath me as I thrust into you, but after everything you’ve been through, I’m not rushing you into anything.” He kissed each hand in turn before he stood. “When you’re really ready, then you can come to me and I’ll be there, love.”

He tilted his head in a goodnight salute, and with his hands shoved into his pockets, he stalked down the hall to his bedroom. Mia curled her feet up under herself again and relaxed against the back of the couch. He’d read her exactly right and she hung her head, realizing what she had almost done to herself. She wanted Max, but she wasn’t even close to ready, not yet.

* * *

Pacing around his bedroom increased his thoughts rather than exhausting them. Around one in the morning, Max peeked into Mia’s room, content to see her sleeping soundly, and then ducked out of the penthouse to go to the gym. Donning his gloves, he attacked the punching bag with a fury as he ran through everything Mia had told him. With each strike, he imagined punching her dad, Keith, and anyone else who’d hurt her in her life. Now he truly understood the reasoning behind chopping her hair off, or why she flinched and hung her head so much. Running off and doing something stupid started to look like a good idea the more he attacked the punching bag, yelling his anger until he sagged against it, drenched in sweat and gasping for air.

After the car accident, he thought he’d experienced his worst pain and anger, hating the world for what had happened to him, but he’d barely scratched the surface of the anger in his body.

He possessed enough money. Hiring someone to track down Keith and pummel him within an inch of his life wasn’t out of the question, but he wasn’t sure how Mia would react to that news. On the outside, she was still docile, still weak and ready to give in, but buried inside her was a fire that needed to be stoked. She was a fighter. He’d seen it at the pub, and he would make it come out again. Make sure she never felt powerless again.

When Mia stepped out of her bedroom the next morning, he was there to greet her with her own set of boxing gloves. “Morning,” she said slowly as she took the gloves with an arched brow.

“I’m going into the office late,” he informed her and walked towards the door. “Let’s go, love.”

“Where are we going? Max!” She ran to keep up with him, wearing her sweat shorts and tank from the night before. “Can you explain to me what’s going on here?” she tried again as they exited the elevator outside the gym.

“You are going to learn a few things today,” he explained and held the door open for her.

“Like what, exactly?”

He guided her to the punching bag and instructed her to put the gloves on. She eyed him warily, but he crossed his arms over his chest and refused to say another word until she gave in with a laugh, slipping the smaller gloves over her hands.

“There. Now what, Rocky?”

He smirked and squared her up with the punching bag. “Hit it.”

“Hit it? What, just like that? Why? And how long have you been awake?”

He didn’t respond, not about to tell her he was up all night beating the shit out of this very bag until the first early morning treadmill walkers and swimmers appeared through the door. “Long enough. Punch it.”

She puffed out her cheeks and hauled her right arm back. With a grunt, she punched at the bag, but it barely moved. “Like that? I don’t think I’m very good at this.”

“Do it again,” he ordered.

She drew her arm back an aimed it at the bag again, but he could tell she wasn’t putting all she could into it. “I have no idea what you’re trying to get me to do here.”

“That night at the pub, I saw something in your eyes—a fire, Mia, a fire that has the potential to burn like an inferno if you would just give it a chance,” he insisted. “There is more to you than this woman who has been beaten down her whole life.”

She squared her shoulders, but her eyes were filled with doubts, weighing her down. “It was a fluke.”

“Is that what you’re really going to tell me? It was a fluke?’

“Yeah, a fluke,” she snapped, growing angrier by the second. “He was trying to kidnap me, for God’s sake, so I let my instincts kick in, but it was a fluke. I’m not programmed like that. I can’t do it. There’s no fire and there’s nothing besides what you see standing before you.”

She started to undo the gloves, but he blocked her path. “Bullshit.”

She fumed as she tried to shove past him, but he moved with her. “I’m not in the mood for this.”

“You’re running,” he challenged. “You’ve realized it’s your best option, the easiest option, so you’re going to run. But if you do it now, you’re going to be running for the rest of your life, no matter who you’re with or how far away you move.”

Mia turned her back on him, but he walked around to face her again. “Go away.”

“Not until you admit I’m right.”

“Well, you’re not, okay? Just back off already. I can’t do it.”

“Bullshit,” he repeated fiercely. “They hurt you, Mia. They beat you down and convinced you you’re weak, that you’re less than them, less than any man. Are you really going to let them be right forever?” She scrunched her eyes closed, pursed her lips, and didn’t speak. “You’re never going to escape them if you don’t prove to yourself you are stronger than them. That you can fight them, even in your dreams. Do it, prove to yourself that you’re stronger than them.”

She shook her head, but her hands trembled at her sides.

“Your dad hurt you so badly you can’t have kids,” he reminded her, hating to make such a low blow, but she needed to be pushed. “Keith thought he could control you, that one day he would possess every bit of you. He didn’t care about you. He never did. They used you, and they tried to destroy you. You telling me they won? Is that what this is? Are you giving in?”

A fierce scream erupted from her mouth, and she hauled her fist back and let it fly hard at the bag. Then another and another until she pummeled it, her eyes filled with a rage refrained for far too long. With each hit, he watched another flame of fury appear in her eyes, quickly replaced by growing strength. She hit the bag until her arms gave out and she sagged against it, out of breath and covered in sweat.

“Feel better?” he asked quietly.

Turning to face him, still resting against the bag, she whispered, “Yeah. Yeah, think I do, actually.” She pushed off the bag and removed her gloves. “How did you know I needed that? I didn’t even know I needed it.”

“Gut instinct,” he replied with a shrug. “I suggest you do it until the memories no longer haunt you.”

“That might be a while,” she huffed. “I wish I could reach into my mind and just rip out the memories, you know?”

“You can’t do that, but you can at least work through them.” He checked the clock on the gym wall and frowned. “I have to shower and get to the office. There’s a conference call at eleven.”

“Yeah, sure, go ahead,” she said, pushing the bag absently with her hand. “Max?”

“Hmm?” he said, taking off his own gloves and tucking them under his arm.

She opened her mouth then closed it, her brow furrowing before she shook her head. “Never mind.”

“I’ll be home around five, probably,” he said and leaned down to kiss her cheek as any good husband would do. When she didn’t flinch away, not even a little, his chest swelled with joy at the idea that he was breaking through her wall. Maybe this would work out, after all.

What are you hoping for? Love? That wasn’t part of the deal.

Maybe not, but whether he wanted to or not, Max wasn’t able to think of spending his nights with any other woman. She wasn’t ready for more yet, and he was surprisingly all right with waiting as long as she might need. Simply being in a room with her, talking to her, was enough. It was more than he’d had with any other woman in his life. When he reached the door to the gym, he heard the smacking sound of a glove against the punching bag and grinned. This would work, he would see to that.