The Billionaire Playboy's Regret (Lark and Max)

Max stared at his best friend in disbelief and was prepared to run after him when his father pulled him backwards.

"Let him go, Max. He's hurting. He will think about his words, and he'll regret them, but he's scared and sad. Let him go." Max looked at Lark, "tell me you don't believe what he said?"

"Max," Lark shook her head, "I don't but I also can't do all this right now. The blame game isn't going to help anyone." She wiped tears off her cheeks. "This isn't the time for drama. I need my family and the one who usually holds us together is downstairs on a slab and I don't know how to cope without her." She gulped for air and blinked away more tears.

He nodded as he looked to the rest of his family, "okay. Um." He ruffled his hair nervously. "I'm sorry. You're right. I'm here for you. Whatever you need. Johan and his accusations can wait. I'll talk with him later. For now, I'm all yours." "Thank you," she stepped closer to him and wound her arms around his middle, resting her head to his chest.

He noted Grady sitting off to the side, Everly rubbing his shoulder as she stood beside him and his heart hurt. He shot a look to his mother and wondered if he too would look as bad as Grady when his own mother passed. He fought a stabbing pain in his chest at the notion deciding he would look ultimately worse. Moreover, he never wanted to find out, but he knew without a shadow of a doubt, he would not be as strong as the man before him. His mom was an incredible woman as Nana Prue had been and losing such a powerful matriarch to the family was devastating. He wiped a straggling tear off his cheek as he thought of the vivacious elderly woman who only the night before at dinner kept them rolling with laughter at her cruise ship stories.

of

He found himself once again feeling short of breath as he looked around the room and noted none of his siblings were looking in his direction. Ollie was curled into herself on a chair, picking at her fingernails, evidently still reeling from Johan's accusations and the triplets were huddled together as if unsure how to talk to Fallon. Margot was sitting between Henri and Riggs, and he noticed even they weren't looking at him. He met Ronnie's eyes, but his brother quickly looked away, setting his jaw forward as if struggling not to say something. Everyone was staring at the floor avoiding looking at him. Did they all blame him and Ollie for what happened?

He rested his chin on Lark's head, but his legs weakened as he felt their judgement crowding him. Maybe it was perceived but maybe it was real and, in the moment, all he cared about was whether or not Lark believed it too. Yet her quiet words to him were flitting in his brain. This wasn't the time for drama. He was going to have to keep his insecurities to himself. He couldn't ask her. He couldn't put more on her than she was already going through, so he stood there quietly, holding her, praying it wasn't the last time she let him. Panic was making him feel clammy and sweaty as he gripped her to his chest. A distinct awareness filled him of how fleeting his time with Lark could be once the rush of all this emotion settled down especially, if after thinking of it, she believed Johan's words.

He stood there for a long time holding her, praying with everything in his soul she didn't leave him. Johan was right. This was his f**k up. He shouldn't have listened to his father about meeting with Oona to get the copies of the video back. Lark hadn't cared at the time if Oona released them, and she was the only one who mattered. If he didn't meet with Oona in the hotel, the paparazzi wouldn't have gotten a picture of Lark with Gracie and Doug would never have come at them like he did.

It was his fault. It was all his fault. His stupid arrogance of meeting with Oona and not caring about the fallout put Lark at risk. The stress and strain of the situation with Doug caused Nana Prue to have a heart attack and drop dead right there. Gracie and Sawyer were fighting for their lives and from what he'd heard before going to look for Lark with her family, it wasn't looking good. His behavior caused her entire family to be nearly decimated. She was probably going to leave him and not speak to him ever again. He fought the tears and cleared his throat of the thickness choking his breath away.

"Max," Lark lifted her head from his chest. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he nodded not looking at her. "I'm fine."

"I don't think you are." She pressed, pushing her hand to his chest, and then whispering frantically at Olivier.

"Lark, I only need to hold you. Come here," he reached for her again, feeling strangely edgy that she was pulling away from him.

"No. I mean, your heart is doing a really weird racing thing. I could feel it on my cheek when I was hugging you. It's not right."

"I'm fine," he shook his head, staring at a black dot on the wall opposite them. When he blinked the dot became two and then one again. His head was starting to pound, and he knew his emotions were starting to get the better of him. He needed to reign it in so he could support Lark before she came up with more reasons to leave his sorry ass.

He heard his father speak softly, "Max, son, you don't look well. Why don't you come sit?"

"No. I need to hold Lark." He negated his father's command by pulling Lark back to him and forcing her head to his chest.

"Max," he looked his mother who approached him cautiously. "Honey, I know you're upset. Johan said some things which stung, and I get it, but you need to let Lark go for a minute and sit down." He was vaguely aware of Riggs grabbing his wrist and then hissing at someone to find a doctor or nurse. "Max, sweetie, we need you to sit down."

"No." he refused and tightened his grip on Lark. He kissed the top of her head, "I love you."

"I love you too, Max," she twisted her head to look up at him, her eyes bright with unshed tears. "Baby, can you sit down?"

"You'll leave me." He whispered unable to hold her gaze for more than a few seconds. "If I let you go, you'll leave me. Grandmother Veronique was right. My behavior is going to make you leave me." He let out a shuddering breath, "I'd rather my d**k fall off."

He was so out of it he didn't hear the snicker from LJ at the comment or the grunt of disgust from Mori at Max's words. "Hey Max," Ollie chimed in as she ducked under her mother's arm, "you know if your heart gets really messed up it can f**k with your circulation and your d**k might actually fall off. You don't want Lark to be bored sexually forever now, huh? Let's sit you down."

"f**k off Ollie." He shot her a withering glance, slightly aware of how she bounced in an out of his focus. "It's not about s*x with Lark. I love her. I can't live without her again. It was too hard last time." He sniffed, he felt his feet shuffling but his grip on Lark was tight.

"Max, I swear to god if you die on me too, I'll never forgive you." Lark hissed at him angrily as she noted the entire team rushing in to take Max.

When they reached for him, he brushed them off, "I need to stay here with Lark. She needs me. She is my family, and she needs me."

"Max, son," his father was tugging his hands off Lark as he tried to separate the pair. "You don't look good. Your color is bad. Your heart is acting up.

"It's only a panic attack. I get them all the time," he argued. "It's stress. If I simply breathe it will stop. Lark is the best one to keep me grounded, right so give her back." He was shifting sideways, and he pulled himself upright and clung tight to the wrist he was holding. He couldn't let her leave him.

"It's stress but it's not panic," Riggs was helping Olivier unbind Lark from Max's death grip. "Buddy, listen

to me, let's get you checked out by the medical team so you can come back and support Lark, okay? Lark, are you going anywhere?"

"No. I love you Max," Lark whispered caressing his cheek with the tips of her fingers as they started to pull her away." Please, for me. Get checked."

Immediately he started fighting them. "Give her back."

"Max." The fear in Lark's voice made him struggle to get to her but there were too many of them. It felt like a nightmare fueled dream.

"You can't take her from me again," he was trying to push his way through the group. "Chère, I love you."

"Hey, hey," she whispered as the larger-than-life men in the room were restraining Max, "I love you too. I'm not leaving you.

I need you. I need you healthy."

"I am healthy." His chest felt like it was cracking open with pain, and it stole his breath. His knees

crumpled and he was lifted unceremoniously by Riggs, Henri and two men in hospital scrubs who were shoving him onto a gurney.

He tried to sit up but then someone was strapping him down to the bed. It hurt. His chest hurt so bad it was as if a jackhammer was thrusting against his ribcage, but nothing hurt more than seeing Lark fall to her knees screaming for him as one of the men jumped onto the gurney with him.

His last coherent thought before darkness consumed him was to question why on earth a grown man needed to straddle him on a moving bed.