Chapter 81 Behind Bars
Veronica's POV:
Theo was getting ready to go out to the museum when I decided to have a little fun with him.
I'd been feeling playful all morning... that intoxicated energy our sex was still there in me. And I wanted to see if I could break through Theo's will again and crack the 'self-control image that he was maintaining so effortlessly.
So I chose the white sleeveless dress. It was very revealing, the neckline plunging deeper than anything I'd normally wear in public. The fabric was thin and clinging, and it barely reached mid-thigh, showing off my legs in a way that this dress was more bedroom than museum-appropriate.
White was his favorite color, he'd mentioned once. He'd said it as pure, clean, associated with the crown chakra and spiritual awakening. I wondered if he'd still find it so spiritual when I was wearing it like this.
I walked out of the bathroom and watched Theo's reaction with satisfaction.
His green eyes widened when he looked at me, his gaze traveling from my face down the length of my body and back up again. His mouth opened slightly, like he'd forgotten how to form words.
"Don't tell me you're coming out in that," he finally managed. He looked strained.
"Of course I am," I said innocently, batting my eyelashes at him while biting my lower lip in a way I knew drove men crazy.
"God, Veronica... you're so hot..." Theo let out a long sigh and pulled me closer to his body, his hands settling on my waist. "You're killing me."
I felt a thrill of victory. Theo, the epitome of self-control... was undone by a white dress and some strategic flirting.
"Come on, Theo," I said, running my hands up his chest. "You've probably seen that damn museum a thousand times already. You're from Manhattan, after all. We could stay here instead..."
"I just wanted to see it with you," he said, and there was something earnest in his expression that made my teasing falter slightly. "You know, every time I go there, I find that there's something new I'd earlier missed. Something I walked past a dozen times without really seeing. It will be interesting to experience it with you beside me."
"So quirky," I chuckled at him, shaking my head. "Yet you make it all charming somehow. How is that possible?"
He smiled sweetly, that gentle expression that always made my chest warm. "Maybe people have generic ways of having fun, but trust me, there's more we need to see. More ways to experience beauty and meaning beyond the obvious."
"You're such a..."
His phone rang, cutting off whatever flirtatious comment I'd been about to make.
Theo pulled it from his pocket, glanced at the screen, and frowned. "Unknown number," he muttered, but answered anyway. "Hello?"
I watched his expression change... confusion and then exasperation, then concern, then weary resignation.
"Max, why are you calling me from this unknown number?" He paused, listening. "Don't tell me you've messed up with someone in a bar again."
Theo pressed his temples with his free hand, the universal gesture of someone dealing with a headache they'd dealt with too many times before. "I'm coming there soon. Hang on."
He hung up and looked at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.
"Why am I not even surprised?" he said, more to himself than to me.
"What happened?" I asked, my playful mood evaporating instantly.
"Nothing unusual, trust me." Theo was already grabbing his jacket, checking for his wallet and keys. "It's just Max. He got himself imprisoned after hitting someone in a bar."
"What?!" I almost shouted, my heart suddenly racing for entirely different reasons. "He's in jail? Here? In New York?"
"Apparently, he flew out without telling anyone," Theo said, heading for the door. "And apparently decided to spend his evening picking fights. Come on, we need to go."
"But I should change..."
"No time. Just grab a jacket or something."
I threw on a long cardigan that covered most of the dress and followed Theo out, my mind reeling. Max was here. In New York. In jail. After hitting someone in a bar.
Why was he even here? And who had he hit?
The police station was exactly as depressing as you'd expect... fluorescent lights, uncomfortable plastic chairs, the smell of stale coffee and human desperation. Theo spoke to the officer at the desk with practiced calm, and I stood beside him feeling increasingly anxious in my ridiculous dress, even with the cardigan covering it.
"Ashford, Theodore, here for Ashford, Maxwell," Theo was saying, showing his ID.
The officer checked his computer, made some notes, and gestured toward a waiting area. "He's still being processed. Someone will bring him out shortly."
We sat in those uncomfortable chairs, and I couldn't stop fidgeting. My knee bounced up and down. My hands twisted together in my lap.
"He does this sometimes," Theo said quietly, noticing my distress. "Gets into trouble when he's feeling overwhelmed. Usually it's just bar fights that get broken up before the cops arrive, but occasionally..." He gestured around us.
"You don't seem worried."
"I am," Theo corrected. "But I'm also used to it. Max processes emotions... differently than I do. I meditate. He fights."
Twenty minutes later, a door opened, and officers led Max out.
My heart broke to see him in handcuffs.
His hair was messed up, his shirt torn and bloodstained. His knuckles were split and swollen, bruises already forming on his jaw where someone had presumably hit back.
But it was his eyes that got me... blue and hollow and full of something that looked like self-loathing.
Then he saw me.
His eyes widened.
What are you doing here?" he asked, roughly.
"What am I..." I stood up, anger suddenly replacing my concern. "What are YOU doing here, Max? You're supposed to be in California. Why are you in New York? Why are you in jail?"
"Long story."
"We've got time," Theo said dryly, standing and moving to speak with the officer. "What are the charges?"
"Assault," the officer said. "The victim wants to press charges. Says he was attacked without provocation in a VIP lounge."
"That's bullshit," Max growled. "He was..."
"Max," Theo said sharply. "Stop talking."
He turned back to the officer with that diplomatic charm he could pull out when needed. "What's the bail?"
"Five thousand."
"I can post that now. Card okay?"
While Theo handled the paperwork and financial arrangements, I moved closer to Max. He was still in handcuffs, standing with an officer nearby, and he looked so different from the confident, cocky man who'd taken me to that cabin. He looked defeated. Lost.
"Who did you hit?" I asked quietly.
Max's jaw tightened. He glanced at the officer, then back at me. "I'll tell you later. When we're out of here."
"Max..."
"Please, Veronica." His voice cracked slightly. "Just... not here. Not now."