Maxwell's POV
Ian's eyebrows shot up. He looked at me like I'd just suggested he strip naked and run through the storm singing show tunes.
"Leave?" he repeated slowly. "You think you're in a position to tell me to leave?"
"I just meant…"
"Last I checked," he interrupted, his tone pleasant but with an edge of steel underneath, "this is the Hoptons' house. Not yours. And Olivia invited me to stay until the storm passed. So unless she wakes up and tells me to go, I'm not going anywhere."
He gestured toward the window again, where lightning flashed, briefly illuminating the room in harsh white light.
"Besides," he added, "in case you haven't noticed, it's still a goddamn monsoon out there. What do you want me to do, swim home?"
I clenched my jaw, fighting back the completely irrational urge to tell him yes, actually, that sounded like a great idea.
