<b>Chapter </b>89
When it came to verbal sparring, Max had mastered the art of wounding <b>with </b><b>the </b>most nonchnt tone. If Alessia had a sharp tongue, it was certainly <b>thanks </b>to years of Max’s influence.
“You deliberately provoked Ileana, made her hate me was that one of your twisted little games again?”
“There’s only half a year left before you head home. Think of this as an appetizer, <b>in </b>case you’ve gotten toofortable these past two years and forgotten how to keep your ws sharp.”
“Well then, bon voyage.”
“Thanks.” Their words volleyed back and forth, neither yielding an inch. Both wore easy smiles and spoke in calm, even voices, but the chill in the air was
unmistakable.
Just as Alessia opened her mouth to say more, the sound of a serving cart approached. The waiter shouldered past her, unloading dishes onto the table.
“Sir, miss, here are your orders.”
The voice sounded oddly familiar. Alessia looked up and blinked in surprise.
“Ethan? What are you doing here?”
The waiter started at her words, eyes wide with shock, though his hands stayed steady as he set down the tes.
“Lessie?”
“Shouldn’t you be at the firm right now?” Karen had mentioned that, outside of ss and sleep, Ethan practically lived at his internship, barelying home even on
weekends.
Ethan forced a smile, eyes fixed on the tes as he arranged them.
“The firm’s quiettely. Thought I’d look for some part–time work.”
Alessia nodded, though she’d have to be an idiot to actually buy that story. Still, she let it slide.
“Oh–this is Max.” Her introduction was perfunctory at best, but Max just grinned.
“Of course. Firstborn son of the Tate family–I know the name.”
<b>Chapter </b><b>89 </b>
<b>They </b><b>were </b><b>the </b><b>same </b><b>age</b>, <b>and </b><b>back </b>when <b>their </b><b>families </b><b>were </b><b>evenly </b>matched. everyone <b>loved </bparing them. But since the Mortons <b>had </b><b>fallen </b><b>from </b><b>grace </b>people had conveniently forgotten there was once a Morton heir <b>who </b><b>could </b><b>hold </b>
his own.
“When you’re done, let’s head home together.” The way she said “done <b>with </b><b>work </b>made it clear she was talking to Ethan.
Ethan hid his surprise and nodded.
“Alright. I’ll get back to it, then.”
Alessia smiled and let him go about his work. Once Ethan wheeled the cart away, Max finally spoke, his tone sly.
“Big brother‘ just rolls off your tongue, doesn’t it?” His smile was perfectly practiced, but carried an undercurrent of mockery.
“Of course–he’s family, after all.” Alessia wasn’t about to let him have thest word. Whatever attitude he gave, she matched it, strength for strength.
After they’d gotten in their digs, it was time to move on.
“So, you’re back to start taking over Tate Holdings, huh?” Alessia asked, catching the glint of the steak knife.
“What’s this, giving your boyfriend a heads–up?”
“Yep. Taking you down sounds like fun.” She didn’t bother to hide her intent, and that only seemed to amuse Max.
“Still refusing toe back with me? Can’t bear to leave your boyfriend, or is it those half–brothers you’re so attached to?”
She shot him a look. “Keep going and you’ll ruin the fun.”
Max rolled his neck and said nothing more. At some point, he’d finished slicing her steak, sliding the te toward her.
“So–did Mr. Tate have any special ‘wee home‘ gifts for you?”
“He set me up with a blind date. Does that count?”
Alessia arched an eyebrow. “That’s very much his style.”
“Bet you’re d you escaped the Tate family, huh?”
“Funny you know that, yet still try to drag me back. Is ‘being impossible‘ your life philosophy?”
He let <b>the </b><b>conversation </b><b>drop </b>and <b>headed </b>to <b>the </b><b>restroom</b>. Alessia savored the
<b>digging </b>into dinner with gusto. Max might be <b>a </b><b>pain</b><b>, </b><b>but </b><b>he </b><b>had </b><b>great </b>taste every. dish hit the spot, not a single misstep on the table.