Christmas with My Grumpy Ex (Feuding Hearts Christmas #1)

4. Too Close for Comfort

4

TOO CLOSE FOR COMFORT

MAX

Kissing Ellie cracked open a Pandora's box of emotions that should have remained tightly sealed.

I scan the room, my eyes inevitably drawn to Ellie. She's laughing at something a tall, dark-haired man just said, her head tilted back, exposing the elegant line of her neck.

She's holding court with a tall, dark-haired man, her head tilted back, exposing the elegant line of her neck.

The sight sends a jolt of something hot and uncomfortable through my chest.

I swirl the last of the Bordeaux in my glass, not really tasting it anymore. Next to me, Fiona Reed leans in, a gleam in her eye that speaks more of mergers and acquisitions than any kind of romantic interest. She’s the kind of woman that marries for aesthetics and access.

I married and buried my wife, and I have no intention of doing it again. Not now, not ever. Therefore,Fiona'sflattery and flirting are wasted on me. She leans in a fraction closer, her perfectly manicured nails lightly grazing my forearm.

"So,Max, isAmeliaenrolled in a boarding school yet?" she asks, her tone dripping with faux concern, as if shipping off a nine-year-old girl to a boarding school is as common and casual as choosing between summer camps.

I suppress a grimace, an incredulous laugh bubbling just beneath the surface at the sheer absurdity of it all.

"No, she's not. I’m raising my daughter," I reply flatly, striving to maintain an air of professionalism thatFionaseems intent on dismantling.

My mind is elsewhere, trailing back toEllie, who is a few feet away, radiating warmth and laughter. The sight of her jalape?o-red dress hugs her curves perfectly, and for a fleeting moment, apangof yearning cuts through me.

Fionaopens her mouth to say something, her thin smile breaking into a teasing smirk. "Oh, but you'd be so free to travel, to socialize. You’re quite the catch,Max Wellington. Any woman would be lucky to stand beside you."

It's clear she's angling for a deeper connection, imagining herself in some glamorous role alongside me, perhaps even thinking about a future where she can play stepmother toAmelia—all while I fund her extravagant lifestyle.

I shake my head, caught between amusement and irritation. "You do realize you’re barking up the wrong tree, right?"

Fiona'ssmile lingers, a touch of mischief dancing in her eyes. "Oh, I wouldn't be so sure,Max. Trees can be pruned, and new branches can always grow." With that, she flips her hair over her shoulder, leaving me to grapple with her implication—and the feeling that this flirty game is far from over.

Just as I start to dwell on her words, my gaze wanders back toEllie, effortlessly charming the attendees around her. The sight brings a knot to my stomach, and I’m soon lost in a whirl of old emotions and regrets.

Her laughter, light and genuine, dances through the air, astarkcontrast to the forced pleasantries that surround us.

“Do you need some pointers? A wingman?"Andy'svoice cuts through, pulling me back to the moment. "You gonna stare at her all night or actually talk to her?"

My brother’s words jolt me, and I think back to my time in college—the tangled weave of expectations and dreams that had once defined my life.

Back then, I was living a carefully laid path, crafted by the gilded hands of my family's legacy. A rich kid at an Ivy League school, destined to earn a business degree, then an MBA before returning to runthe family business.

It had all seemed so straightforward, so safe.But everything changed when I metEllie.

She stood out like an authentic gem amidst polishedcostume jewelry--authenticity shining in a world of facade.

She was attending college on a scholarship, she sang in jazz clubs to scrape together extra money for textbooks, her voice a soothing balm in a life often drowned in ambition. She didn’t know anything aboutMaxim Wellington or my family. She didn’t care about my legacy, my wealth, or the obligations that came with them.

For everyone else, including my classmates and even some family friends, I was a means to an end—a ticket to social status, financial security, and glittering connections. ButEllie? All she wanted was me . She saw me for who I was beneath the layers of privilege, beneath the polished veneer.

Her genuine interest in me, her laughter that felt true, made her even more irresistible. It was intoxicating and terrifying, awakening a need more vital than air.

That innocence, that yearning for something real, had captivated me in a way nothing else ever could. Or has since.

As I stand here now, my heart clenched tightlyin my chest. Ican’t help butwonder if I had let go and if I had truly seized the chance to be with her, how different our lives might have been.

“Damn, big brother, you got it bad,"Andy leans against the bar, glancing Ellie's way. "I see why. She's a dime with curves in all the right?—"

A possessive growl rumbles in my chest.

Andy throws up his hands. "My bad."

"Don't you have something better to do?"

"Other than watching all the women in the room drool over you and the woman you want being captivated by so many prospects."

"I'm on the verge of handing you your ass."

I scoff as Andy chuckles. "Come on, bro, you know those times are ancient history."

"Don't be so certain." I tear my gaze away, fixing my brother with a glare.

He takes a sip of his champagne. "Yeah, right. That's why you've been glowering at every guy who's approached her for the past hour."

"I'm not glowering," I mutter, but even I can hear the defensiveness in my voice.

The mixer is in full swing, andthe Skylinehas been transformed into a sophisticated holiday gathering space.

Rich, deep hues of red and gold accentuate the decor, with elegant table settings featuring crisp white linens and shimmering candlelight that cast a warm glow across the room. The air is filled with the enticing aroma of gourmet hors d'oeuvres, expertly crafted by top chefs, tempting guests to indulge in culinary delights.

New York's elite mill about in their finest attire, each outfit a reflection of their impeccable taste and status. Conversations flow freely, their laughter mingling with the smooth sound of jazz playing softly in the background.

As the first official event of the Christmas season, the atmosphere is charged with excitement and anticipation. Groups of distinguished guests engage in lively discussions, exchanging stories of their latest philanthropic endeavors and business ventures.The skylineview beyond the windows showcases the city lit up in its festive glory, offering a breathtaking backdrop to the evening's festivities.

The Skyline, named after the view, is on the fiftieth floor of The Wellington. It’s one of our event spaces and serves as the perfect venue, blending contemporary elegance with the charm of the holiday spirit. The warm ambiance invites connection and celebration, setting the stage for memorable encounters among New York's elite.

And there's Ellie, in the center of it all, looking absolutely stunning. She's working the room like a pro, her smile dazzling as she charms potential clients and influential figures alike.

I try to focus on the conversation happening around me, but my attention keeps drifting back to her. The memory of our kiss from earlier today burns in my mind, the feel of her lips against mine, the way she melted into me for that brief moment. It was perfect until it wasn’t.

"Max, darling!" My mother's voice pulls me back to the present. She's approaching with a statuesque blonde in tow, her eyes sparkling with matchmaking intent. "There's someone I'd like you to meet. This is Vivian Ashcroft. Her father is?—"

"A pleasure," I cut in, not wanting to hear the woman's pedigree. I shake her hand briefly, my smile polite but distant. "If you'll excuse me, I need to check on something with the event coordinator."

I make my escape before my mother can protest, weaving through the crowd. I have no real destination in mind, just the need to put some distance between myself and my mother's well-meaning but misguided attempts to get me back in the dating game. And married off like Carson.

As I near the bar, I overhear a snippet of conversation that makes me pause.

"...absolutely brilliant, Ms. Hawthorne. Your ideas for the gala are revolutionary. I'd love to discuss the possibility of you planning our annual charity auction."

I turn to see Ellie engaged in conversation with Bernard Holbrook, one of the city's most influential philanthropists. She's nodding enthusiastically, her eyes bright with excitement.

"I'd be honored, Mr. Holbrook," she says, her voice warm and professional. "Perhaps we could set up a meeting next week to discuss the details?"

A surge of pride mixes with the ever-present jealousy in my chest. Ellie's talent is undeniable, and watching her in her element, I'm struck by how far she's come from the bright-eyed college girl I once knew.

As Bernard walks away, Ellie's eyes meet mine across the room. For a moment, the rest of the world fades away, and it's just us, locked in a gaze charged with unspoken words and lingering regrets.

Then someone steps between us, breaking the connection, and the spell is shattered.

I turn back to the bar, ordering a dark rum on the rocks. I need something stronger than champagne to get through this night. The smooth, rich flavor promises to take the edge off and help me navigate the complexities of the evening ahead.

"Quite the event, isn't it?" A smooth voice says from beside me. I look over to see Daniel Thomas, an old acquaintance from prep school days. "Your family always did know how to throw a party."

I nod, taking a sip of my drink. “It keeps the donations flowing.”

Daniel's eyes drift across the room, landing on Ellie. A slow smile spreads across his face. "And the company isn't bad either. Who's the knockout in red?"

My grip tightens on my glass. "Ellie Hawthorne. She's the event coordinator for the upcoming gala."

"Hawthorne?" Daniel's brow furrows. "Wait, isn't that the girl you dated in college? The one who?—"

"Yes," I cut him off, not wanting to rehash ancient history. "That Ellie."

Daniel whistles low. "Small world. She's certainly... blossomed since then."

The way his eyes rake over Ellie makes my blood boil. I down the rest of my rum in one gulp, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. "If you'll excuse me."

I stride away, my jaw clenched. The rational part of my brain knows I have no right to feel this possessive. Ellie and I are nothing more than colleagues now, our history buried under years of separation and life changes.

Yet witnessing her take charge of the room, noticing the appreciative looks directed at her, ignites a possessive instinct within me.

"Max!" My mother's voice cuts through the crowd again. I suppress a groan as I turn to face her. She's beaming, another young woman at her side. "There you are, darling. I wanted to introduce you to Sophia Langley. She's just moved back to the city after finishing her MBA at Stanford."

I paste on a polite smile, shaking Sophia's hand. She's objectively beautiful, with long dark hair and striking blue eyes. But all I can think about is how her hand feels wrong in mine, how she's not Ellie.

"It's nice to meet you," I say, my tone cordial but distant. "I hope you're enjoying the event."

Sophia launches into a story about her time in California, but I find my attention drifting. Over her shoulder, I can see Ellie laughing with a group of guests, her hand resting lightly on the arm of a silver-haired man I recognize as the CEO of a major tech company.

"...don't you think?" Sophia's voice filters back into my consciousness.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" I ask, forcing myself to focus on the conversation at hand.

Sophia's smile falters slightly. "I was just saying how wonderful it is that your family puts on these events. The Wellington name is synonymous with philanthropy in this city."

I nod, searching for something to say that will end this conversation quickly. "Yes, well, it's important to give back. If you'll excuse me, I need to check on something with the staff."

I make my escape before my mother can protest, weaving through the crowd with no real destination in mind. I end up near one of the large windows overlooking the city, the twinkling lights of New York spread out before me like a blanket of stars.

"Hiding from your adoring public?" Andy's voice comes from behind me, tinged with amusement.

I turn to face my brother, who's leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. "Just needed some air."

Andy snorts. "Sure, that's why you've been prowling around the room like a caged tiger all night. It has nothing to do with a certain event planner in a red dress."

I shoot him a warning glare. "Drop it, Andy."

"Hey, I'm just calling it like I see it. And what I see is my big brother tying himself in knots over a girl he claims he's over."

"I am over her," I insist, but the words sound hollow even to my own ears.

Andy's expression softens. "Max, it's okay to move on, you know. Laura would want you to be happy."

The mention of my late wife sends a pang through my chest. "It's not that simple."

"It never is," Andy agrees. "But maybe it's time to stop punishing yourself and actually let yourself feel something again."

Before I can respond, a burst of laughter draws my attention back to the room. Ellie is at the center of a small group, gesturing animatedly as she tells a story. The men around her are hanging on her every word, their eyes fixed on her face.

A fresh wave of jealousy washes over me.

I have no right to feel this way, and I have no claim on Ellie or her attention. But watching her shine, seeing the admiration in the eyes of the men around her makes something dark and possessive rear up inside me.

"Go talk to her," Andy urges, following my gaze. "What's the worst that could happen?"

I shake my head. "We're colleagues now. It's better to keep things professional."

Andy rolls his eyes. "Right, because you're doing such a great job of that already. Just admit it, Max. You're still in love with her."

His words hit me like a physical blow. Am I still in love with Ellie?

The thought is terrifying, exhilarating, and utterly impossible all at once.

Before I can formulate a response, I see Daniel approaching Ellie. He leans in close, whispering something in her ear that makes her laugh. His hand comes to rest on the small of her back, and something inside me snaps.

"Excuse me," I mutter to Andy, already moving across the room.

I reach Ellie just as Daniel is asking her to dance. She turns to me, surprise flickering across her face. "Max! I was wondering where you'd disappeared to."

"Ms. Hawthorne," I say, my voice tight. "Could I have a word with you? About the gala preparations."

Ellie's brow furrows slightly at my formal tone, but she nods. "Of course, Mr. Wellington. If you'll excuse me, Daniel."

I lead her to a quiet corner of the room, my hand hovering near the small of her back but not quite touching. The heat of her body so close to mine is intoxicating, bringing back memories of our kiss.

"Is everything alright?" Ellie asks once we're alone. "You seem... tense ."

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions raging inside me.

"Everything's fine. I just wanted to make sure you're not overextending yourself with all these new connections. The gala is our priority."

Ellie's eyes narrow slightly. "I'm more than capable of handling multiple projects, Max. I have a team to support. These connections could be great for my business."

"And I'm sure that's all they're interested in," I say before I can stop myself, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "Your business acumen."

Ellie takes a step back, hurt flashing in her eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

I pinch the bridge of my nose, frustration and jealousy warring inside me. "Nothing. Just... be careful, alright? Not everyone here has the purest intentions."

"I can take care of myself," Ellie says, her voice cool. "I'm not that naive college girl anymore, Max."

The reminder of our shared past stings. "I know that. I just... I don't want to see you get hurt."

Ellie's expression softens slightly. "I appreciate the concern, but it's not necessary. I know what I'm doing."

I step closer, unable to help myself. The scent of her perfume washes over me, jasmine and vanilla, achingly familiar.

"Do you?" I ask, my voice low. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're letting yourself get swept up in all of this."

Ellie's eyes flash with anger. "And what exactly is 'all of this,' Max? Me doing my job? Building my business? Making connections that could advance my career?"

"That's not what I meant?—"

"Then what did you mean? Make it make sense," she demands, her voice sharp and unwavering. "Because it sounds an awful lot like you're implying I can't handle myself in this world."

The accusation lingers in the air between us like a challenge, agitating the simmering tension.

My pulse quickens as I lean in closer, lowering my voice to a near growl. "If they're not man enough to step to you, they don't deserve you."

I want to reassure her, to make her see that my intentions are protective, but the words slip out sharper than I intend, colored by my possessiveness.

The thought of any man approaching her, let alone the ones I’ve seen tonight, has me on the verge of losing my shit.

Her eyes flash with indignation. "So, what does that say about you , Max? Are you afraid to step up? Are you that unsure of yourself?"

Her challenge cuts deep, forcing me to confront the very insecurities I tried to bury. This isn’t just about the men surrounding her. It’s about the struggle to redefine our dynamic after years of separation.

I can feel the walls we've built clashing, each of us trying to claim our space without toppling the other.

I take a step back, trying to regain my composure. She’s right. I’m scared—not of her, but of losing what little connection we’ve managed to rebuild.

"Ellie, I just want to protect you,” I try to explain, but it feels weak even to my ears.

Confusion and hurt flash across Ellie's face. "Well, Max. That ship has sailed. Good night."

I take a step back, already turning away, unable to face the emotions I see in her eyes. I make my way through the crowd, nodding briefly to my mother and Andy as I pass.

"Leaving so soon?" Andy calls after me, a knowing smirk on his face.

I don't bother to respond, pushing through the doors and marching to the private elevator.

I can't shake the image of Ellie's face from my mind. The hurt in her eyes, the confusion, the lingering heat from our almost-kiss.

What the fuck am I doing?

I slip into the elevator. This thing with Ellie, whatever it is, is dangerous. Complicated. I have Amelia to think about and a business to run. I can't afford to get swept up in old feelings and what-ifs.

But, after tonight, I can't deny the truth. The jealousy that consumed me tonight, the possessiveness I felt watching other men admire Ellie, it all points to one inescapable fact:

I'm still in love with Ellie Hawthorne.

And I plan to do nothing about it. Because she’s not mine to have.

I fucked that up fifteen years ago…