Chapter 5 #3
The room tilted again as my feet left the floor, one arm braced around his shoulders, the other instinctively gripping his jacket. Heat bled through the fabric, steady, grounding, as he carried me off the stage and out of the lights.
Hunter’s voice followed us—smooth and effortless over the mic.
“…occupational hazard—heels higher than brains.”
The crowd erupted in laughter that rolled through the room. I was just part of the act.
My stomach twisted—I wanted to punch him.
I pressed my face closer to Graham’s shoulder, not enough to hide—but enough to breathe.
He set me down in a battered folding chair in a side room that smelled faintly of dust, coffee, and cheap perfume, then crouched in front of me.
His fingers were careful when they found my ankle, his touch steady in a way that made my heart beat a little harder. His eyes stayed locked and unreadable.
I hated that he looked at me like I was fragile.
I hated it more that some broken part of me wanted him to prove it wrong.
“Let’s get you out of those death traps, princess.”
He knelt fully then, hands working the straps with frustrating precision.
Too gentle. Too controlled. His gaze lifted once—hungry and unrelenting—before dropping back to his work.
Then his hands slid up, steadying me at my calves, my knees, and higher, until he gripped my hips and tugged me forward in the chair—pressing me flush against him.
Heat snapped through me.
Every nerve in my body lit up.
My breath lodged in my throat.
God. I wanted him. I needed him.
I swallowed it down, but it came out anyway—smaller, rougher than I meant.
“The only way this works…” My voice cracked, and I tried again. “The only way this works is if you join us. And follow Hunter’s rules.”
His whole body went still.
Not confused. Or questioning. Just still.
“Max, that’s not gonna—”
“Look,” I said, my voice determined, leaning back like distance could steady me. It didn’t. “You made your decision when you left. You told me to find someone else, so I did.”
My throat tightened in the silence.
“I already screwed with Hunter’s life. I’m not going to destroy him too.”
Graham’s jaw flexed. His voice came lower, stripped down. “Forget Hunter. Just you and me. No rules.”
Before I could answer, the door cut the air open.
Hunter strolled in like he hadn’t just been on a stage, winning the people over with fake belly laughs and empty promises, drink in hand, expression edged with amusement that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Aye, I told her those shoes would be the death of her.”
His hand slid over my shoulder, drawing my hair forward so it spilled neatly over one side like he had just corrected the most important detail in the room.
Graham saw it.
Didn’t react at first.
Then his eyes narrowed—sharp and immediate.
He didn’t speak. Just dropped back down in front of me, grip tighter this time, unbuckling my other heel with quick, sharp movements.
A heat climbed his neck, reddening just below his ears.
He yanked a spare chair over, setting it beside mine. “Put your foot up,” he said before standing, eyes cutting into me like a warning, and shouldered past Hunter. “I’ll get ice.”
Hunter stepped in close, his accent thick, and voice syrupy sweet. “He still cares for you, mo chróí.”
“I know.” I scraped my nails at their polish, anything to avoid his eyes.
Then—like a switch flipped—he snapped. His drink hit the floor with a splash, and his hand clamped around my face, jerking me up to meet his gaze. The grip was brutal, heat and pressure biting into my cheeks.
“Is he going to be a problem?”
“What?” My brain scrambled. Hunter had never touched me like this—never.
My pulse screamed.
“Is he going to be… a problem?”
“I-I-no-I don’t know what you mean.”
His eyes burned, blood-red with anger, jealousy, something darker. His fingers dug in harder, like he could squeeze the truth out of me.
“Hunter, that hurts.” I tried to peel his fingers away, but his hand snapped back, then cracked across my face.
A sharp yelp escaped me. My cheek bloomed fire; tears stung hot behind my eyes. Everything tilted. I held my burning face like it might fall off. Confusion wedged itself into every breath.
“You’re mine now. Remember that.” His voice was thin with rage as he snatched my wrist. “Bring him to our bed tonight.” He let go and adjusted his sleeves. “I want to see where you stand.”
Then he was gone, storming out like a goddamn tantrum wrapped in a man.
Where I stand?
I stared at the empty doorway, vision blurred, pulse jagged. Pain seared along my cheekbone.
What the hell was going on?
He fucking slapped me.
That slap wasn’t playful. It didn’t land like something from bed where I had asked for more. It landed like contempt—like I’d become the thing he hated. And somehow, that one strike nailed something in me that felt eerier than the pain.
Something I had been too selfish… too naive to even consider.
What if I cursed the wrong man into loving me? What if his obsession was no longer lust and admiration? What if it had transformed into a need to control what was his?
A moment later, Graham was back, and I finally let the breath I’d been holding slip out. Hot tears blurred my lashes—one tracked down my cheek.
“Hey. Hey… What’s the matter?” He crouched in front of me like gravity had folded him there.
I wiped at my face too fast. “It’s—it’s nothing. Just my ankle. I think I really screwed it up.”
His gaze dropped to my foot, then he carefully set a towel-wrapped ice pack on it with an unnecessary gentleness. “I’ll take you in.”
“No.” I grabbed for control like it might float away. “I’ll be fine. I just need a minute.”
“Max—”
“Graham.” I held his eyes, searching for something I couldn’t name. My voice came out smaller than I meant. “Come over tonight.”
His brow tightened. “Max—”
“I want you,” I said, the words raw and flat. “It’s the only way I can have you.”
He didn’t answer. He looked at me like someone who’d swallowed a knife—hurt and furious and too aware. He knew me well enough to know I wasn’t a cheater. He knew what I’d done, and what it cost.
For one mad second I imagined undoing it all. Calling Hunter, telling the truth, walking straight into Graham’s arms and never looking back. But fantasies didn’t rewrite consequences. I exhaled and let the small, sharp fact sit—happily ever after wasn’t a thing on my table.
“Fine,” he growled. “But only if I take you to the E.R. first.”
I nodded, too tired to argue.
He rose. “I’ll tell Katie I’m taking you back to Port Grey. She’ll have to take over your job with Hunter. What all does that entail anyway?”
“Basically, stand there, smile, and make him look good. Trophy girlfriend. Cute, right?”
Graham didn’t even crack a smile. Just reached into his pocket and pressed something cool and silver into my palm, his hand covering mine like he was sealing a deal.
“Don’t open this ‘til we’re in the car. Should’ve given it to you yesterday, but—well…” His jaw ticked.
My gaze snagged on the little pocket mirror. My throat closed. “Wait. He’s… in here?” I gripped it so tight my knuckles burned.
“Yep. Don’t.” He was already back in the ballroom before I could breathe.
Uncle Silas was with Graham the whole time? I thought I’d lost him forever, and Graham couldn’t be bothered with a simple: Hey, your uncle’s hitchhiking a ride to Colorado.
And just like that, I was back in my room, clutching Chester, staring at the wall, trying to stitch together whatever the hell had just happened in that bathroom.
September was the month I wanted scrubbed from existence. Except part of me clung to it like a bruise I kept pressing just to see if it still hurt. I couldn’t stay mad at him for leaving. If it had been me—if I’d lost what he lost? I’d probably have burned the world down.
But I could be mad at the way he left me—no real choice in how to move forward. And look at me now—sitting here with a dead ankle and a spell I should’ve never cast. Bravo, Maggie. Real healthy coping.
God, he infuriated me. And I hated that I still wanted him.