CHAPTER 44
C HAPTER 44
ALLYN
The meeting was a success.
My family got the changes to the law code we wanted, and what boosted my ego was that I was the one who made it happen.
I volunteered to represent our family in this meeting, just to prove to myself and Mikael—that I had it in me, that I’d learned something in the past few months.
I dismissed my bodyguards just as the other men started leaving the room. It had been a long, grueling evening.
But nothing, nothing, could have prepared me for the shock of seeing Maddox King representing his family.
I knew the day would come when we’d meet again. I’d planned for it and thought I had every detail figured out, but somehow, this man always found a way to tear my carefully laid plans to pieces.
It took everything in me to pretend I didn’t notice him when every part of me screamed to look at him. I thought I’d feel nothing but pure hatred when I saw him again.
After the betrayal, I was consumed by the desire to see them suffer. But when his deadly black eyes met mine, it was as if the ground beneath me cracked open.
The whole room was staring, but his gaze was the only thing that mattered. Making my body tremble with something I thought I had buried deep within myself months ago.
How can I hate him— yet feel my heart sink when our eyes meet? It was a challenge to speak for the next three hours, trapped in that same room with him.
I hid my emotions behind a pretended calm, forcing my voice to sound unaffected, all while ignoring the burning weight of his gaze on me. I could feel him watching me the entire time, every glance like a touch, making my skin burn and dredging up memories I didn’t want to relive.
Something I absolutely didn’t need.
Even though the meeting had been a success, deep down, I felt like I lost. My heart still ached for someone who should’ve been dead to me a long time ago.
The men filtered out of the room, not giving me a second glance.
But Maddox—he stayed He was the only one left, still sitting in his chair, his gaze fixed on me. When I finally moved to leave, his hand shot out, gripping mine. I froze.
My whole soul seemed to collapse in on itself, my body reacting with a shiver, his touch sending a chill down my spine. A touch I once craved — now it felt like a foreign sensation on my skin.
“It’s not polite to walk past people like that.”
I looked down at him, forcing myself to meet his gaze.
My body warmed, betraying me, my skin tightening with an unwanted awareness. A devilish grin played on his lips, and then, as if satisfied, he returned his attention to my face.
“We have nothing to say to each other.” I swallowed.
“Oh, but I think we do.”
“Thinking’s never been your strong suit.”
“Ouch.” He feigned a hurt grimace, but I knew the grin that followed wasn’t genuine—it was as dangerous as ever. “Right in my feelings.”
“You don’t have feelings,” I snapped, my teeth gritting.
“Maybe,” he said, his voice dropping lower as he stood to his full height, still holding my hand. “Or maybe not.”
And just like that, I felt small again—like a helpless toy in his grasp.
A toy he’d broken once, and now he was just reminding me of it.
His hard chest pressed against mine, the closeness unbearable. Heart to heart, but there was no warmth between us. Where mine beat with life, his felt like a shield—shallow, cold, and distant.
“I don’t have time for this,” I said, lifting my chin high to show him that he wouldn’t break me this time. “I have places to be, so I’ll cut this little conversation short, which I’d rather not even be having.’’
“You’re playing the big bad mafia boss now, huh, princess?”
His voice was laced with amusement, like he didn’t take me seriously.
He didn’t think I had it in me, and that’s exactly what made me want to prove him wrong.
“Why? Afraid I’m better at it than you?” I shot back, the challenge thick in my voice. His grin widened.
He didn’t say anything in return, but his eyes spoke volumes. I tried to pull away, desperate to escape this suffocating space.
I needed to get out, but once again, he stopped me.
“Not so fast,” he muttered, his voice cold, but I could feel the storm lurking just beneath it.
His hand caressed mine, a touch far too intimate for this moment. His eyes were scanning my face, reading me, studying me.
“The new role suits you. I like it.”
“I would like for you to let me go.”
My words came out steady, though my pulse was racing. The way he was looking at me made me feel both exposed and locked in place.
He chuckled, his warm breath spilling over my face. I fought the instinct to flinch. His hand brushed my ponytail off my shoulder, and my skin prickled under the contact.
He was too close and his presence was too much—impossibly far, yet intimately near. Memories flooded my mind—the feel of his tattooed, rough hands on my body, exploring it not long ago.
I shut the thoughts down, forcing myself to stay in the present.
“Sending me a present for my birthday was very generous of you,” he murmured, his thumb now brushing my lower lip, his gaze following it like he was debating whether to kiss me.
“Judging by the sweet letter you left me, I thought you were eager to see me again.” He pressed his thumb harder against my lip, his eyes darkening with something that felt dangerously close to hunger.
“But now you’re standing here, and you’re not so brave anymore, hmm?” His eyebrows arched, daring me to break.
My body still reacts this way to him, still aches for him, even though my mind wants to push him away.
I despise him, but I can’t deny how badly my body craves his touch. I don’t know whether I want to kiss him or kill him more right now.
He ducks his head, his breath brushing against my lips, too close, too dangerous.
“Tell me, Miss Romano, do you want to hurt me?” he murmurs, his scent overwhelming, intoxicating me.
“Yes.” I say it while my eyes are locked on his lips, betraying how much I still want him.
“Good.” His voice is thick with satisfaction, the kind that comes from knowing he has the upper hand. “It turns me on,” he adds, his mouth curling into that sharp, arrogant smile I used to crave.
I hate him. I also hate how much I want him.
“You’re disgusting,” I say, the words coming out more breathless than I care to admit. “Let me go.”
His eyes trace every inch of my face, my neck, my lips, like he’s studying me, taking in the familiar and the new. The room feels too small, and I feel trapped—trapped in his arms, his gaze and presence.
“You don’t want me to,” he says, his lips brushing my hot neck.
I grip his hand in mine, my knuckles turning white, trying to hold onto any shred of control I have left.
“Your body is betraying you, Miss Romano,” he murmurs, rolling my last name off his tongue like it’s something toxic.
He pressed me harder against the table.
“I bet if I slide my hand under that little dress of yours,” he says, his voice low and filled with temptation, “I’ll find you soaking wet for me.”
His hand traps mine on the table, pushing me further into it, and I can feel it all. Oh, God.
I’m on fire, and he’s holding the matches in his hand.
Look where it got me the last time. I need to be stronger than this.
For me. For my family.
For everything the Kings have taken from us.
“You can try,” I bite out, my voice sharp, “and I’ll cut your hand off.”
His lips twitch in response, and I can hear the amusement in his voice. “I like it rough.”
I bite my lip to stop myself from reaching out for him. I know I shouldn’t, but it’s like fighting an unstoppable force. I thought these months apart would be enough to erase him—to forget the lies, the kisses, the way his touch used to consume me.
But here we are, and nothing has changed.
Even after everything, I’m still weak for him.
“I want one night with you, Allyn,” he demands. “That’s all.”
I grip the table, my fingers trembling, cheeks burning.
“You wish.”
“Just to talk,” he clarifies, his voice smoother, almost like a promise. “Nothing else.”
Asking. Maddox King doesn’t ask — he takes what he wants, whenever he pleases. I’ve learned that the hard way.
But right now, he’s playing it differently. He’s looking at me like he’s sincere— like there’s no hidden agenda behind his words.
I can’t tell if he’s fooling me or if I’m fooling myself.
Then, suddenly, he steps back. The coldness of his absence hits me like a punch. It was so unexpected.
I’m gripping the table, my legs shaking. He lifts his hands in the air— like he’s surrendering, trying to earn my trust.
“I’m staying here for two more days,” he says, pulling out a business card and handing it to me. I glance down at the name of the villa he rented.
“Think about it.”
And then he leaves, and the world feels like it’s crumbling around me again.
That’s the Maddox King effect.
One look, and everything I thought I’d healed from, is shattered.
I thought I had the cure for him.
But I was wrong. There’s no cure.
You just have to find a way to survive it.