Chapter 17 #3
“I’ve been keeping my eye on Elody,” he calmly explains.
“I knew she’d do something to try to trick you into getting out of our arrangement.
I have eyes everywhere in Los Angeles, plenty of people who know her movements and I got the notification that she’s here.
Took me an hour and a half in heavy traffic to get here.
Figures she’d come see you during rush hour. ”
“Well, how did she know I was working from home today?” Dreamscape gives all of us an opportunity to work from home one day a week and today was my day. How did Elody know this?
He shrugs. “Don’t know, except my guess is that she keeps as careful tabs on you as I do her.”
I shake my head so hard my vision blurs, jabbing my finger toward the door where Elody just exited.
"Max, this is a goddamn nightmare," I hiss, my voice cracking.
"If that—that viper and whatever the hell she just pulled is what I'm facing in your world, I'm done.
I am completely done." My chest heaves as I struggle for breath.
"Call your grandfather. Tonight. Get me out of this contract or I swear I'll walk away regardless of the consequences.
I can't—" My voice breaks completely. "I mentally cannot do this anymore. "
The tears burn down my cheeks, three weeks of hell finally breaking through.
Online, they'd torn me apart with precision.
My hair was "cut by a drunken Supercuts hairdresser," my clothes "Walmart clearance rack," my face "a Picasso with COVID.
" They created deepfakes so convincing my mother called asking if I needed help.
Night after night, I clutched wine bottles until dawn, contemplating my balcony's height.
Statistics about harassment victims who'd ended things became whispered possibilities in my mind.
Yet I held on—until Elody's betrayal severed my last thread of trust. That's what finally shattered me.
Max's muscular arms encircle me, his gentle fingers threading through my tangled hair with unexpected gentleness.
Something knotted and jagged inside my chest uncoils like a spring finally released, my racing pulse slowing with each careful stroke against my scalp.
He makes soft shushing sounds against the shell of my ear—the kind that takes you back to Band-Aids on skinned knees and salty playground tears—and for a brief, startling moment, I feel anchored to the earth.
Safe in the harbor of his embrace. I sob against the soft cotton of his Dior shirt, feeling the steady thump of his heart beneath, time stretching and contracting like taffy pulled between invisible hands until my ragged breathing finally steadies.
When he speaks, his voice hums low against my temple.
"I'm sorry about her. She's fixated on me, but that doesn't excuse what she did.
You never asked to be dragged into this mess online.
If you want to walk away, I'll understand completely.
I'll talk to Granddad—he'll listen to me. But, Celeste,” he says, his voice breaking. “I’m hoping you'll stay."
My fists press against his chest—hard as marble.
My heart pounds violently beneath my ribs.
His hand tangles in my hair, sending shivers down my spine.
Heat blazes between us. I crave his mouth on mine, want nothing separating us.
I need him to erase it all—the hellish weeks, hospital rooms, my mother's gaunt face, years of inadequacy—with the press of his body against mine.
Reality cuts sharper than desire: Max doesn't see me.
He lives among runway models and actresses, while I count pennies between rent and groceries.
Soon I'll be just another possession in his Malibu mansion—a contractual obligation.
But Joe Kensington's check means Mom's cancer treatments continue and they keep their apartment.
It means Lexi stays at UCLA. So I swallow my pride along with the acid rising in my throat. I signed the papers. I'll honor them.
I finally shake my head. “I can’t back out. I literally can’t afford to.”
I jerk away from him and let my head fall.
I can't bear to look up—his eyes would only confirm the pity I know is there.
Pity for the fool who believed Elody. For the desperate girl who signed her life away.
For someone whose condo no-doubt fits inside one of his smaller bathrooms. Instagram comments whisper in my ear: "Gold-digger.
" "Fraud." "Whore." The algorithm's kinder now, but those voices still scream loudest. Cruel words stick while compliments slide off.
I've always found it easy to believe the worst about myself.
His soft fingertips brush my chin, rough against my skin as he tilts my face upward until I can't look anywhere but into those emerald-green eyes, flecked with blue near the pupils.
Something flutters in my chest, a trapped hummingbird beneath my ribs.
My throat constricts, desert-dry, as I catch myself wondering about the warmth of his mouth, how his full bottom lip might feel pressed against mine, how he would taste.
I blink the thought away, eyelashes batting like panicked moths.
Don't be stupid, Celeste. This isn't attraction—it's pity. Whatever he feels, it's...
But his lips find mine and time stops. His mouth is soft at first, then urgent—a gasp caught between us.
I taste tart cherries and expensive whiskey as his tongue traces the seam of my lips.
My hands find his shoulders, steadying myself as he pulls me closer, one hand at the small of my back.
The world falls away so I can only feel his touch: his fingers pressing into my skin, the brush of his stubble against my chin, the heat of his breath.
When he catches my lower lip between his teeth, my knees nearly buckle.
I rise onto my toes, chasing the pressure, the sweet ache of it.
His palm slides along my inner thigh, fingertips tracing upward with deliberate slowness, and I'm dizzy with wanting…
But he rips away from me like I've burned him, his green eyes wild with something primal—fear or disgust, I can't tell which is worse.
His arms shoot up between us, palms out, fingers splayed as if warding off evil.
The space between us crackles with rejection.
A strangled sound escapes him—guttural, foreign—something ancient and wounded.
His jaw clenches so tight I can see the muscle jump beneath his skin.
"You'll be okay," he says, voice like gravel. "I'll see you at the wedding."
Then he's gone, the door slamming with such finality it feels like a physical blow. I collapse inward, lungs crushed beneath the sudden vacuum he's left behind, every cell in my body screaming his absence.