In a bid not to appear nervous, Darcy asked, 'So, what charity is benefiting from this function?'
Max glanced down at her. 'Numerous charities-I've nominated one I run with my brother.'
Darcy looked at Max, wondering again about his relationship with his brother, but she found herself distracted by his clean-shaven jaw and the white line of his scar that gave her a small jolt every time she saw it.
Just then a gong sounded and the crowd started to move into another room.
Max explained, with a cynical tinge to his voice, 'They'll get the charity auction and the posturing out of the way now, so that they can get on with the really important stuff.'
Max let go of her hand so she could sit down, and Darcy smiled politely at the man next to her. When Max took the seat next to hers she said, 'You mean the wheeling and dealing? The real reason why people are here?'
He looked at her approvingly. 'I'll make a proper cynic of you yet.'
Darcy felt a little hollow. She didn't need Max to make her a cynic. Her parents' spectacular break-up had gone a long way to that end already. Not to mention this pseudo-engagement.
She thought of something then, and looked at Max. 'You said to Montgomery that we'd be getting married in two weeks?'
He looked at her. 'We will. I've arranged for a special licence.'
Darcy felt as if she was drowning a little. 'Is it really necessary to go that far?'
Max nodded. 'It's just a piece of paper, Darcy. Neither of us really believes in marriage, do we?'
For a moment Darcy wasn't sure what she believed. She'd always sworn she'd avoid such a commitment, but she knew deep inside that some small part of her still harboured a wish that it could be different. Buying the ring today had tapped into it. And she hated it that this weakness was becoming evident here, in front of Max, under that gold gaze.
She forced a brittle smile. 'No, of course not. With our histories we'd be mad to expect anything more.' And she needed to remember that-especially when Max's touch and kisses scrambled her brain.
To take her mind off that she looked around and took in the extreme opulence. Even though her parents had always been well off-apart from her father's recessionary blip-she'd never moved in circles like this. Except for her time at Boissy. She grimaced at that memory, wondering if any of her old Boissy classmates were here. It was quite likely. This was definitely their stomping ground. Some of the offspring of Europe's most prominent royal families had been at the school.
The auction started and it was mesmerising. The sheer amounts being bid escalated well into the millions.
After one bid she gasped. 'Did someone really just buy an island?' Max's mouth quirked and Darcy immediately felt gauche. 'Don't laugh at me. I haven't been to anything like this before.'
There was a lull after the last few bids and he reached for her hand and lifted it up, turning it so that he could press a kiss to her palm. Darcy's heart-rate accelerated and she tried to pull her hand back, but he wouldn't let go, those eyes unnervingly direct on hers.
Feeling more and more discomfited, she whispered tetchily, 'We need to set some rules for an acceptable amount of PDAs. I wouldn't have thought you were a fan.'
Inwardly, Max reacted to that. Normally he wasn't. At all. He hated it when lovers tried to stake some kind of a public claim on him. But every time he touched Darcy he felt her resistance even as she melted against him. It was a potent mix of push and pull, and right now he wanted to touch her.
'You're big on rules and boundaries, aren't you?' He kept her hand in his when she would have pulled away, fascinated by the way colour washed in and out of her face so easily.
Her mouth tightened. 'They're necessary-especially when one is trying to be professional.'
Max chuckled, surprised to find himself enjoying being here with her so much. It had been a long time since he'd seen anyone interested in a charity auction. 'I don't think I need to tell you our professional boundaries are well and truly breached.'
She hissed at him. 'As if I'm not aware of that. Do I need to remind you that if it wasn't for this crazy marriage farce I'd be long gone by now?'
Something inside Max went cold. She would be gone because of what had happened in his office that night. He didn't doubt it. But Max knew now that he would have felt compelled to try and persuade her to stay...or to seduce her properly. She'd set a fire alight that night, and a very unwelcome and insidious suspicion occurred to him. Had he on some level wanted to keep her at all costs? Precipitating his flashbulb idea of marrying her?
Panic washed through him and he handed her hand back. 'You're right. We don't want to overdo it-no one would believe it.'
The sudden hurt that lanced Darcy made her suck in a breath. Of course they wouldn't believe it. Because why on earth would someone like Max-a golden god-be with someone like her?
She got up jerkily and Max frowned.
'Darcy-wait. I didn't mean it like-'
But she cut him off with a tight smile and muttered something about the bathroom, making her escape.
Everyone was standing up now and moving, starting to go back out to the main ballroom, where a world-famous band were about to play a medley of their greatest hits. She found a blissfully empty bathroom off the main foyer and looked at herself in the mirror with horror.
In spite of Max's cruel words she was flushed, and her eyes looked wide and bright enough to be feverish. Just because he'd held her hand? Pathetic.
She ran the cold water and played it over her wrists, as if that could douse the fire in her blood. Damn Max anyway. He shouldn't have the power to hurt her.
Sounds came from outside-voices. She quickly dried her hands and left just as some women were coming in on a wave of expensive perfume. They were all chattering, and stopped abruptly as soon as they saw her.
Darcy pinned a smile on her face and tried not to let the fact that they'd obviously been discussing her intimidate her.
* * *
As she approached the ballroom again Darcy saw Max standing at the main door, hands in his pockets. He looked...magnificent. Hateful. Proud. But also apart. Like a lone wolf. Good. A man like him didn't deserve friends. And that just made Darcy feel horrible.
He turned around and saw her and she could almost feel the place where the cold water had run on her wrists sizzle.
He frowned as she came closer. 'Are you okay?'
Now she felt silly for rushing off. 'Fine. Needed to go to the bathroom.' She thought a little despondently that his usual lovers probably didn't suffer the mundane bodily functions of mortals-and certainly never mentioned them to him.
He took her arm. 'We're done now. Let's go.'
Suddenly the thought of going back to his apartment with him loomed like a spectre in the dark. Anger at him pierced her, and anger at herself-for letting him hurt her so easily.
A rogue voice made her dig her heels in and say, 'Actually, I'm not ready to go yet.'
He looked at her, not a little stunned. He was not used to people saying no to him.
She tipped up her chin and took a moment of inspiration from the music nearby. 'I like this band. I want to dance.'
Now Max looked horrified. 'Dance?' Clearly he never indulged in such pedestrian activities.
She arched a brow, enjoying needling Max a little. 'Dance, Max. You know-a recreational social activity designed to bring people together in a mutually satisfactory way.'
Clearly angry now, Max moved closer to Darcy and pulled her into his body. 'I can do a "mutually satisfactory" activity, dolcezza, if that's what you're looking for-but it's not called dancing.'
Darcy's breath hitched. She should have known better than to tease him. She was serious. 'A dance, Max. That's what I'm talking about.'
He lifted a hand and cupped her jaw, for all the world the besotted fiancé. She cursed. She was playing right into his hands.
'Fine, then. Let's dance.'
Max took her hand in a firm and slightly too tight grip that told her of his irritation and led her onto the dance floor just in time for a slow number. Darcy cursed herself again for opening her big mouth.
He turned and gathered her close and she had to put her arms around his neck. He looked down at her and said mockingly, 'Forgive me. I had no idea you were so eager to make our charade look even more authentic.'
Darcy snorted, and then went still when one of Max's hands moved lower, to just above her buttocks, pressing her even closer. She closed her eyes in frustration for a moment-as if she needed to be reminded that he resented this PDA as much as she did.
And then she felt his hand brush some hair back off her cheek and he said, in a different tone of voice that set off flutters in her belly, 'Darcy, look at me.'
Reluctantly she opened her eyes, far too aware of his lean, hard body pressed against hers.
'I think you misunderstood me before... I meant no one would believe it because I don't usually indulge in any kind of overt affection with lovers in public.'