Chapter 19 Maia
Chapter nineteen
Maia
Smoothing out the dark burgundy mini dress, I adjusted the straps as my curled pony bounced with every move.
I stared at myself in the mirror, pressing my palms against the cool marble of the vanity as my dark red lips complemented the blinding earrings and necklace that was quite literally as bright as the North Star. Blaine had picked it out, of course.
His taste was flamboyant. He told me if he was going to have the best-looking woman in the room on his arm, I’d better give the guys a reason to stare.
A man secure in his masculinity, good-looking, idiotically funny—and somehow, I was still trying to figure out how he was real; still trying to come to terms with the fact that I was across the world, living it up, when only a short time ago I’d been on the brink of collapse.
“You know,” came his voice from behind me, lazy and low, “I was trying to behave tonight.”
My eyes flicked to the mirror. He was leaning against the bathroom doorframe, arms crossed, suit half done, tie hanging loose, shirt open just enough to tease skin I shouldn’t have been thinking about.
“You don’t look like you’re trying very hard,” I said, adjusting one of the earrings and turning my head just enough to catch the sparkle.
His silence lingered, his gaze steady, and finally I turned to face him, hand on my hip.
“Shouldn’t you be panicking about your billion-dollar meeting instead of drooling over me? ”
“Darling, I’m a man of many talents. Surely I can manage to do both,” he murmured, approaching me with all the charm and sex appeal in Europe.
He reached for me, brushing a finger down my arm until he caught my hand. Lifting it, he pressed a kiss to my knuckles, then my wrist.
“Still time to cancel,” he murmured sensually against my skin, and I could only roll my eyes at his antics.
“And give Killian a stroke?” I murmured.
He raised an eyebrow. “Tempting.”
He lingered for a moment, and my smile faltered for just a second, something unsteady pulsing in my chest. But as quick as it came… it was gone.
Blaine must’ve felt the shift because he tilted his head. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I said too quickly. “Just… weird feeling.”
“Cold feet?”
“I didn’t get the memo we were getting married, Mr. Porter.”
He hummed, lowering my hand as he pushed my curly bang away from my face.
“You want to stay? You know I won’t force my pillow princess to do anything she doesn’t want to do…”
I rolled my eyes—again. At this rate, they were bound to roll right out of my skull.
“And let you go into a billionaire lion’s den without your emotional support sugar baby? Never.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I felt a shiver of pleasure run down my spine as he rested his hands on my hips. The storm of negative thoughts that had been threatening to creep in vanished the second I pulled him closer. God, why did he have to smell so good?
For a split second, I was tempted to push him onto the bed and ride off into the sunset with nothing but a saddle and a lasso. Pillow princess my ass.
He grinned against my neck, voice filled with heat and need. “Keep looking at me like that, Sunshine, and we’ll both miss this meeting.”
I pretended to consider it once again. “Come to think of it, it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.”
He pulled back just enough to look at me, eyes glinting with utter mischief. “You’d really let me risk an international scandal with a bunch of pompous assholes just to sit on my face?”
“Blaine.”
“Say the word, I’ll cancel everything,” he pleaded.
I shoved at his chest, laughing as he finally stepped back with a groan like it physically pained him to let me go.
“This dress is one to be ogled, Mr. Porter, per your words. If we’re going to hustle this, let's do it right.”
Stepping out of the bathroom, I giggled, glancing over my shoulder to see his pained expression as his eyes remained locked on my ass. And by the time he got over his horny teenage boy moment, we were on our way to the elevator.
Ten minutes later, we slipped past the velvet ropes and into the kind of room that made my stomach tighten for reasons I couldn’t explain.
Warm gold lighting. Velvet booths. Low, expensive laughter mixed with a heavy dose of cigar smoke.
Not to mention the lingering stares from both the men and women as we entered.
This dress sure does catch attention. I’ll give that to Blaine.
Or rather, it’s me in the dress that is drawing in more than just a few gazes.
Blaine’s hand never left my lower back. That was also gaining us a lot of attention. Hopefully not enough for the image to be relayed back to Killian…
He walked like he owned the place, and quite honestly, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he did. His hand on my lower back was the only thing grounding me. I loved a good dose of attention, but this was practically suffocating me.
“Smile, Sunshine,” he murmured near my ear. “You’re about to steal the show.”
I tried.
But that gnawing feeling returned. Only stronger this time.
As we neared the back, I saw the businessmen.
Already seated. Already drinking. All smiles made of wealthy transactions.
“Porter always did have good taste,” one of them muttered, raising his glass as he looked me up and down.
Instead of rolling my eyes, I laughed politely despite the revulsion, like I was supposed to when satisfying the egos of men like them. My bartending days preparing me to face rich, self-loving, pompous billionaires as a sugar baby was definitely not on my bingo card.
“Gentlemen, always a pleasure.” Blaine chuckled, his hand squeezing my waist as we sat on the supple leather cushions.
He didn’t bother to hide the way his arm stayed wrapped around me, fingers gently tapping against my hip mindlessly.
Eventually, after a few more compliments, the conversation turned away from me.
Markets. Valuations. I tuned it out for the most part, letting Blaine work and focusing on how his hand around my waist slowly found its way to my thigh, caressing me like it was second nature, almost nothing to him—but it was slowly becoming everything to me.
That gut-gnawing feeling never really went away, but ignoring it got easier as the night passed and my nerves began to settle.
I took a slow breath.
Maybe I was just being paranoid. Maybe tonight really would be simple. Just drinks, deals, and Blaine showing off—
“Sorry I’m late. Traffic’s a bitch in this part of town.”
The voice came from behind me. Too smooth. Too familiar. So deeply rooted in my memory, I felt it before I heard it.
My spine stiffened. Every muscle in my body tensed as I tightened my grip on my glass.
Blaine had noticed the shift, apparently, as his hand stopped caressing my thigh and he looked over to me.
But I couldn’t look at him. I kept my face trained down as Felix shook hands with each of the guys, with a smile almost as crooked as he was.
I wanted to disappear. I was supposed to be done with him. I was supposed to be getting my life back on track, yet the moment I feel like I have air to breathe, he invades my space so I can’t.
He didn’t look at me. Not yet.
He didn’t have to.
You are mine. You’ll never get rid of me, you know that, right?
The memory hit like a brick, and I felt the edges of my vision blur.
“Maia,” Blaine said quietly beside me, his hand now steady on my leg. “Sunshine, what is it?”
I blinked, forcing my lips into a strained smile.
“Nothing… just need a minute,” I said, my voice too calm for the panic raging inside my chest.
I stood, trying not to stumble as his hand fell from my leg. Every step I took away from the table felt like walking through wet concrete, dragging me down with every reminder from my past.
The bathroom was dim with more marble sinks and expensive tiles, too elegant for the way I gripped the counter like I was about to ruin it all in a moment with the bile building in my throat.
I stared at my reflection.
Don’t cry. Not here. Not now.
I’d shed enough tears when the man blacklisted me from having any kind of reputable job and ran my pockets dry while my uncle was in recovery. I didn’t need to shed any more.
Still gripping the edge of the sink, I sighed into myself, trying to steady my mind.
But when the door opened and the sound of shoes clicking against the floor rang through the bathroom, I already knew my doomed fate.
“You know, I almost didn’t recognize you,” he muttered, meeting my gaze in the mirror ahead.
I didn’t turn or move. The only part of me that reacted was my pulse, pounding so violently in my neck I was sure he could see it.
“You always did like to play dress-up…” he muttered, his eyes raking my figure up and down. “Guess the rich bastard cleaned you up good, huh?”
My fingers curled tighter around the marble.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“I paid you off,” I said, my voice barely holding.
“And you think that’s the reason I’m here?” He huffed a dark laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, sweetheart… I’ve got much bigger things to deal with than little gold-digging whores.”
I flinched, just slightly. But he saw it. Of course he did.
“Still soft,” he uttered. “All that money, and it still couldn’t buy you a backbone.”
He took another step forward, making my skin cold.
“Let me guess. You found another man with money, batted your eyelashes, spread your legs, and now you think your problems are solved, huh?”
My heart punched against my ribs. But I didn’t move.
“You think Blaine fucking Porter makes you untouchable? You think he’s your ticket out of your fucking mess?”
“Regardless of how I got the money, I paid you what you were due. I don’t owe you anything.”
“You thought money was the end of it? That the little debt your fucked-up uncle ran up was the only thing keeping you under my thumb?” he asked, closing in as I stayed rooted to my spot, my eyes still watching him through the mirror.
“Men like him?” He clicked his tongue. “They only live to disappoint. He’s in rehab because you want him there.
The second they hand him his ticket out of the door and call him ‘clean,’ he’ll be sniffing out the next fix…
the next bet, next scam, next fucking loan.
” He tilted his head. “And when that happens? You’ll come crawling back. Same as before. You always do.”
My vision blurred. The pulse behind my eyes throbbed like a migraine, but I refused to blink. Ripping myself away from the sink, I turned sharply, my heels clipped against the floor as I darted towards my exit that seemed to be getting farther away as the seconds passed.
Unfortunately, I didn’t make it far.
His hand shot out and wrapped around my arm. Firm. Possessive… and all too familiar.
I froze in place. “Let go of me,” I hissed, trying not to let my voice shake. “I’m done talking to you.”
He let out a tired sigh that made my heart sink to my feet.
“Jesus, Maia. You used to be such a good girl.”
I winced at his tone.
His fingers tightened around my arm, not hard enough to bruise, but just enough to remind me who used to be in control… who still seems to be in control.
“Now look at you. Dressed like a goddamn whore on Porter’s arm. God, you really have no shame.”
My eyes stayed locked onto the door, my throat burning as I said nothing.
“I could’ve made things harder for you,” he murmured, voice grazing my cheek like a blade. “Still could. I always liked you being a desperate little slut.”
His voice dipped to a whisper, venom-drenched. “You think he knows what you are? What you did? Who you begged?” There was a heavy, ear-shattering pause. “Should I tell him?”
His words snapped something.
I yanked my arm back, hard enough that he lost his grip.
In response, he laughed… like he was the one who let go.
Like it was nothing.
Like I was nothing.
I still hadn’t said a word, couldn’t even look him in the eye.
Not when I would be feeding him exactly what he loved: my fear, my desperation, my realization…
that everything he said was true. Or at least that's what was engraved in my mind and only brought to light in this moment. Blaine had a way of silencing those voices, I suppose… but they were loud. They’d always be louder.
I didn’t know if I should have cried or begged for his silence. That's what he fed on anyway… but instead of giving in, I did what he hated most.
I walked away.
Waiting for him to drag me back; but when he let me leave the room, I knew his letting me go was worse than the threat… it was his promise to me.
That not only would I never get rid of him, but he wasn’t finished with me yet.