My stomach reminded me I hadn’t had lunch and I silently told it to shut the hell up.

The movie had scarcely started before a young woman was being chased through the woods, the blood of her hacked up boyfriend covering her barely clad body when I felt Max’s presence hit the loft.

Although a part of me I was not listening to was glad he was there (simply because the movie was scaring the dickens out of me), I didn’t look at him. I kept my eyes fixed on the TV even as I felt the bed move when he sat on it and I heard one boot then the other hit the floor. The bed moved again and I stayed completely still and focused on the TV.

Max slid in behind me, his arm went around my middle and he pulled me into his hard body. With a forceful jerk I pulled myself forward and with an equally forceful jerk he hauled me right back.

I gave up and held myself completely still.

“Turn off the movie, Duchess.”

Oh, so now I was Duchess. Now, after he proved, like most – no all men (except Charlie and Steve) – that he was a world class jerk.

I didn’t move nor speak.

“Baby, turn it off.”

Now I was baby. Nice.

He sighed then he pressed closer to my back.

“It’s been a shit day.”

I stayed silent and watched the young, barely clad damsel come to a bloody end in the woods.

“Curtis knew someone wanted him dead.”

My body gave a small twitch at this news but I remained silent.

“He had death threats.”

I watched the screen and somehow, shortly after the nubile, young lady met her dastardly end, two other young, good-looking people were having somewhat raunchy sex in a cabin.

This, I knew from my experiences horror movie watching with Charlie, did not bode well. Sex was usually the last thing anyone did in a horror movie before their life was snuffed out with an axe, hatchet, a glove made out of long, razor-sharp blades or a common kitchen knife.

“Bitsy’s life has been threatened too.”

Thoughts of gloves made out of razor-sharp blades flew from my head, my body jerked and my head swiveled around to look at him.

“Curt didn’t tell anyone, he hired a PI,” Max continued.

I broke my silence and asked, “Is she going to be okay?”

“Mick’s set something up.”

I thought of Bitsy alone in that big house, unable to move around except in a wheelchair.

“I should go stay with her,” I declared to Max and his brows knit.

“What?”

I yanked out of his arm, rolled off the bed and threw down the pillow saying, “You’ll have to take me.”

“I’m not takin’ you to Bitsy’s.”

“Then I’ll call Arlene,” I stated as I threw open the door to the closet and turned on the light.

“Nina, get in here.”

I ignored him and walked to my chocolate colored cords on a hanger, pulling them off.

“Nina,” Max called and when I continued to ignore him and examine my sweater selection on the shelves I heard him mutter, “Jesus.”

I selected a cream colored, cable-knit but I barely pulled it from its position on the shelf before it was yanked out of my hand by Max. Then he tossed it on the shelf (now not folded which was a shame, Caroline was good at folding sweaters). Then, while I was still staring at the untidy sweater, my cords were yanked from my other hand and tossed on the floor.

Belatedly I turned to look up at Max and exclaimed, “Hey!”

He grabbed my hand, flipped the switch to the closet light as he pulled me out and then he closed the door.

I twisted my hand in his and snapped over the dying screams of (undoubtedly) the young lovers on the television, “Let go.”

“No, we’re gonna talk.”

“I think you said enough earlier.”

“Babe, I was pissed and I’ll admit I didn’t handle that very well.”

I felt my eyes narrow as I repeated, “You didn’t handle that very well?”

Max ignored that and moved on. “You also didn’t catch my meaning.”

“Oh, no, you’re wrong. I caught it all right.”

“No, I don’t think you did.”

“Trust me, Max, I did.”

“I’m not Niles.”

That brought me up short and the only thing I could do was stare.

Then I hissed, “What?”

“I give a shit,” Max stated.

“You give a shit about what?”

“Everything.”

“Perhaps you’d like to give me more detail,” I suggested and tried to twist my hand out of his again but he only used it to tug me closer and then his other hand lifted and his fingers curled in a way that could not be mistaken around the side of my neck. It wasn’t painful, not in the slightest, but it was firm and it sent a message.

I stilled.

“All right, Duchess, you want detail, here it is. Brody’s my best friend and I know he wouldn’t f**k me over and I’m takin’ a wild guess the amount of times you’ve been f**ked over, you wouldn’t either. It wasn’t him, it wasn’t that, it wasn’t even you sittin’ in his lap, though, I’ll repeat, I didn’t like that one f**kin’ bit.”

“That isn’t detail, Max,” I pointed out. “That’s you repeating yourself.”

“It was you callin’ him ‘darling’.”

I blinked and shook my head briskly, once.

“I’m sorry?”

“You sat in his lap with your hands on him and you called him ‘darling’.”

My blood started heating and I cried loudly, “He was upset about his sister!”

“Yeah? Well, so am I.”

“Yes, and if I remember, I call you darling too.”

“Yeah, but you’re sleepin’ with me.”

I pulled against his hand, sputtering, “I… you… I don’t get…”

“That’s mine,” Max declared and I stilled my struggling and stared at him.

Then I informed him, “You call other women ‘babe’ and ‘darlin’’ and –”

“You’re my only Duchess.”

He had me there.

“It doesn’t mean anything,” I told him and his brows drew together dangerously.

“Duchess doesn’t mean anything to you?”