Previously: Shit! Fuck! Bloody hell! Fuck a duck!
—
Marines: Alessia arrives at Max’s apartment with lots of trepidation.
“Her heart sinks when she’s met with the unnerving silence of the alarm.”
I know she means that the alarm is off, which means Max is home, which is bad news, but this is such a weird way to put that. Like she opens the door and the alarm is SILENCING at her.
Sweeney: I genuinely did not understand what this sentence was supposed to be saying until right now because it is so weirdly worded.
Mari: Glad it wasn’t just me.
Alessia tells us about how she can’t quit dreaming about and thinking about Max, and she can’t understand why, even though she reminds us that it’s probably because she saw him buttass naked. Alessia heads to the laundry room to change into her housecoat, throwing her rain-soaked jeans in the dryer, because yes, she got soaked in the rain and has to clean just wearing the pajamas she uses to clean. I hear the bom-chicka starting, do you?
Max calls out for her. “Zot!” she thinks. Maybe they belong together based solely on the amount of time they spend exclaiming curse words internally. Alessia quickly ties on her head scarf and heads out to the kitchen where he is waiting. He greets her and smiles. She looks away because he’s too pretty and it makes her blush. (R: but here’s my number, so call me, maybe.) He was so mad at her last time, and now he’s here smiling and stuff. She’s very confused. Max tells her he just wanted to say hi. When she looks back up at him, he’s smiling but he’s also confused. I’m also confused as to why this is so drawn out and painful. She says “hi” back and Max just “nods and shuffles from one foot to the other, hesitant.” And then he just leaves and that’s enough of Alessia’s POV, bye.
Sweeney: There’s something very meta about it because I think the vibe is supposed to be “aw they’re both awkward, how cute!” but it’s so awkwardly done that I, too, am confused and uncomfortable.
Rebecca: It’s like when two actors have zero chemistry but they’re forced together anyway, except the author wrote them this way on purpose?
Mari: I mean, yes as far as I’m sure she thinks this is good.
Max is beating himself up for not thing of anything better to say than “hi.” As he’s heading back to his bedroom, he notices a trail of wet footprints and his immediate thought is “did she walk barefoot in the rain?” We all have brain disconnect moments, but coming from this rich guy, the fact that he would assume his paid help is walking around barefoot in the rain is SOMETHING.
Time to check in with his inner-Thames and help ourselves to a shot:
My room is gloomy, and the view across the Thames is drab and uninspiring.
Uninspired like his “I just wanted to say hi,” thank you Thames.
Rebecca: It’s the middle of the afternoon so I’ll take a shot of my…water.
Mari: It’s now that he’s looking out the window that he connects the fact that it’s been raining all morning to the fact that she must’ve walked to get to his place. He wonders where she lives. He wanted to have a conversation with her, but he can tell that he makes her uncomfortable, but doesn’t know if it’s him or men in general. He kind of clocks that it is troubling, whether she fears him or all men, but then he’s like NAH, LET’S TALK ABOUT ME.
“It’s a troubling thought. Maybe I’m the one who’s uncomfortable. After all, she chased me out of the flat last week and the idea that I fled to avoid her is disconcerting.”
Listen, I know we are taking our time reading these, but I don’t remember him “fleeing” the apartment because of her. It was more like “who are you? Oh, okay, bye.” And later he was like “she looks like a hot nun, I love it.”
Sweeney: There’s also this thing where he’s just absurdly self-centered and the book is trying to tell us that he’s a secret softy because he cares about an astonishing two (2) women and is grieving his dead brother, but literally every thought he has about any of them is actually just a thought about himself.
Rebecca: Literally he thinks of someone else for all of 4 seconds before he’s back on the Me Train. And then has the audacity to mention how hard he’s grieving when he’s actually nailing his dead brother’s wife.
Mari: All of this, exactly.
The point is that Max is feeling ~inspired~ and spent the whole weekend writing music and ignoring his responsibilities. Max doesn’t understand why Alessia is so inspiring, and that makes two of us.
Suddenly, Max realizes he’s a slob. (S: Has been for years, but now there’s a hot woman involved! Ok to be a slob for a homely older woman of no value, but get it together, man: Alessia’s hot!) He makes his bed before Alessia comes into the room. He puts on a sweatshirt and turns up the thermostat a few degrees, thinking that she might be cold, too. Alessia comes out of the kitchen carrying a laundry basket and cleaning supplies. Max watches her as she heads in the bedroom, taking in her “long pale legs,” “gentle sway of slim hips” and “bright pink underpants” under her housecoat. He can’t look way from the underwear, even though they “cover her backside and come up to her waist.” Apparently these full-butt underwear that come up to her waist are they largest knickers Max has ever seen. (R: He should see mine. They’re the size of a small shirt. Actually I don’t want Max to see my underwear, bye.) I mean… by this description, she’s slim, so like does she just have a ton of extra fabric billowing off these underwear? Why are they so big? It doesn’t matter, because the point is that Max gets turned on looking at her, so he goes to his drawing room to work on emails and ignore Alessia.
Sweeney: This is the power of her hotness: she makes those big gross billowy underwear hot too! He’d never have imagined!
Mari: We flip to Alessia’s point of view again. I feel like I’m going to complain about the choice to tell this story this way every time we have a mid-chapter POV switch. She’s surprised that Max has made his own bed because he’s never done this before. She opens the curtains and looks out at the Thames. “Thames.” she says. Whatever, just drink.
Rebecca: I’m gonna be hella hydrated today.
Mari: Alessia describes how different London is from her home. She doesn’t want to think about home, though, because she’s just here to do a job. And this job comes with the perk of a piano to play on. Alessia hopes that Max isn’t here all day, so she can play the piano, but then she thinks that piano isn’t THAT big a deal and she will be happy just looking at Max. But THEN she thinks that she needs to stop thinking about Max and keep cleaning. BUT THEN she smells his lingering evergreen and sandalwood aroma. BuT tHeN she tells herself to stop thinking about him again! The last thing she had to do in his room is empty the waste basket and she finds that to her disbelief, there are not used condoms in the basket “and for some inexplicable reason the empty basket makes her smile.” Maybe he didn’t use a condom, Alessia, but enjoy your trash investigation.
Before leaving the room, Alessia takes a look at the two photographs Max has on the wall. One is a woman photographed from behind, holding her hair on the top of her head. The other is a close up of a woman’s neck and spine, leading to her butt. “Judging by these photographs, he must like women, and she wonders if he is the photographer.” I… I wonder if she’s coming to the conclusion that he’s straight? I’m not sure what else to think of “he must like women!” because he hast two artsy fartsy picture of women on his wall.
Sweeney: This was very ??? It’s unclear if she means that he’s straight or that he really likes women – though a couple artsy photos do not prove either of those points, so idk where you’re going with this, girl.
Rebecca: I’ve got a pretty great drawing hanging in my office of a woman pegging a man. I wonder what conclusions Alessia would come to about me.
Mari: Something inexplicable, I’m sure.
Alessia thinks maybe one day Max would photograph her but SIGHS because it’s such a fanciful idea that definitely won’t happen.
Cut back to Max. He’s filed away all the condolence emails to deal with not now. Now, he’s totally stumped by farming subsidies and animal husbandry, so much so that he for one second wishes he had studied this at college rather than fine arts and music. Kit, the better son, had been studying Economics, but when their father died, he dropped out to join a different program in farming and estate management. Max thinks about how sensible Kit always was, except for that one time with the riding his motorcycle on frozen lanes and dying. Max is having feelings over Kit’s death, so it’s time to check in with the river, so it can reflect his feelings back at him.
“On the river there are a coupe of barges heading in opposite direction, a police launch cruising east, and the river bus leading to Cadogan Pier. I scowl at the scene. During all the time I’ve lived this close to the pier, I’ve never taken the river bus. As a child I’d always hoped my mother would take me and Maryanne, but it never happened. She was always too busy. Always.”
Wow, we legit have two ships passing in the not-quite-night, a responsible (police) ship and a fun (river bus) ship heading in opposite directions, and childhood trauma. Thanks, river! You explain so much that we definitely haven’t already gathered from 62 pages of nothing but repetition.
Sweeney: I’m sorry I cannot stop laughing at the fact that this man born into obscene wealth is really trying to tell us that his childhood trauma includes, “wah mommy wouldn’t take me on the river bus!!!” and that this has extended to “and that’s why I, a grown adult man, hate that bitch.” Marvelous.
Rebecca: I’m. Like. I have no words. He legit says “And she never instructed our various nannies to take us.” OH, YOU POOR THING. YOU POOR DEAR, MAX? HOW DID YOU SURVIVE?
Mari: I’m sure we’ll continue to investigate his poor life for many hundreds of pages to come.
Max walks away from his emotions and sees his sheet music. He’s feeling better already and sits down to play.
Mother of Christ, we cut back to Alessia. She’s cleaning her favorite of Max’s three kitchens, (R: But remember he never got to ride the river bus his life is real hard) even though it appears to her that he never uses any of them.
Sweeney: Ok listen, this is the most valid reason to be into him I’ve heard so far. Man’s got a good kitchen. I might be able to put up with a lot for someone who is (1) hot (2) extremely rich & (3) has a nice kitchen. Is this skewed by the fact I’ve been inside my apartment for the last year and I fucking hate it here? Perhaps.
Mari: Anytime he’s like “want to hear about how I never got to ride the river bus?” just excuse yourself to go bake something.
Alessia is finishing up the dishes when she hears Max start to play. She recognizes the music, but realizes that he’s written more of the piece. She can’t help herself, and she heads over to check it out. I think he’s playing Bella’s lullaby, but that’s just a guess. It’s sad and he’s lost in the music with “his brow furrowed, head tilted, lips parted” which actually sounds like it would make me lol, but that’s probably why I don’t have billionaires lining up to treat me badly.
As she watches him, Alessia briefly flashes back to that traumatic memory of the man with the ice-blue eyes, but she wills herself to stop thinking about that.
Rebecca: These brief flashes of trauma are pissing me off because I know they’re not going to get any kind of thoughtful attention.
Mari: She listens a bit longer, but leaves before she’s caught. She cleans until the only room left is the living room. She plucks up her courage and heads over. Max spots her and smiles pleasantly. She asks if it’s okay for her to come in, and he tells her it is. She smiles and starts cleaning.
We flip back to Max so he can tell us how distracting her presence is. He stares at her, admires her figure, and gets all shallow breathing and panty when she bends over to fluff a cushion. He can see those pink granny panties again. “I’m a fucking pervert,” he thinks. (R: He’s right.) This goes on– Alessia cleaning and Max pretending to work but being a pervert– for a while. When she moves to clean the piano, Max closes his eyes to pair her heavy breathing (from doing her freaking job) with his fantasies. Alessia looks over at Max’s composition, but when she realizes that Max is watching her, she startles and keeps cleaning. This is apparently so hot that Max is literally saved by a ringing phone. I’m not sure what he would’ve done had the phone not rung, but I’m imagining it would involve just whipping out his dick. Anyway, it’s a work call, and the only person who cares less about this work call than Max is me.
We cut back to Alessia’s POV.
“When he leaves the room, it’s as if a storm has passed over to wreak havoc elsewhere– in the hallway, perhaps.”
I’ve been laughing at “in the hallway, perhaps” for like five minutes, and I still can’t explain why.
Sweeney: The level of ~*drama*~ of A STORM HAS PASSED TO WREAK HAVOC ELSEWHERE paired with “idk in the hallway?” is peak comedy.
Rebecca: I still can’t get over the fact that he got an erection from watching her clean a piano.
Mari: We get another round of “he’s so hot! But I have to stop thinking about him!” She can’t shake the feeling that he was looking at her while she cleaned, on account of he was. “Why would he be watching me?” she wonders. These two hot people not understanding how attraction works is really an amazing basis for a 501 page book. I’m so glad we’re here, deep in “impossible! I’m nothing special….” land.
Suddenly, Alessia realizes she’s a lot warmer than when she arrived and can’t decide if it’s the heat in the room…. or within herself. She’s overheating, apparently.
Alessia runs to grab the vacuum cleaner, but by the time she gets back with it, Max is back in the living room. He waves her in, though, and walks back out. Max has undone his hoodie, so Alessia can see a little bit of chest hair! It’s so scandalous that she has a whole imagined conversation with her mom during which she tells her mother how hot her boss is. And how different men and women interact with each other in England. She has another trauma-back to her presumed abuser, but she pushes away thoughts of him again. “She’s safe now, here in London with the Mister.” I mean… okay, I’m not sure why you are crediting the Mister for your safety, but I’m prepared to at least move on from “no! I can’t look at him!” etc, etc, etc.
Rebecca: I can’t take it anymore. How many times are we going to have to read the same sentences, Mari? How many times do I have to hear them argue with themselves the same shit over and over how is this book 500 pages why is this chapter so long why has nothing of note happened except some pink underwear and a piano boner what are we doing?
Mari: My invitation to join this project was a trap.
In a stunning turn of events, Alessia tells us about the vacuum she uses. It’s Henry brand and those come with cute faces painted on them? I apparently am not in the vacuum know, because this is the first time I’ve ever seen this:
Rebecca: okay I’m crying laughing right now omg
Mari: Alessia vacuums. In 15 minutes, she’s done. This is thrilling.
Max finds her again and tells her that he’s going out, but her money is on the table. Alessia can barely look at him because he’s smiling so much at her, but she’s happy he’s leaving because it will be piano time. Max also takes this time to lend Alessia an umbrella since it’s still raining “cats and dogs” outside. She doesn’t recognize the idiom, but gratefully accepts the umbrella. This may be nicer than anything Christian Gray ever did? I mean, I guess he bought Ana a laptop and a car and stuff, but that was just to keep track of her and woo her into a legally non-binding abuse contract.
Sweeney: I fear there is a secret tracking device in the umbrella because otherwise, yes, absolutely nicer than anything Christian Grey ever did.
Rebecca: Suddenly extra glad I never read those books because holy shit this guy is a step up?
Mari: YES.
Alessia is stunned by the lending of an umbrella, and Max takes his leave.
“Alessia stares at the umbrella. It’s old-fashioned, with a wooden handle and a gold collar. It is exactly what she needs.”
Yeah, ’cause it’s raining. And it’s an umbrella? What’s happening here?
Alessia hurries off to sit at the piano and plays Chopin’s “Raindrop” Prelude. ‘Cause it’s raining.
Max can’t believe Alessia said thank you to him. It’s making him v happy, mostly with himself, because he’s “not accustomed to doing good deeds.” That’s incredibly sad. Also, it was thoughtful, but you are a millionaire who lent the help an umbrella. Don’t get too carried away here on counting your “good deeds.” (S: lmao even ELJ knows this is the nicest thing she’s had a male love interest do!) Max even admits to himself that this good deed is less coming from the goodness of his heart and more from a “shallow fucking bastard” place. He’d rather not dwell on that, and instead just wants to feel great about lending his umbrella. Max thinks about not showing up to this meeting in a suit because that isn’t his thing, and outside he “dodges the raindrops.”
Rebecca: HOW???
Mari:
Oliver talks about some interior designers for the project and Max suggests Caroline, like his mother wanted him to. Oliver reacts to the suggestion, but Max doesn’t know why. He promises to talk to Caroline and look at the designers Kit used to use too.
And another cut brings us back to his apartment where he’s looking at the piano again and imagining his cleaning lady doing her job, but sexualizing it. He reminds us again how ODD it would be to be attracted to a woman wearing CLOTHES and underwear that COVER HER BUTT. Imagine. Max can’t understand why he likes her so much. The more James points this out, there worse it is for her story. WE DON’T KNOW EITHER, JAMES.
“I know nothing about her, except she’s unlike any woman I’ve ever met.”
How would you… know… if you know nothing… about… you know what, never mind.
What Max means is that all of the women in her life are bold and confident and know what they want and know how to ask. Max is completely beguiled by this woman who is “demure and totally focused on her job.” MAXIM. YOU ARE PAYING HER TO BE HERE. Dear god, this makes me so angry. Imagine that this man is completely infatuated with this woman simply because she’s here, showing up to her god damn job, and doing that job quietly and competently. I mean, don’t imagine, because I’m sure most of us women have stories of minding our own damn business or going about our work and being accosted by a man who couldn’t let us be.
Sweeney: Also the fact that he’s like, “wow she is not like all the confident women who ask for what they want” is!!!! extremely gross!!!! What a choice! To write those words! And tell me this is your dreamy romantic lead!
Rebecca: My mouth actually fell open. “I don’t know why I’m attracted to her” became “she shuts the fuck up and cleans my house” reaaaaal quick. I miss Henry.
Mari: Aw, here you go:
And hey, from his piano of horniness to the object of his desire. We cut to Alessia laying on her cot in the small room she has in Magda’s house. She thinks of Max and masturbates until she falls asleep. It’s about as description heavy as EL James has ever gotten about sex.
“He could kiss her here.”
“She gasps, embracing her fantasy, and her hand moves farther down, and she imagines that it’s his hands on her.
Touching her.
Here.”
Where? (R: HERE!) Actually, back with Max who is tossing and turning in his sleep. He tells us this in his first person narration so it’s super cool that he is sleeping, but also telling us that he is tossing and turning in that sleep. He has a dream of Alessia. He invites her into bed, but she heads to the living room to polish his sexual desire piano, wearing only pink panties. When Max reaches for her, she disappears and the dream ends.
He wakes up and masturbates, wondering when the last time he did this was. He makes a plan to go out tomorrow and get laid for sure.
The next day, Max is working, but mostly distracted because the door to Kit’s office is ajar. He can’t bring himself to work in there. He thinks some more about how much better Kit was at this job, even though he envied Max’s freedom. He also has a flashback to identifying Kit’s body and the coroner being the first person to use his new title.
Rebecca: Just, again, lingering on and repeating shit we already know.
Mari: Oliver pulls him out of his thoughts by saying things can remain as they are for the next quarter, but Max should go visit the estates. And then we get a bunch of information on their very profitable estates: Angwin House in the Vostwolds, Tyok in Northumberland, and Tresyllian Hall in Cornwall. I’m sure if they are ever important down the line, James will repeat back any pertinent information about these estates I care nothing about.
Sweeney: It’s a real testament to your commitment to this project that you bothered to include these details now.
Mari:
Max gets a text from Caroline saying she isn’t pregnant. She has nothing of Kit’s, not even his child. Max tells Oliver they are going to have to call it day and they plan to meet again tomorrow. Max replies to Caroline, who wants to go get drunk. They agree on a place, a private club, to meet.
There, Max finds a table and Caroline joins him shortly. She looks like she’s been crying, her hair is mussed and she’s wearing jeans and Kit’s sweater. Max hugs and comforts her, and suggests that she sit facing him so no one can see that she’s upset. She’s jokingly mad that he’s basically said she looks like shit.
They sit and Caroline mentions that he’s been MIA all weekend. He says he’s been busy, but Caroline really wants to know if he’s been alone. Max says yes, feeling good about not lying for once. And she immediately guesses that two days spent not sleeping with strangers means that Max has met someone. Max denies it, but Caroline pushes and Max gives in easily. He met someone who doesn’t know he exists. That’s a fun interpretation because Alessia knows he exists just fine. You give her money, Maxim. (S: I love his “sexually available” / “I am invisible to them” binary of women. Hot.) Caroline can’t believe this, but then drinks arrive and they cheers to Kit and their shared grief.
Rebecca: There is a glimmer of what could have been a sweet relationship here. Max having a solid friendship with his sister-in-law could have been a window into his redemption. We already know he’s a piece of shit without the added grossness of him sleeping with her, and him sharing his grief with Caroline would have made Max appealing to us. Instead, we sit in hatred and await Henry’s glorious return.
Mari: Later that night, Max brings home a drunk Caroline. She wants drugs or more alcohol, but Max says she’s intoxicated enough. She comes onto him, but Max declines. They have to stop doing this. Caroline wonders if this is because he’s met someone. In his thoughts, Max can’t decide if it is. He leads Caroline to the guest bedroom.
And even later that night, Caroline climbs into Max’s bed. He’s relieved he thought to put pajama bottoms on. He cuddles with Caroline and kisses her goodnight, taking comfort in her warmth, but he won’t fuck his dead brother’s wife. Again.
Sweeney: The second nicest thing he’s ever done! ✨ growth ✨
Next time on The Mister: Alessia meets Caroline in Chapter 07.
I'm a 30-something south Floridan who loves the beach but cannot swim. Such is my life, full of small contradictions and little trivialities. My main life goals are never to take life too seriously, but to do everything I attempt seriously well. After that, my life goals devolve into things like not wearing pants and eating all of the Zebra Cakes in the world. THE WORLD.
Nicole is the co-captain of Snark Squad and these days she spends most of her time editing podcasts. She spends too much time on Twitter and very occasionally vlogs and blogs. In her day job she's a producer, editor, director, and sometimes host of educational YouTube channels. She loves travel, maps, panda gifs, and semicolons. Writing biographies stresses her out; she crowd sourced this one years ago and has been using a version of it ever since. She would like to thank Twitter for their help.
I am a book, movie, and TV fanatic over the age of 30. I love baking, video games, and D&D. Legally I must tell you I am a disaster. I've written like 6 novels but haven't had the real courage to query agents yet, and also I don't know how to make decisions (DISASTER). So please send me wine for Courage. Maybe a heart too. Oh and also a brain.