Chapter Three
Two months later, Scarlett had her first 'official date' with Max. They had spent those two months getting to know each other, and collaborating a story about how they had met. Most importantly, they decided how he had proposed. They disagreed on the finer details, but that was the only natural between real couples, so they let it slide in their fake relationship.
For their first real date, where her identity as Maximillian Barnes' fiancée was officially revealed to the world, Scarlett insisted that they go see a Broadway musical. There was something about a live performance that thrilled and immersed her the way a movie, no matter how enjoyable, could not. She had actually been surprised to learn that Max preferred theater over cinema as well. Actually, she found it surprising how well they got along. Conversation was easy between them as if they had really had known each other for years before Max proposed.
"I'm just saying that the girl who played the maid ought to have been the lead soprano," Scarlett said, as Max helped her into her coat in the lobby of the theater. The play, which Max had chosen, had been surprisingly racy and left Scarlett with a pounding heart.
"I'm not disagreeing with you that her voice was better," Max said, wrapping a scarf around his neck. "But she was far too old to be the countess, and the maid had the next largest role."
Scarlett indulged herself in an eye-roll as they left the theater. It was a crisp, bright night full of lights. Max had an apartment within walking distance that they would be spending the night in, and she was glad for the walk. After sitting in the theater for so long, her body ached for movement.
Scarlett collected her thoughts to counter Max's argument as they headed off into the clear night. "The countess doesn't need to be as young as she was cast."
"The main point of the story is the scandal from the age gap between her and her husband. A young actress is necessary."
"The count was made to look well into his nineties," Scarlet countered. "The maid couldn't have been more than thirty, that's still a massive age gap with a ninety-year-old husband. The actress would have been just as suited to be a young wife as the seventeen-year-old they cast. Or are you saying that a thirty-year-old bride is just the right age for a ninety-year-old groom?"
Max laughed and inclined his head. "You win, madam. Quite correctly. The maid was plenty young enough to play the countess."
Scarlett nodded, satisfied with her work. They had gone a block by this time, and as they passed through an alley, a flash of movement caught her eye. Even as she turned, she felt a hand clasp over her wrist and pull her off balance. The sharp edge of a knife pressed against her ribs, making her gasp. Madoc! He'd found out who she was!
"Give me your wallet and watch," rasped a male voice. He sounded even more frightened than Scarlett felt.
Not Madoc, then, or anybody sent by him.
She twisted and saw that the man who held her captive wasn't much more than a boy. He could only be sixteen, and he had wide, frightened eyes and a trembling hand. Not a criminal at all, just a boy making a desperate choice. Scarlett couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. She ran through all the ways she could disarm him in her mind, but didn't attempt to free herself just yet, curious as to what Max would do.
"Give me the wallet!" The boy insisted.
Max held up his hands, his expression calm. "Hold up there. Let's not lose our cool. You look hungry. Why don't you let my fiancée go so we can grab something to eat and talk this through?"
The boy's expression contorted. A look of anger flashed through his eyes and he pressed the knife snugger against Scarlett's ribs. She grabbed his wrist, ready to do what she needed to do to avoid getting hurt, but Max shook his head minutely, as though telling her not to.
"All right," he said, "you can have my wallet."
He drew out the wallet and held it out towards the boy, who roughly pushed Scarlett away to snatch it. Before his fingers could close on the leather, though, Max had moved forward. He slapped the knife from the boy's hand and grabbed his wrist, twisting him around. With one hand firmly clasping the boy's wrist, he grabbed the back of his jacket and hoisted him from the ground.
"I was in the Marines, you picked the wrong man to mug."
"Let me go!"
"Can you bring that?" Max said pleasantly, nodding towards the fallen knife.
Scarlett, gaping, did as he asked. The boy squirmed in Max's grasp, but the billionaire easily carried him to his apartment building. The doorman looked at them strangely as they passed. Scarlett skirted past him, not daring to even try to make up an excuse for this. Anything she said would just make him more suspicious.
The boy had stopped fighting by the time they got to the apartment, a lush open-concept space with a loft bedroom.
Only one bedroom. And the couch didn't look too comfortable. Scarlett narrowed her eyes at Max as he deposited their would-be mugger at the kitchen table. Did he think he could change her mind on the no-sex rule? It would explain the racy play he had chosen…
She found herself hoping that he would try… Max was not the arrogant jerk she had thought he would be. In fact, if he weren't so obscenely wealthy, she might even consider calling him a gentleman.
Max looked at the boy, folding his massive arms. "What's your name?"
"Sam. What are you going to do with me?"
"What's your story, Sam?"
The boy shifted in his seat, scowling.
Max pulled a loaf of bread and jar of jam from the fridge. "You got allergies?"
Sam's eyes widened slightly as he shook his head.
"I'm going to make you a sandwich, and you’re going to tell us why you're mugging people," Max said coolly. "Deal?"
Scarlett sat next to the boy. "We're not going to call the police. Are we, Max?"
The billionaire shrugged and shook his head. "Guess not."
"My dad's sick," the boy muttered, glaring suspiciously at them. "My mom works three jobs, but I need to help bring in some money to pay the bills. But nobody will hire me. We need the money."
Max grunted. He pushed the sandwich to the boy. After a moment, Sam tore into it like he hadn't eaten all day. Scarlett resisted the urge to pat his back and dig out the money from Max's wallet to give to him. This was exactly why she did what she did. No child should have to take this amount of responsibility just to keep the family's head above water. The basic staples of life—food, water, shelter, medical care—those should be rights, not privileges that could only be bought.
This child wasn't a criminal. The system, strangling the life out of his childhood, then blaming him for doing what he needed to do to put food on his family's table, was criminal. Why couldn't more people see that?
Scarlett realized she was glaring at Max, who deliberately ignored her. He was writing something in a notebook–no, his checkbook. Scarlett's eyes widened as he tore out a check and handed it to Sam.
"Take it," he urged, as Sam stared at the check. "That ought to be enough for the rest of the month. And I've written my PA's number on the back of it, call him and tell him that I want to give you a job. You're still in high school, right?"
The boy nodded.
"Stay in school. If you graduate, I'll pay your college tuition. Got it?"
Sam cautiously took the check, looking like he had been hit by a bus. Scarlett stared at Max with much the same expression. She continued staring even after the boy finished his sandwich and was sent on his way, check in hand. It was only then that Max turned to her, arching a brow.
"Impressed?" he asked, giving her the most charming smile she had ever seen from him.
"I…" A gentlewoman never lied. But she also didn't have to tell the whole truth. "I don't see how you think saving one boy makes up for all the other families out there in the same situation."
Max's smile faltered. "I can't help them all. It would take more than just my wealth."
"You could still do a lot more than you do. You own a mansion on the outskirts of the city, an apartment in the heart of it. Property in Hawaii, even a whole island if the rumor is true. Do you really need all that? Do you need a private jet? There are people in this city who need food. And yet you spend your money on diamonds."
Max sat on the stool next to hers, a heavy frown on his face. "I haven't bought jewelry in years, I donate a significant sum to charities and I make a point to give money to random people I see on the street. Would you suggest I sell everything and give away all my money to temporary solutions?"
"No." Scarlet shook her head. "You're right, it would take more than just your wealth to change the world, but you could change thousands of lives. But I think this is a conversation for another time. Where am I going to sleep?"
A slow smile curled Max's lips. There was a gleam in his eye that made Scarlett's heart beat faster and a flush rise in her cheeks. So he was hoping to change her mind on the no-sex rule. That must be why he’d chosen such a racy play. She lightly smacked his arm.
"Don't you recall the rule I made about—"
"I remember," he interrupted. "But did I agree?"
His hand rested on her knee, sliding her skirt up her thigh. Scarlett had to stop herself from shivering at his light touch, a fire lighting in her belly. What would Hao say about this? Was it turning too much into a confidence scheme? Her insides quivered when Max's hand stopped inches too soon.
No, because I'm not using my relationship to steal anything. We're just redefining the rules of our agreement
"You agreed," she said, but her voice trembled with desire. "I suppose one tiny exception wouldn't hurt—"
Max was on his feet in an instant, hiking her skirt up so he could spread her thighs around his hips. His mouth was on hers, turning her into hot jelly, but Scarlett didn't care. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling his mouth closer. She loved the sensation of his hard chest against her.
He easily lifted her from the stool and carried her up the loft stairs to the bed.