chapter 5
Maverick's POV:
"I beg to differ," I said, setting down my glass with deliberate precision.
The whiskey burned pleasantly in my throat, but it was nothing compared to the fire that had ignited in my chest the moment I saw Grace White delivering water to Sebastian like some common servant.
Kai's eyebrows shot up, a knowing smirk playing at his lips. "Oh? Don't tell me you came back for her this time."
The words hung in the air between us, unspoken but understood.
They all knew I'd fallen for Grace at first sight two years ago—never even got the chance to pursue her before family chaos consumed everything.
My father's bastard Sebastian was exposed—David finally admitted he'd been keeping his ex-lover and their son around all these years.
He even had the audacity to announce he wanted a divorce, to bring them home properly. But my mother, Catherine Cross, wasn't someone you crossed lightly. She'd built the Cross Empire from nothing, bankrolled David's rise to power.
She gave him a simple choice: leave with nothing and play house with his beloved mistress and bastard, or stay married, keep his position as CEO, but ensure those two would never have a legitimate claim to anything.
David made his choice.
Perhaps love meant less to him than he'd claimed—he chose money and power. Catherine laughed coldly, said she might have respected him if he'd had the balls to walk away with nothing.
But seeing his true nature laid bare, she couldn't stand another moment in this city. She left for Europe, built her own empire there. They never divorced though—Catherine kept the marriage as his punishment, a golden cage he'd chosen for himself.
When I heard about the Whites' downfall, about Grace's situation, I seized my chance. While Catherine was buried in some merger negotiation, I slipped away and flew back.
"Like I'd come running back for someone with such terrible taste," I shot back.
My expression darkened, shadows playing across my face in the club's dim lighting.
Her taste was abysmal—how could she not see through Sebastian? I'd been worried sick about her, practically sprinted from the airport, only to find her playing water girl for that bastard.
"Well, I know. Is that why you were peacocking on the ice like that?" Sienna leaned forward, her eyes glinting with malicious delight. "Showing off for little Grace White? I mean, who wouldn't be jealous watching their crush play water girl for another man?"
I took a long pull from my drink, neither confirming nor denying.
"So what's the plan?" Dante asked, cutting straight to the point as always. "You going to actually pursue her this time, or just pine from afar like before?"
"Want us to help?" Kai offered, already pulling out his phone. "I could have her number in five minutes. Social media stalking is practically my specialty."
I laughed, the sound devoid of humor. "Focus on your own messes. Your love lives are enough of a disaster."
The group fell into brooding silence, each nursing their drinks. Someone suggested a drinking game, but I barely heard them. Through the doorway, I'd caught sight of a familiar figure among the servers passing by in the corridor.
I stood, scooping up my keys from the table.
"Rain check on the fun." I was already moving toward the door, ignoring the confused voices and protests behind me.
I caught up to the group of servers heading down the corridor—and there she was. Grace. Working nights at The Abyss of all places.
I hung back, watching her navigate trays and difficult customers, saw the moment some drunk got too handsy and she tensely tried to deflect.
Time to play the spoiled rich boy card.
I sauntered over, affecting the arrogant swagger of someone who'd never heard 'no' in his life. "You there," I pointed at her, letting my words slur just slightly. "Got a license?"
She seemed almost relieved at the interruption, nodding quickly. "Yes, I do."
"Good. Need a designated driver." I dangled my keys carelessly. "How about it?"
Before she could answer, the drunk customer lurched to his feet, jabbing a finger at me. "Who the fuck do you think you are? Can't you see she's serving me?"
My eyes narrowed to slits. "Open your fucking eyes and take a good look at who you're talking to. Since when do I need permission from trash like you?"
The drunk's face flushed red, fists clenching as his temper flared. "Say that again, I fucking dare you!"
"What, can't understand English?" I drawled, my tone dripping with contempt. "Need me to spell it out for you?"
He lunged forward, ready to swing, but his companion suddenly seemed to recognize me. The man's face drained of color as he grabbed his friend's arm, practically wrestling him back.
"Mr. Cross!" He bent nearly in half, voice trembling. "I'm so sorry, sir. He's drunk, doesn't know what he's saying. We'll leave immediately."
I ignored him completely, turning back to Grace with a raised eyebrow.
The question hung in the air between us.
She hesitated, shifting her weight nervously. That wall went up between us.
Ungrateful little... I'd just saved her from that drunk's pawing, and she still acted like I was radioactive. What was so terrible about driving my car?
"Five hundred for the ride," I said flatly. "Cash."
Her eyes widened at the amount. After a moment's internal debate, she nodded. "Deal."
My mood soured further. Right. Only the money matters to her.
In the parking garage, she slid into the driver's seat while I dropped into the passenger side.
She gripped the steering wheel, opened her mouth, closed it, then tried again.
"Just say it," I muttered, leaning back against the headrest with my eyes closed.
"I... I do have a license," she said carefully, "but I haven't actually driven since I got it. Could you maybe remind me about... the basics?"
My eyes snapped open. "The basics? Like what?"
"Like... which pedal is which?"
I sat bolt upright, suddenly very awake and very concerned for my three-million-dollar car. "You're joking."
