The Billionaire Playboy's Regret (Lark and Max)

Lark felt hand snaking around her middle and hugging her from behind and she shot a startled look over her shoulder.

"You're supposed to be in the chair."

"Nurse told me to get up and walk around a bit." Max's voice was warm in her ear. "Chère, rumor has it the Hoffman family are drunk." He chuckled as she stumbled against his frame.

"I am, we are," she snorted. "Mom got tired of refilling one flask, so she got me my own," she tapped the pocket of her dress. "The best thing about this dress is the deep pockets.

"The best thing about the dress is the woman wearing it," Max kissed her temple. "Why are you drinking? Is today so hard? How can I help?"

"Nana Prue had a bunch of last wishes and one of them was for Dad to be drunk the day of her funeral and she always told me to never let a sad man drink alone. I think she was preparing me for today."

"It is possible." He said as she leaned her head back and rested it on his shoulder. "There are a lot of people here." "Mom pointed out there are a lot of men over the age of fifty coming to pay respects," she giggled. "Look around. It's weird."

"Hey," Max pointed off in the distance, "isn't he the guy who chased her a couple weeks back with the diamond?"

"It is. He and another guy got into a shoving match," she pointed to a man glaring at him from far across the room. "Fallon managed to find out on the cruise, Nana spent opposite nights in their cabins." Her giggle was followed by a snort and a hiccup.

"Your father took a lot of delight in telling your grandfather how his mom probably f****d at least eighty percent of the men in this funeral home and probably even some of it's past clients."Stop reading the wrong and incomplete storyline, jo b ni b.com has the correct and complete book. "He didn't!" she turned around completely to look up into Max's eyes. She traced his jaw and the thin groomed beard he was wearing with her nails. "I like this look."

"I'm glad you do. I have a little fantasy of turning the inside of your thighs red with it."

"Max!" her eyes widened at his bold teasing. "You just had a heart attack. You're not allowed." "You can sit on my face."

"Pretty sure it's against the rules."

"Pretty sure overall it's inappropriate talk for a funeral home," Ollie popped over his shoulder.

"Jesus Ollie, you're starting to piss me off with your constant bouncing in and around me," Max griped. "I get you're happy about being Santiago's little woman now but you're freaking me out with this meerkat routine."

"Did you know Mom cornered him and asked him when he intends to do with me? I told them he wanted to marry me, but he said nothing to her or Dad. Mom flat out asked him his intentions and he said he has to clear up some other matters before he proposes."

"What other matters?" Max grunted.

"I think it has to do with the weird artist lady who uses poo." Ollie grinned. "His sister is also finally back on American soil so maybe my time is coming up after he cleans up his literal s**t relationship."

"Gross." Lark reached into her pocket and pulled out her flask and took a sip.

"What are you doing?" Ollie swiped the container and sniffed it. "Bourbon?"

"Yup. Nana Prue insisted." She giggled as Ollie sipped it and held it away from Max.

"No Max. You can't have any liquor at all because you're sick," Ollie sang the last word as if enjoying her brother's misery. "You do know once I'm all healed up, I'll be able to do whatever I want again."

"No, you can't. They put a rubber patch on a deflated bike tire. Don't you remember your ugly bike when we were kids and you kept having to put air in the tire even though you patched it?" Ollie mocked him. "Your heart works but it isn't going to let you run marathons."

"Yes, it will," Max grinned. "Already talked to my cardiologist." He looked straight into Lark's eyes, "he told me I could run all the marathons I wanted so long as I properly prepare and stretch well before hand." She shivered as she remembered their conversation on marathon s*x. "Max."

"Again, not appropriate for a funeral home," Ollie slipped the flask back into Lark's pocket. "Though neither is this. And why are there so many leathery men here? I feel like I'm at a George Hamilton convention."

"Grady thinks his mom boinked most of them," Johan's voice cut into the conversation. "He used the word boinked. He's wasted by the way, Lark. Your mother and he are sitting in the chapel waiting for the rest of the people to finish paying their respects and they're giggling like fools."

"Really?"

"Yes. Bobbie tried to bring them coffee and Everly told her to get the devil's brew out of the church of Nana Prue." Johan snorted. "I've never heard coffee be called the devil's brew. Olivier is, by the way, as wasted as Grady. He has his own flask. He shared some with me."

"Everyone is wasted here?" Max questioned in awe as Lark giggled and snuggled against him.

"I came to a decision," Johan said suddenly letting them all know how drunk he was. "Nana Prue wasn't a coward. She faced everything head on. I'm telling Gracie about me and Ollie."

Ollie smacked him in the chest. "You can't!"

"I am. I don't know what she is to me or how long I'll have with her, but I know I need to be my true authentic self with her the way Nana Prue shamelessly accepted herself. Ever since we discussed it in front of her laying comatose, it's been sitting wrong with me. I'll let her know she can't tell anyone else but

I need her to know I'm not going to keep secrets." "Do you think she'll tell Santiago?" Ollie made a face.

"I don't know. I'm trusting her to keep my secret. I trust her. I can't wait for her to wake up." "The doctor says it could be days, weeks or even months, if she wakes at all." Ollie sighed. "And I'll be there when she does."

"You have it bad," Lark laughed at him from the safe embrace of Max's arms.

"He does." Fallon popped her head under Johan's arm and wrapped her arm around his waist. "Mom sent me in to get you, Lark. Dad and Olivier are both laughing so hard she's worried Dad is going to pee himself. She said something about a man's prostate when he's over fifty not being the stuff dreams are made of."

"Great, one more thing to look forward to as I age," Max grunted and then made a face as his nurse came barrelling towards them pushing a wheelchair. "I'll give fifty grand to whichever of you manages to get this whacky nurse to leave me the hell alone for the rest of the day. She sent me over here to tell you I needed to leave as soon as the chapel service was done."

Lark kissed his lips softly. "I want the cash."

"What?" Max appeared confused as Lark looked at the nurse.

"Hi. I can take this." Lark took the wheelchair right from the nurse's hands. "We're heading into the chapel for the services and then I will personally deliver Max to the hospital." When the woman started to argue Lark patted her, "don't worry. I know all his tricks and even though he thinks he can manipulate me, I'm onto him." She tapped her temple making wide drunken eyes at the nurse. "If it means we have to call in the security team to force him into the car I will do it. Oh, but don't leave because I still need you to check his vitals after the service and before I drag him kicking and screaming back to the hospital." Without waiting for the protesting woman to respond she began wheeling Max in the direction of the chapel. "Hey, my love," Max grunted as she bounced his knee off a door frame. "What did you mean I manipulate you?"

"You do. All the time. You even bought me a house near my parents so I would move in with you. Everyone knows. It's okay."

"I didn't do it to be manipulative." He said frowning up at her, his neck craned to look as she pushed him. "Yeah, you did!" She shrugged. "I love you Max. It doesn't matter. The same way you accept me for being bitchy, I accept you for being coercive."

"I bought the house because I thought you were like me and didn't want to waste any more time apart. The timing was right since it went up for sale. I would live there alone until you're ready, Lark. If you're not ready, I can wait. I know I said a bunch of really loopy s**t this week but none of it was meant to force you to be with me."

She made a face, "Max you can't blame the drugs for all your behaviours. You weren't hopped up on pain killers when you argued with the medical team and then said you'd only agree if I married you within a month. Even now you're grumpy about the nurse because you're not getting your own way. You offered me fifty thousand dollars to ditch her. You're used to spending money or throwing tantrums to get what you want. If that isn't the definition of manipulation, I don't know what is."

"You think I was bribing you."

"Well, what else was it?"

"I thought I was giving you what you wanted," he said quietly. "When we were kids and you would play with your dolls or we would play house, you always said you wanted to have a big family and live right next door to your parents. I thought I was giving you what you wanted, Lark, not extorting you. You don't really want to marry me, do you?"

She tumbled over her feet at his quiet words and met his gaze, suddenly wishing she wasn't as drunk as she was." Everything is happening really fast, but I do want to marry you."

He stared at her sadly, "I don't think you do, chère." He reached a hand up to cup her cheek. "I think my heart attack made me see things differently, in that I didn't want to waste any more time in being apart from you however I genuinely believed you felt the same. Man," he dropped his hand from her confused face and sighed, "my ego really is something else, isn't it? Here I thought I was doing something special for our future, but I was putting my feelings on you. My excitement to spend forever with you isn't yours, is it?"

"Max," Lark's eyes glistened with tears as he studied her intently. "No, you're wrong. I love you. You didn't put anything on me."

"Yes. I did. I," he shook his head sadly, "I am so sorry, Lark. What I thought were gifts to sweeten the pot you presumed were bribes. I should have known better. I apologize."

She wanted to reassure him she did want to marry him but then a crash sounded from near the front of the chapel and Everly came to grab her by the hand.

"I swear Lark, if she were alive, I'd kick Prue's ass for suggesting he needed to be drunk today. What was

I thinking listening to her. I need you to help me get him sober. Please." Her mother's pleading filtered through the confusion she was feeling as she looked over her shoulder at Max, sitting forlornly in his wheelchair, watching her get dragged away. What had she done?