Chapter 101: Until She Returns
Two days later, the car ride to the airport felt longer than it should have been. Max’s hands rested steady on the steering wheel, though his jaw was tight. In the rearview mirror, he could see them—Damon and Valerie sitting close together, the picture of a married couple most people would envy.
Damon had one arm draped along Valerie’s back, leaning toward her as he spoke in a low voice meant only for her. Now and then, he’d reach for her hand or tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. Valerie kept her expression neutral, responding when she had to, though her gaze often wandered toward the window.
Max told himself to keep his focus on the road, but it was impossible not to hear.
“You’ll do great,” Damon said. “Don’t overthink, just do what you always do. You’re brilliant, Val.”
Valerie nodded lightly. “Thanks.”
“I’ll miss you,” Damon added, his hand now on her knee. “It’s going to be strange sleeping without you next to me.”
Max’s grip on the steering wheel tightened. He forced his eyes forward, but he could feel a slow burn in his chest. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t react, that he’d keep his cool no matter what. But watching Damon play the doting husband, after everything Valerie had confessed, felt like swallowing glass.
Through the reflection in the glass, Valerie caught the change in his expression.
Damon’s hand trailed higher on Valerie’s leg, his thumb tracing circles over her skin. That was when Max’s foot hit the brake a little too hard.
The car jerked forward, a quick, jarring stop that sent Damon’s hand flying off Valerie’s thigh. Both of them started in their seats.
“What the hell, Max?” Damon snapped, one hand braced against the seat.
Max shot a glance in the rearview mirror, his face a picture of mild apology. “Sorry about that. I thought I saw something crossing the street. My bad.”
There was nothing in front of them. The road stretched clear for a hundred yards.
Valerie knew it, too. She met Max’s eyes in the mirror, and for a split second, their gazes locked. His expression gave nothing away, but the message was clear enough. She almost wanted to laugh at how transparent his act was.
Damon muttered something under his breath and leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. Valerie turned her face toward the window again; she couldn’t help but smile. Max kept driving, the faintest smirk ghosting across his face before it disappeared.
The ride continued. Valerie stayed focused on the passing streets, unwilling to meet Damon’s eyes. Max drove steadily, his face calm again.
After a while, Damon reached over, taking Valerie’s hand again, and froze. His thumb brushed against her bare finger. His gaze darted down, then up to her face.
“Where’s your ring?” he asked.
Valerie’s head turned slightly, her expression giving nothing away. “What?”
“Your wedding ring,” Damon pressed. “You’re not wearing it.”
For a split second, she considered telling the truth, that she couldn’t stand the sight of it anymore, that it felt like a symbol of everything she wanted to forget. But instead, she drew in a slow breath and gave a quick, calm answer.
“It got dented,” she said. “I dropped. The band bent a little, so I brought it in to have it fixed.”
Damon frowned. “When did that happen?”
“Two days ago, I think,” she lied smoothly. “I didn’t want to risk it getting worse. You know how much I hate it when jewelry starts looking worn.”
He studied her for a moment, clearly unconvinced but unwilling to argue. “You should’ve told me,” he muttered.
“I didn’t think it was a big deal,” Valerie replied, keeping her tone even.
Damon leaned back in his seat, still eyeing her hand. But he said nothing more, except the displeasure sat plainly on his face.
From the driver’s seat, Max caught the whole exchange in the rearview mirror. He didn’t react outwardly, but something in his chest eased. Seeing her bare hand felt like a quiet victory, small but satisfying. Damon might not have noticed the meaning behind it, but Max did.
He turned his attention back to the road, suppressing the urge to smile.
The rest of the drive passed in a strained quiet—Damon staring out the window, Valerie lost in thought, and Max keeping his expression neutral.
Soon, they pulled into the airport’s private terminal just after noon. The sleek black car rolled to a stop beside the waiting jet, surrounded by several of Damon’s men already stationed nearby.
Max stepped out first and opened Valerie’s door. She smoothed the front of her dress and took Damon’s hand as he followed.
He leaned close, brushing his lips against Valerie’s temple. “Call me when you land,” he said. “I’ll be checking in every night.”
Valerie forced a polite smile. “I’ll do that.”
Then, he cupped her face and kissed her. Max turned away, his jaw tight. He focused on the car, anything to keep from watching.
When Damon finally pulled back, he rested his hand on Valerie’s lower back, guiding her toward the steps of the jet. Then he turned to Max.
“Thanks for taking this on again,” Damon said. “I know it’s been a long few days, but I need someone I trust watching her.”
Max nodded once. “You can count on me.”
Damon glanced around at the men nearby, then stepped closer. “My enemies don’t stay in one place,” he said quietly. “They reach further than they should. I don’t have any issues in Macau, but that doesn’t mean someone won’t try to get to me through her. You understand?”
“I do,” Max replied. “You have my word. I’ll protect her with my life.”
Damon clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Good man.”
Max gave a short nod and turned his focus toward Valerie, who was already walking toward the plane with Belle trailing behind. She didn’t look back.
When Damon left with his entourage, Max exhaled slowly, hands in his pockets. He’d just sworn to protect the woman he’d already broken every rule for.