Chapter 22
I stiffen at the mention of the girl’s name.
“She’s really nice, Daddy,” he says dreamily.
“I’m glad you think so,” I reply carefully. “But you can’t just run off without telling anyone.”
He looks down guiltily and nods his head.
I set him down, my mind is still reeling from the fact that Max had come here looking for this girl he barely knows.
“Why did you run off?” I ask gently, trying not to sound accusatory.
Max fidgets with his fingers and I nudge him into the booth. I sit down with Max, preparing to talk to him about the dangers of running off when Brielle offers to make me a coffee and Max a hot chocolate. I nod, waving her off and turning to look at my son who still hasn’t answered. Brielle brings both drinks and a muffin for each of us, and I can’t help but appreciate the kindness in her actions.
I sip my coffee watching my son. Max sets down his cup, his small hands gripping it tightly as he looks around the café, his eyes scanning the room until they land on Brielle, who is now chatting with a group of customers.
I can feel my patience wearing thin. I take a deep breath and try to remain calm, knowing that getting angry will only make the situation worse. “Max, why do you keep running off? You Can’t keep doing this. I was on a very important call.”
Chapter 22
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“You’re always on calls. You never have time for me,” he pouts. I run my fingers through my hair and sigh.
“Max, you know how important my work is,” I say firmly. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t have time for you. You’re my son and you will always come first.”
He looks at me with wide eyes, seemingly surprised by my response. I reach over and ruffle his hair affectionately.
“What about Blair? She would have been worried about you. What if someone took you?”
“She’s old and can’t run fast,” he complains. “And I didn’t want to go training with Mr. Kitcher either.” He turns to look at Brielle, his eyes lighting up.
“Blair may be old, but she loves you just as much as I do,” I add. Max looks down guiltily once again. I can tell he understands the severity of his actions.
“I’m sorry, Daddy,” he mumbles, but then his head lifts abruptly when he speaks again.
“Can’t Brielle teach me? She can run fast, and she kicked your guards‘ asses. Kicked one right in his family jewels; she did! Dropped him like a bag of potatoes.”
I can’t help but chuckle despite myself, though I quickly scold him. “Language, Max.”
I give him a small smile and squeeze his hand before turning my attention back to Brielle who is still chatting with the customers. She catches my eye and gives me a small nod before excusing herself from the group and walking over to our table.
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“Is everything okay?” she asks softly, her gaze lingering on
Max.
“Yes, thank you for asking,” I reply gratefully. “I just had a very important call that was interrupted by Max’s little adventure.”
Brielle nods understandingly. “I know it must be tough being a single parent,” she says sympathetically.
My heart clenches at her words, somehow Brielle seems to have sensed it or maybe she asked around, it is technically public knowledge, but most Rogues stay out of political stuff.
“It definitely has its challenges,” I admit with a sigh. Her lips curl upwards, forming a gentle smile as she looks fondly at Max. As she sets the plate down on the table, Brielle’s hand lightly brushes against Max’s hair, tousling it playfully. And I can’t help but take her in. Her skin is soft and smooth, she is petite, full lips, yet delicate features. She is gorgeous.
Brielle’s hair is a vibrant array of colors, and it falls in long curling waves almost to her hips. Her lips are a soft shade of pink, curved into a genuine smile that reaches her bright- green eyes. She wears a simple white t–shirt and jeans, with her apron over the top, but somehow manages to look graceful, even covered in spilled coffee and food crumbs.
“Then who would make everyone’s coffee?” she laughs nervously when Max suggests something to her that I missed when I was busy watching her. “You could be my Nanny. I would go to Mr. Kitcher’s class if Brielle could come with me.”
I huff, leaning back in my chair.
“Brielle has a job, and my son won’t blackmail me,” I scold him.
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Max pouts, but I can’t help noticing the way Brielle’s presence seems to lift his spirits as she wanders off.
