Not to mention that exhaustion thing. Building a house?
Not for the faint of heart, especially on the schedule they had.
It was neat seeing Max respond to the other members of their group, too. He was the unquestionable leader in any situation, but he took direction when he didn’t know how to do something. And he did not know how to build a house.
He’d provided the building materials for the house they were working on, though. All of them. Apparently the cargo hold of his plane had been full and he’d had others shipped earlier.
She loved this man and even if he never told her he returned the feelings, she knew he would never walk away from her.
Not after building a house for a family in need to commemorate their wedding.
Maxwell critically surveyed the sturdy, simple three-room house.
Two small bedrooms, a slightly large living area and tiny bathroom would house a family of three generations and six people. He wanted to add a second story, but the charity coordinators had been clear. They had more houses to build and the family was thrilled. They’d been sharing a smaller space with another family of five.
He had to rethink how much of BIT’s profit he donated to charity.
He didn’t have to rethink his decision to marry Romi. Any woman who would want to do something so worthwhile for their honeymoon was a keeper.
For life.
And that didn’t even scare him a little.
He hadn’t said the words, but what others could describe the way he felt about her? The way he just felt happy to be next to her? The way he wanted to make everything better in her life? The way even his own mother stood second to his need to protect Romi’s feelings?
He’d called her lyubimaya and he was almost ready to tell her what that meant.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
THE BEDROOM WAS dappled with afternoon light as Romi lay naked on her and Maxwell’s bed. Naked in more ways than one as she waited for her husband to join her for the afternoon tryst she’d set up.
Lying beside her on the bed were the two blue silk scarves.
She’d decided on her honeymoon that the time had come to show Maxwell she trusted him completely.
Footfalls made by Italian leather against hardwood announced his arrival.
“Now that is a beautiful tableau to come home to.” He stood in the doorway, his eyes fixed on Romi.
She didn’t think he’d even seen the blue silk yet.
She lifted it toward him. “I’m glad to hear you think so.”
He stopped in his forward progression as he took in what she held in her hand. His pewter gaze locked on the silk for long, silent seconds before shifting to her face. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“But I’m still that same guy. The one who blackmailed you into marriage.”
“The one who tried to blackmail me. You know why I married you Max and it wasn’t because of your empty threats.”
“They were not empty.”
“Are you so sure about that?” she asked, her tone soft with the love she had no desire to ever hide. “Because I’m not.”
“I’m not like your dad.”
“Oh, I know.” But for the first time, she thought maybe Maxwell wished he could be like Harry Grayson.
“And still you love me.”
“And trust you.”
He nodded toward the scarves. “Completely. Those say so.”
“Yes, they do.”
The lovemaking that followed was earth-shattering, but not because he brought her to the pinnacle of pleasure over and over again before allowing her body to complete the journey. And while she learned she absolutely loved being bound by him, that wasn’t why, either.
It was the tender way he touched her, the way he treated this like as important a gift as her virginity as her agreeing to marry him. None of which did her Corporate Tsar husband take for granted.
Romi walked into her childhood home, listening for voices.
Max had told her to see him here and she assumed they were having dinner with her dad.
She and Max had been back from their honeymoon for a month.
The charter school was taking shape and Maddie had been thrilled to find out that BIT would be making such a large yearly donation.
It was about half what Max had originally thought because after seeing the way he reacted to the people in need in Haiti, Romi had talked him into donating the rest to projects like the one they’d worked on.
He’d been so moved by the family moving into their new home, Maxwell had insisted on buying them all new bedding and cookware. He’d told them it was his way of honoring the woman who had married him.
Romi had cried. Unashamedly and unreservedly.
It had been an amazing moment.
She walked into the living room startled by the dearth of furniture. Some pieces still remained, but the sofa and her dad’s favorite leather armchairs were gone. Was he redecorating?