The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (37 page)

Martin closed his eyes but he was still smiling. “It’s good to know that things have their own way of working out.”

I stilled. “What do you mean?”

“I’m tired now, Charlotte,” Martin said without opening his eyes. “I’ll rest for a bit, I think.”

I had a sudden urge to interrogate the old man because I was certain that there was something else he meant with that statement but I held myself back and slid off the bed, grabbing the remote to turn the TV volume down.

“Alright. I’ll wake you when the rest comes in for dinner,” I told him gently, pressing a kiss on his forehead. 

I had just settled in the couch with a food magazine when the phone buzzed.

“Mr. Pelletier is here to see Mr. Maxfield,” Kurt from the security desk said. “I’ve advised him that he’s not allowed access but he said he wanted to speak with you.”

I sighed and put the magazine down. I didn’t really want to deal with Francis but someone had to do it. Besides, I was yet to give him a piece of my mind. “Please tell him I’ll meet him in the lounge in a few minutes. Thanks, Kurt.”

I paged Sandy so she could keep an eye on Martin while I stepped out for a few minutes. 

I took my time making my way to the lounge, wondering exactly what he wanted from me. There was a lot that I wanted to say to him—mostly unpleasant things—but I had to take care because asshole or not, he was still a part of Brandon’s family.

And I thought I was done with all this family drama when my father died. 

His back was turned when I came into the snazzy but empty lounge area in this floor where all of the luxury hospital suites were located. The room offered lots of seating, a game area, a row of high-end vending machines and even a small reading corner complete with a large, well-stocked bookshelf.

“You look worse for the wear,” I remarked dryly when he turned around to face me. He was a bit bruised and scraped, his jaw unshaven and his hair messy.

His eyes narrowed at me. “I want to see Martin.”

I sat on one of the leather sectionals and crossed my legs. “Sorry but you can’t. Brandon had you banned and since Martin hasn’t particularly asked for you either, I figured he’s not that interested in seeing you himself.”

He snorted and started pacing in front of me. “I’m not surprised considering just how accurately Brandon would’ve relayed what really happened. He’s made it his lifelong mission to always make sure I look bad to the old man.”

I raised a brow. “Didn’t it ever occur to you that maybe you just do that yourself with no help whatsoever?”

Anger flashed in his eyes as his face tightened with restraint. “Martin has been more of a father to me than my own had ever been. I’ve lived my whole life trying to be everything the old man wanted me to be. It’s not my fault that Brandon has a problem with that.”

Martin might be fated for sainthood. He’s too good and honorable a person—and my soul will be damned for deceiving him.

A part of me sympathized with Francis—the fact that he seemed to be as much of a stray as I was that Martin picked up and looked after might have something to do with it—but I could easily tell that he was quick to deny accountability on his actions. I didn’t know the true cause of his rift with Brandon but my husband may have been right on point when he accused his cousin of owing no responsibility where he could use some.

“I can’t say it was Brandon’s fault either for losing it on you when you were talking about his father like he was already dead,” I pointed out, raising a brow at him. “It makes one wonder whether you worked hard to please the old man simply because you owed him that much or merely because you hope to gain everything he has to leave behind when his time comes.”

“I will not be a hypocrite and deny that I have an interest in taking on a bigger role in the company when the time is right,” he answered curtly. “But as for speaking as I did, I didn’t mean to imply that I already wished him dead because I don’t. I was getting very anxious and I rambled on. I would think, of all people, you would know what it’s like to blurt out something you didn’t really mean.”

I studied the man. 

I couldn’t tell for sure whether he was being sincere or merely playing me. I didn’t know the man all that well and even though I was usually an excellent judge of character, I couldn’t be sure about Francis. There was a lot brewing underneath the surface but the remorse in his eyes was either real or the result of excellent acting.

I sighed. “Yes, I can be a bit too candid sometimes but you know what I’m also really good at other than saying some outrageous things I don’t always mean? I apologize really well. Maybe you can try that.”

He smiled smugly. “Are you hinting at me to apologize to you?”

I raised my brows. “Why? For your rudeness? For your insults? I might be interested in your apologies if I actually care about what you said to me but I don’t, so save what few of them you can manage for when you really need them.”

He was quiet for a moment as he deliberated what to say next. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be an apology to me which was fine because I meant what I told him.

“I want to apologize to Martin,” he finally said.

I stood up and tucked my hands into the pockets of my white denim cut offs. “I’ll take it up to Martin. If he wants to see you, you’ll know.”

“Brandon isn’t going to allow that,” he said grimly.

“Brandon isn’t Martin’s father so I don’t imagine his preference will not stop the old man if he wants to see you,” I assured him a small smile. “And maybe when you do see Brandon next time, you could roll out one of your apologies his way so you two could stop fighting like a pair of juveniles.”

Francis laughed with no humor, his voice hollow and harsh. “Mine and Brandon’s issues go deeper than that, Charlotte. I don’t recommend asking him if you don’t want to get on his bad side.”

I smirked as I paused on my way out. “There is no good or bad side, Francis. There’s the truth and the lies. We all know what it’s like to do a reckless dance between the two.”

I left before my own guilt could give me away.

It used to be easier to do the right thing when I wasn’t living a lie myself but even with good intentions to dress them up, the truth about lies remained the same—they were dishonest and that made me feel like a terrible person.

I spent the rest of the afternoon reading and trying to shake off my negative thoughts. Yes, Brandon and I married to deceive Martin but if we  hadn't done it, I wouldn’t really have this chance to look after him when everyone was too busy to do so. I kept reminding myself of the good we could do with the bad we’d already done. 

When Martin stirred shortly after, I told him about Francis’s visit. The old man didn’t seem keen on discussing his nephew. He simply reassured me that when he’s ready to deal with Francis, he will call him. As much as I itched to ask what was between the two cousins, I didn’t press. It wasn’t my business and I didn’t want to stress Martin more than the topic already had.

At around five, Anna, Tessa and Mattie arrived, their arms loaded with take-out food. The sisters had been picking up their younger brother from school after they were done with their own classes and we would all keep Martin company and eat dinner together once Brandon arrived from the office. Jake usually made an appearance as well.

Martin complained loudly about the temptation of the the food we were enjoying while he was stuck with his doctor-prescribed diet but we all knew he was secretly pleased having everyone around.

“This isn’t quite working out like in the movies,” Tessa grumbled as she tried twisting off the cap of the sparkling apple juice bottle she’d been trying to open in the last five minutes. “Isn’t this supposed to just pop off and spray all over?”

Jake, who had just tossed a piece of barbecued pork into his mouth, went over to her and took the bottle. “It won’t spray like champagne, silly. And I won’t attempt opening it with your bare hands, if I were you, because the edges can be sharp.”

He grabbed a thick paper towel from one of the bags Anna was unloading and wrapped it around the bottle opening. “You gotta hold tight and twist without give or you’re just going to end up scraping your hand.”

“Like this?” Tessa asked, holding up her scratched and slightly bleeding palm.

Jake hissed an unintelligible curse before twisting the bottle open and setting it down quickly on the table. He grabbed Tessa’s hand and led her to the small sink by the kitchenette. He stuck her hand under the water and washed it with some soap while Tessa cringed and bit her lip, bravely enduring the sting of her wound.

“You okay, Tessa?” I asked as I rummaged through a first aid kit mounted on the wall and found a band-aid with antiseptic on it already.

“You could’ve just asked me, you know?” Jake gently scolded her before grabbing a paper towel and pressing it around her hand after turning off the water. “I would’ve taken care of it for you, Tess. But you can be such a stubborn brat.”

Tessa glared at him. “Calling me a brat isn't convincing me to trust you to take care of things, Jake.”

Jake took the band-aid I handed him and carefully pressed it over Tessa’s palm. “You can also trust me to point out to you when you’re being unnecessarily stubborn and unreasonable.”

Anna, who came over to look in on her sister’s injury, just snorted a laugh. “And you can trust her to shove it right back at you, Jake. Just because Tessa doesn’t blabber all the time, doesn’t mean she doesn’t have a good comeback to dish out to you.”

I grinned at Anna. “Yup. You’ve got to be careful with these silent types.”

Jake scowled at us after lowering Tessa’s freshly bandaged hand. “And you two aren’t helping. You’re just encouraging her to be as strong-willed as the two of you.”

Tessa punched him in the arm with her uninjured hand. “I’ve always been strong-willed. I’m just not excessively talkative like you.”

I wiggled my brows at Jake, fighting a laugh. “Burn. Now is a good time to shut up when you’ve got nothing else to say but stuff you’ll only regret later.”

Jake opened his mouth as if to protest but between Tessa glowering and Anna and I giggling, he closed it and just shook his head before stomping away.

“What’s going on?” Brandon said as he walked into the room and saw me and his sisters laughing.

My heart skipped a beat at the sight of him. He was in faded jeans and a gray V-neck shirt that snugly fit over his muscled build. The summer sun had brought out lighter streaks of his brown hair that they looked dark bronze in some angles.

“I’m congratulating myself on not having sisters,” Jake grumbled from the table where he went back to snacking on food he shouldn’t even be touching yet.

“I think the girls were ganging up on Jake here,” Martin said in amusement from his bed where Mattie sat with him with his homework.

“I’d hardly cut my own hand just to gang up on him,” Tessa retorted, rolling her eyes as we all headed back to the table.

Brandon smiled without sympathy for his friend as he made his way to me and lifted me slightly off the floor for a quick but hungry kiss.

I’d missed him all day and I couldn’t help it when my arms went around his neck as I kissed him back. My injuries have been healing nicely in the past several days that I only felt a minor discomfort with some of my larger movements even though the bruise on my midsection now resembled the inside of an avocado.

“I know it’s your honeymoon week but could you please wait until you get home and some of us have already eaten?” Anna grumbled with a roll of her eyes. “We aren’t exactly a captive audience, you know?”

Brandon laughed and lowered me back on the floor. My own cheeks blazed when I realized that everyone was giving us amused glances, even Mattie who ducked his head back into his book. Jake had a resigned look on his face as he closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Fair enough,” Brandon said as he pulled me toward the table. “I’m starving for actual food, even if my wife looks like a feast.”

I jabbed him on the side just as Jake groaned loudly.

“Must you really ruin our appetite, Brand?” he complained crossly which only amused Brandon even more.

“I think he’s intent on rubbing it in our faces just how sickeningly happy his married life is,” Tessa added with a smirk, handing us our plates and raising a brow at her brother. “We get it, you know?”

I wasn’t really sure if anyone got it, whatever it was.

We’ve been married almost a week but Brandon and I were yet to conclude what we started on our wedding night.

Much of our time had been spent at the hospital in the last couple of days that by the time we get home late at night, we were so tired we just fell into each other’s arms and cuddled until we drifted off to sleep. 

The most we managed was some heavy kissing and touching and it wasn’t for lack of trying on my part. Brandon seemed to have gotten a grip on his self-control and was intent on not pressuring me until I was ready. 

I felt uncomfortable saying the words out loud that I used my body to do more than suggest—such as straddling his hips when I was just in my panties and a thin tank top and pressing against his hot, hard length—but Brandon would lift me off of him and pull me to his side, gentling his kisses and resting his hand on my cheek where it was in no danger to rip my clothes off.