Page 129 of Maverick

"I am such a mess," I mutter to myself, staring at the ceiling. What am I going to do?

"I don't think you're a mess."

I scream, and fly off the couch, jumping over the coffee table, landing in a crouch. "Jesus fuck, Maverick. When did you get here? I almost peed my pants."

Maverick grins, and rubs his hand over his face. "Just now. Why was Nan laughing?"

"She won three grand from Connie playing poker. I didn't know she knew how to play poker."

His eyes widen. "She beat Connie? Fuck, she must be good. I've lost fifty grand to her in the last year."

"Fifty grand?" If he weren't a billionaire, maybe I'd be more worried about that number. But that's the equivalent of change in the couch cushions to him. "Is she good, or do you just suck?"

"Maybe a bit of both." He hesitates, then shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. It dies quickly though, and a guarded look comes over his face. "Trixie called me."

"And you came running home at three in the afternoon on a Tuesday?"

"Yeah."

"For what?"

Maverick, smart man that he is, doesn't miss the bite in my voice. "Why did you go by the club?"

"To get my job back, obviously."

A little muscle in his cheek twitches. It's kinda hot, actually, but I'm not going to let it distract me from this conversation. Who knows, maybe he's ready for it. And he's decided to do this the easy way, and have a conversation with me.

"You're not going back there. Ever."

Okay, so not the easy way. Lucky for him, I'm ready for hard. I slowly circle the table, and perch on the arm of the couch, feet on the cushions. He's standing at the end of the couch, fists clenched, watching me like a tiger in the wild, preparing to strike. Smart man.

"Was it when I agreed to move in here, do you think? Was that the moment?"

Confusion cracks the hard mask of his face. "The moment for what?"

"The moment you decided I wasn't a grown fucking woman, capable of making her own decisions? Was it then? Or maybe when I accepted that donation from you to hire more staff, you decided you'd paid for the right to make decisions for me. Maybe that was actually then."

Maverick's fists unclench, and he shifts uncomfortable, eyes darting across my face. "Cadence?—"

"No," I say quietly. "I will not play this game with you anymore. I've tried to talk to you about what happened at thatclub, and you've shut it down every time, so I need you to hear me when I say, I will not be in a relationship like this. I have successfully run my life for years. I built a not for profit myself. I worked every job I had to, from ice cream scooper to limo driver to pay my bills. I've experienced loss and grief. I've had my heart broken and I've broken hearts." I clasp my hands and lay them on my lap. "And if I knew then that agreeing to live here would make you look at me like I'm someone that needed saving, then I never would have come."

"You did need saving," he growls, running his hand through his hair. "You were living in the office at the fucking rescue."

"And?" I ask, raising a brow.

"What do you mean, 'and'? And nothing. That's bad enough."

I tilt my head, honestly confused. "Didn't you live in a single room with your brothers for years? They all talk about it you know, laughing about how tight it was, how you barely made ends meet. Why is it okay for all of you to do, but not Nan and I?" I hold up my hand, shutting down what I'm sure is his next objection.

"We were okay. Yeah, it wasn't the most comfortable circumstances, but we had food, and a little kitchen. We had a safe place to sleep and a good alarm system. It's more than a lot of people had. And I had a plan. A good one. Nan and I were a team, working together to find our footing. What about that sounds irresponsible to you? Really. I know it's not ideal, but what about it makes you think I'm a fool, or too stupid to make adult decisions?" A trickle of the hurt I'm trying to hide leaks into my voice, and he winces.

He takes a step closer, his knees pressing against the arm of the couch. "It's not about that, I promise you. I don't like that the two of you were living there, but I don't think you're a fool, or incapable."

"So you trust most of my decisions then? Just not the ones that involve working at your club. So I could go get a job at a different club, and you'd be fine with it?"

"No!" he nearly shouts, then bends over, gripping the arm of the couch. "Do we have to do this?" he asks tiredly. "Can't it be enough that I'm asking you to stop working there."

"But you didn't ask me, Mav. You dictated. You told me. You ordered me. Like I'm some puppy that needs training, instead of a grown woman with a little something between her ears. And I'm not okay with that." I stand on the couch, then step down to the floor and walk to him, stopping next to him. "I will never be okay with that."