Catherine's hands curled into fists at her sides. She did not want to be here. After what had passed between them that morning, after the heat, the restraint, and the almost… this was what he brought her to?
Marcus' Warm Loaf—that was the name of the bakery. Marcus was Maximilian's firstborn's name.
What was he trying to do?
She was about to turn and walk out when Maximilian caught her hand. Not her wrist. Her hand. Their fingers slid together naturally, intimately, as if it had always been that way.
Catherine stiffened and tried to pull free, but he did not release her. Instead, he stepped closer and interlocked their fingers firmly, his thumb pressing against her knuckles in quiet reassurance.
She was ready to protest harder… until he looked at her.
His blue eyes were sharp. Certain. Decided.
And something about that look poured cold water over the fire of her rage.
Maximilian led her straight toward Charlotte.
