Chapter 3 #3
Enzo hesitated briefly, as if weighing whether or not to keep asserting his dominance.
Finally, he released her with a grudging grunt, his fingers lingering just long enough to leave a phantom ache behind.
“Don’t screw this up, Lexie,” he hissed, straightening his tie with a jerky movement.
“I’ve got some big ideas Max needs to hear.
Ways the organization can run smoother. Better profits, better control, better everything. ”
He puffed out his chest again, the ridiculous bravado of his words almost laughable if it weren’t so pathetic.
“Max’ll listen to me once you put in the good word.
Tell him I’ve been watching the way things run, and I’ve got solutions.
Efficiency, Lexie. That’s what he needs. And I’m the guy to deliver it.”
Lexie almost laughed at the absurdity of it.
Enzo couldn’t even manage his own wardrobe, let alone an entire criminal organization.
But there was no time for sarcastic remarks or eye-rolls now.
She simply nodded, trying to placate him enough to get away.
“I’ll… mention it,” she murmured, taking a careful step forward, her arm still tingling where his fingers had dug in.
As she turned toward Ramone, her heart pounded in her chest. The last thing she wanted to do was act as Enzo’s mouthpiece, but refusing him outright would only make things worse.
For now, she’d have to navigate the tension between Max’s anger and Enzo’s demands—and hope she didn’t get crushed in between.
She followed Ramone, her heels clicking against the marble floor with a rhythm that only seemed to amplify her nerves.
She kept her head down, hoping to avoid the curious stares of the other guests.
Unfortunately, the stupid, bright pink dress made her about as inconspicuous as a neon sign, and she could feel eyes on her as she made her way toward the other end of the room.
Max stood there, talking with a small group of sharply dressed individuals who exuded wealth and power.
Just the sight of him made her a little lightheaded with a mix of anticipation and dread.
Lexie had no idea what this party was for, but she felt utterly ridiculous in the satin band-aid Enzo had forced her to wear.
If she could find some way—any way—to free herself from his blackmail, she would do it in a heartbeat.
Especially if it meant no longer being paraded around in outfits that made her look like a caricature of a bimbo.
The humiliation of the dress alone was almost worse than the threat hanging over her head.
She clenched her jaw, forcing her thoughts away from Max and the sharp cut of his suit that she’d glimpsed from across the room.
Instead, she latched onto a distraction.
Maybe she could hire someone to hack into Enzo’s phone, wipe the incriminating videos, and end this nightmare once and for all.
She had no idea how much a good hacker would cost, but surely there was someone out there who could do it.
She had some money saved up, and even though dipping into her retirement accounts would be a painful hit, it might be worth it.
The alternative—those videos getting out—was unthinkable.
Lexie’s heart squeezed at the thought of losing her job.
The idea of walking into her classroom and seeing her students’ faces after such a scandal was mortifying.
If the videos ever went public, she’d be finished—not just at this school, but anywhere.
And what then? Teaching was her life. Nothing compared to the excitement of seeing a teenager’s face light up when they finally “got” the hidden symbolism in a book or beamed with pride after turning in an essay they’d poured their heart into.
The thought made her chest ache, so she latched onto something even smaller to keep herself distracted.
Essays. She really needed to start grading those papers she’d collected today.
If she woke up extra early tomorrow, she could knock out a good chunk of them and finish the rest on Sunday.
She mentally began organizing her plan, thinking about which essays to tackle first—
Her thoughts skidded to a halt when she realized she was only a few feet away from Max.
Ramone had stopped, stepping to the side to let her pass.
Her breath caught in her throat, and all the nervous energy she’d been trying to bury surged back to the surface.
A year. It had been a year since she’d last seen him.
And now here she was, wrapped in a horrible pink dress, about to face him in front of a room full of people who were already watching her every move.
Her palms dampened, and her pulse raced, but there was no turning back now. Taking a deep breath, Lexie straightened her spine and stepped forward, willing herself to focus on anything other than the furious storm she knew she’d find in Max’s eyes.
“Lexie,” a deep, velvety voice broke through her tangled thoughts, instantly commanding her attention. That voice sent a familiar shiver down her spine, the kind that had once made her feel safe, cherished, and entirely too vulnerable. Now, it only made her stomach churn with nerves.
She froze, her feet rooted to the marble floor as she slowly lifted her eyes from the ground.
This is it, she thought, tugging at the ridiculously low neckline of her dress in a futile attempt to reclaim some sense of modesty.
Unfortunately, that only made things worse, pulling the already short hemline higher.
Panic flared as her hand darted to the back of the dress, desperately praying she hadn’t just exposed her white cotton panties to the crowd.
Her cheeks burned at the thought of the onlookers—most likely judging, whispering, and wondering why Max Diatras, of all people, was speaking to her.
“Max,” she managed to reply, her voice steadier than she felt, though it carried an unmistakable tremor. She willed herself to ignore the absurd dress and focus instead on summoning some measure of composure. Poise comes from within, she reminded herself firmly. Not from what you’re wearing.
So she straightened her spine and wrapped her dignity around herself like armor. Then, slowly, she looked up into the face of the man she’d avoided for a year—the man she had once adored with every piece of her fractured heart.
And there he was.
Max. His presence hit her like a tidal wave.
He was as devastatingly handsome as ever, perhaps even more so.
His tall, commanding frame was impeccably dressed in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit that hinted at the power coiled beneath his composed exterior.
The crisp white shirt beneath the jacket and the dark tie that complemented his outfit only served to enhance the sharp planes of his face.
His hair, dark and slightly tousled in a way that somehow looked both deliberate and effortless, added to his magnetic allure.
But it was his eyes—those dark, penetrating eyes—that left her breathless.
They were locked on her, steady and unreadable, and Lexie felt as though he could see straight through her.
Max wasn’t smiling, but he wasn’t frowning either.
His expression was a mask of calm control, giving nothing away.
He wasn’t the type to reveal anything in a setting like this—surrounded by people, with countless eyes on him.
But Lexie remembered vividly what his face looked like when they were alone.
Oh, when they were alone…
His features would soften, then burn with raw emotion.
She had seen need and lust flicker in his gaze, felt the heat and desire radiating from him when there was no one else to see.
She had seen the intensity of the man beneath the polished exterior, and it was that memory—the passion, the connection—that made her knees feel weak now.
But this wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. Lexie pushed those thoughts aside, though her body betrayed her with a racing heart and trembling hands.
She stood before him, painfully aware of how absurdly dressed she was, and yet unable to look away.
Max’s gaze didn’t stray from her face, but she could feel the weight of it, as though he were cataloging every detail of her appearance, every nuance of her expression.