The Alpha’s Gift_Bad Alpha Dads_The Immortals Page 6
Max’s cell phone rang from the floor where he had dropped it. The sound was loud enough to stir Amber Rose who had finally relaxed in Vivienne’s arms. She reached for it, intending to silence it, but then saw that it was Wilson calling and answered.
“Max—” Wilson said.
“It’s Vivienne. Max left.” Vivienne blinked as she saw the silhouette of a large dragon flying over the blanket of clouds. “He went out for a ride. I think.”
Wilson uttered several curses before saying, “I apologize—”
“No need for apologies. The situation is seriously fucked up. That reporter has already pinned Max as the assassin. But how? Why?”
“Vivienne, he needs to come back to the apartment asap. The police are coming. Social services are coming too.”
Vivienne’s heart grew heavy. “Wilson, the baby is Max’s.”
“How do you know?”
“I was there when he discovered Amber Rose is his daughter—”
“I’m on my way to the apartment. If we are lucky, we can manage to get him inside before the police arrive.”
Amber Rose’s little mouth moved toward Vivienne’s chest, reminding her it was time to feed the baby. Running from the living room to the kitchen, Vivienne kept looking out the wall-to-wall windows of the hallways, hoping to catch the dragon’s attention as she waved her free hand in large circles.
Unaware of her attempts, the beast kept flying in and out of the clouds, casting long shadows on the streets below.
Vivienne fixed a bottle for Amber Rose and fed her as she walked up and down the hallway, hoping that the dragon would finally turn her way. Instead, the winged animal flew higher and disappeared from her sight.
A few minutes later, steps resonated in the foyer. Vivienne cradled the baby girl to her chest and ran toward the source of the sounds, but it was Wilson entering the apartment.
“He’s not home yet,” Wilson said, correctly reading her expression. “We are almost out of time. The press has already gathered downstairs. Max is usually careful, but it would be a disaster if he’s caught in his dragon form.”
With Vivienne following closely, Wilson strode toward the living room, exited onto the balcony, and reached for the wall.
Holding one of those flare guns usually found in boats, Wilson looked over his shoulder at Vivienne. “Stay a few feet behind.” He then shot in the air.
A whistling noise echoed in the silent night before a colored flower blossomed, illuminating the dark sky red and orange.
“Aren’t we trying to maintain a low profile?” Vivienne asked, covering Amber Rose with her sweater for fear that the baby could catch a cold. Thinking it better, she stepped inside the living room, taking shelter from the breeze and rain.
“Max knows what to do.” Wilson looked at the sky for a few more seconds before entering the room. “He’ll be back soon.” Without pausing to explain, he moved into the hallway, forcing Vivienne to trot after him.
Wilson went straight to Max’s bedroom and made a beeline for the master closet, reemerging a moment later holding a neatly folded pile of clothes.
“I assume that this isn’t your first rodeo,” Vivienne commented, eyeing the change.
“No, ma’am.” With the same purposeful stride, Wilson hurried to the other side of the hallway where a French door opened onto a smaller balcony. Located on the opposite side of the building’s façade and shielded by one of the four lateral walls that jutted from the skyscraper to form a star, the terrace was the perfect place for a discreet landing.
As they reached the door, a large shadow darkened the sky. The soft whoosh of wings announced the dragon’s arrival a moment before the majestic animal appeared in front of the balcony.
A shifter herself, Vivienne was used to supernaturals shifting in and out of their human forms. Dragons were the rarest of species, though, and it wasn’t an everyday occurrence when one of them dropped from the sky and changed into a handsome billionaire in front of her.
With a chuckle, Wilson gently pushed her chin up, closing her mouth which had remained open when she gasped at the sight of a buck-naked Max. Again, shifting usually involved one being naked at the end of the process, nothing new there. Still, not every shifter looked as virile as Maximus Prize did.
“You need to be presentable in less than five minutes.” Wilson threw the bundle of clothes at Max.
At Max’s raised eyebrow, Wilson said, “You are a wanted man. The police, the press, social services, all want a piece of you at the moment—”
“Social services?” Max’s growl startled Amber Rose. His stormy gaze softened at the sight of the baby, and he reached for her.
Still speechless, Vivienne opened her arms for him to take Amber Rose.
If Vivienne had thought that she had seen it all for the day and that nothing could surprise her any longer, she was sorely mistaken. Before her incredulous stare, the billionaire playboy who had just been accused of murder cradled the baby girl to his chest before dropping a kiss on the little head and soothing Amber Rose with a lullaby. All of that he did stark naked.
14
Max wanted to scream and vent his anger. He didn’t care if the rest of the world thought the worst of him, but he wouldn’t scare his daughter with one of his usual fits of rage.
“What were you saying about social services?” he asked, making sure his tone remained neutral.
“They’ll be here in a few minutes for the baby,” Wilson answered as Max feared.
“Nobody is going to take my daughter from me.” Max strode to the living room without waiting for the other two to follow.
“Max, be reasonable,” Wilson said.
“I’m being reasonable.” With his free hand, Max snatched the pile of clothes from his friend’s arm.
“Let me help you,” Vivienne said, gesturing for him to release Amber Rose in her care.
Max hesitated before depositing the baby girl in Vivienne’s arms. He hastily dressed himself and passed a hand through his hair to comb his unruly mane. “Give her back to me,” he said to Vivienne after lowering himself onto the couch.
“It’s better if Amber Rose remains with Vivienne,” Wilson said.
“No. My daughter stays with me.” Max knew he was being irrational, but he had just found Amber Rose, and he would not fail her.
“Max—” Wilson raised his hands in frustration.
At the same time, Hugo called from the foyer. “Mr. Prize?”
“In here,” Max answered, raising his voice loud enough for his doorman to hear him. He lowered his head to Amber Rose’s little one when she fussed. “It’s okay, baby girl.”
At the sound of his voice, his daughter calmed and leaned back against his chest with a content sigh. Right then, Max experienced one of those perfect moments when everything stands still, and it’s peaceful and quiet. A love as he had never imagined he could feel expanded his heart to four times its size and tears of joy wet his eyes.
Hugo’s incoming steps brought Max back to the present.
“There’s a detective downstairs,” the doorman announced, shoulders lowered and a dreary expression on his face.
“Escort him up.” Max looked at his daughter peacefully sleeping in his embrace and realized that Wilson was right. Whatever was going to happen next, he didn’t want his baby to be present for it. He turned to Vivienne, who had silently kept to the side. “Can you take her?”
“Sure.” Vivienne took Amber Rose from his arms and cradled her gently against her soft chest. “I’ll be in the guest room,” she said before leaving.
Max watched Vivienne and his daughter disappear behind the corner and couldn’t help but think that his place was with them, not wasting time talking with the police about something he knew nothing about.
Hugo came back with a man in tow.
“Mr. Prize,” the newcomer said, offering him his hand. “I’m Detective Welder, and I need to ask you a few questions.”
After shaking his hand, Max moti
oned for the man to take a seat. “Please.”
“Max, you might want to wait for your lawyer to arrive,” Wilson said. “She’s a few blocks from here.”
“It’s fine.” Max wanted the man out of his house as fast as possible. Waiting for his lawyer would only complicate things and give the detective the idea that Max had something to hide.
“Thank you.” Detective Welder lowered himself onto the sofa in front of Max and adjusted his trench coat. “A young woman was found dead a few hours ago—” He let the sentence trail as he studied Max.
Getting more comfortable, Max didn’t say anything but waited for the detective to talk again. In the meantime, Wilson walked to the opposite corner to make a phone call.
The man kept his intense gaze on Max as he reached for his trench pocket and produced his cell phone. “Did you know her?” The detective raised the cell phone to show Max the picture of a woman badly beaten.
Max’s heart lurched in his throat. He recognized the blonde on the screen, her name was Lauren, and Amber Rose had the same colors.
“I knew her,” Max said.
“How did you know the victim?” Detective Welder asked.
“We met a few times, almost a year ago,” Max answered.
He usually didn’t bed the same woman twice, but Lauren was persistent. She had snuck into several of his parties and found her way into his private rooms. He couldn’t be held accountable for having sex with willing women, could he? And Lauren had been more than willing. She had pursued him relentlessly, more so than other women.
“When was the last time you saw her?” Welder’s voice held an unpleasant undercurrent.
Max would’ve bet his company that the man already had all the answers.
“The last time I saw her was on my yacht.”
Despite all the money Max paid to his security detail, Lauren had showed up naked in his yacht’s bedroom.
“When was that?”
“As I said, almost a year ago. I don’t remember the date.” It was nine months ago. Max remembered the time because he had fired the entire security team. Jack had been hired soon after.
“And you didn’t meet again afterward.” The detective raised his voice at the end, making it sound like a question.
“No, we never met again.” Max had sent her home when he caught her dropping a pill in the cocktail she had insisted preparing for him after she had dismissed the yacht bartender.
“Was your relationship sexual?” Welder asked.
“We had sex but were never in a relationship.”
Hugo came back, stopping the detective from asking his next question. “Mrs. Lanetti is here, Mr. Prize.”
Max waved at the woman waiting behind his doormen. “Please, come in.”
The lawyer’s stiletto heels echoed in the large room as Mrs. Lanetti made her grand entrance. The detective’s eyes widened at the sight of the beautiful woman who looked like an actress. People tended to underestimate the lawyer because of her looks, but Max had hired her because she was the smartest person he had ever met.
“Mr. Saints informed me that you are already collaborating with the police,” Mr. Lanetti said, disapproval evident in her clipped tone and straight posture.
“Please, take a seat, Mrs. Lanetti.” Max pointed at the sofa beside the detective’s.
The lawyer sat with the elegance and grace of a ballerina, bending her closed legs to one side. “Is my client accused of something?” she asked the detective.
The man appraised her with a long gaze. “No, he isn’t,” he answered, standing. “But I have one more question.”
The lawyer said, “No more questions tonight.”
Max rolled his hand. “I’ll answer one final question.”
“Mr. Prize—” Mrs. Lanetti gave him a hard stare.
“It’s okay,” he said to her before turning to the detective. “Go ahead.”
“Where were you between last night and the first hours of the morning?” the man asked.
“You don’t need to answer,” Mrs. Lanetti said.
Hugging the back of the couch with one arm, he tilted his head. “I went to a party, then came back home. This morning, I went to work, as usual. Plenty of people can testify they saw me.”
The detective nodded. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Prize. Don’t leave town. We might have more questions for you.” When Hugo made to escort him out, he said, “I know the way, thank you,” leaving the room.
15
Vivienne made sure that Amber Rose was deep asleep before placing her on the bed. Not having a crib where the baby could rest, Vivienne had propped two pillows in the middle of the bed and positioned the baby in between, so that she wouldn’t roll and fall off the mattress.
Diapers and formula were running low, and the baby could use another change of clothes. Vivienne exited the guest bedroom now converted into a nursery and went looking for Hugo.
As she entered the hallway, she saw the doorman disappearing around the corner and followed him into the living room. While Wilson took a phone call, Max talked to a striking woman who smelled like a she-panther and looked strangely familiar to Vivienne. She tiptoed to Hugo, but Max motioned for Vivienne to sit by his side.
“You should’ve waited for me,” the woman said to Max, shaking her blond mane. Her icy-blue eyes followed Vivienne’s progress into the room, making her feel as if she were an insect under a magnifying glass.
“He only wanted me to confirm what he already knew.” Max, too, kept his eyes on Vivienne. While the woman’s stare felt like a frosty caress, Max’s warm gaze melted her heart.
When Vivienne hesitated, Max subtly patted the cushion, and she lowered herself to the couch, keeping some distance from him. His hand remained between them, not touching her, but close enough that she could feel his warmth.
“So, this is the nanny,” the woman said, her hard stare now focused on Max’s hand that had ever so slightly moved toward Vivienne’s leg. Still not touching, though.
“Vivienne, this is Mrs. Lanetti, my lawyer,” Max said, and Vivienne remembered why the woman had looked familiar.
Mrs. Lanetti was defending Max against that woman who had sued him for millions of dollars. Wrongful termination and hostile work environment were the indictments against Prize Games. The lawyer’s face was plastered on all the local newspapers, and she had also appeared on TV several times.
Max continued the introductions. “Mrs. Lanetti, this is Vivienne Bosch, who has most graciously agreed to look after my daughter—”
“She isn’t your daughter until the DNA test confirms it,” Mrs. Lanetti interrupted him.
“Amber Rose is my daughter.” Max tensed.
Vivienne could feel his energy changing, coiling like a predator ready to attack.
“The baby isn’t legally yours until proved.” Mrs. Lanetti’s voice was as frosty as her gaze.
“Our dragons recognized each other, and that’s all the proof I need. Nothing else matters,” Max said.
Mrs. Lanetti shook her head. “I would agree with you if we lived in a world where only shifters existed. Since we don’t, we’ll have to defer to human laws since the mother of the child was mortal.”
“Amber Rose’s mother was human?” Vivienne couldn’t help but ask, wondering if she had immediately connected with the baby girl because she was a half-breed like her.
“She was,” Max answered.
Wilson stepped closer to the couch. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Stamper is coming up, and he has some news.”
Hugo left. The ding of the elevator echoed from the foyer, and a moment later, the doorman walked back in, accompanied by a middle-aged man wearing a trench coat that screamed private detective from a mile away.
Had the situation not been serious, Vivienne would have found the detail of the PI’s trench coat amusing. The man looked exactly like a private detective from a crime show. Bald, with a ruddy complexion, and a pair of crooked glasses perched on his aquiline nose.
“Why Max?” Vivienne couldn’t help but ask.
“Because the victim had recently given birth to a baby girl and someone dropped her from a great height,” the private investigator answered. “She was badly beaten before her fall, and the pathologist found animal marks consistent with dragon talons on her body.”
“Max isn’t the only dragon in Seattle.” Vivienne looked around, meeting Wilson’s blank stare.
Wilson sighed. “There are a few of us, but Max is the only one who met the victim, and it turns out they had a daughter together.”
“Are you sure Amber Rose is the victim’s daughter?” Vivienne asked.
“The DNA will confirm it, but Amber Rose looks like Lauren,” Max said. “And there are other things—”
The lawyer interrupted him. “How did the press get hold of that information?” Her tone was as judgmental as her sharp gaze which drilled a hole on the PI’s face.
“I can answer that question,” Max said, drawing everyone’s attention back to him. “It was Louise Dortmund.”
“How can you be so certain that it was her?” Vivienne asked, angling her body toward Max.
“It’s what Louise does,” Wilson answered for Max.
“Did she leak the information to make you look bad?” Vivienne remembered the reporter asking the lawyer questions. “But why was Dortmund called to speak about the victim’s case?”
“It’s complicated.” Max leaned his head against the back of the couch. He sounded and looked tired. “And personal. Louise Dortmund and I have history.”
Vivienne must have bristled because Max added, “Not that kind of history.”