Chapter 23 Chapter 23
Amelia
I decided to put Declan on hold for now and focus all my energy on Maxwell. If I could just reach him, maybe I could talk him out of this ridiculous marriage threat. I could offer him something else, anything but being tied to another man, even temporarily, was completely out of the question.
We headed to the racing grounds, back to where this whole madness began five years ago. Today was the biggest biker event of the year, and Maxwell said he would surely be there. Maybe, I would get a chance to speak with him.
We hadn’t even bothered changing into something more suitable after leaving the office, there was no time, and no mind for it.
We arrived at a ground already packed with people, the roar of engines hitting me the moment we stepped in. Heat, dust, and noise hung thick in the air, men shouting, bikes revving, music pounding through massive speakers. The biker race was nothing like the polished boardrooms I was used to, raw, untamed and alive.
How Maxwell managed to command respect both here and in the corporate world was beyond me. And yet, somewhere in this chaos, he would be calm, in control, and impossible to ignore.
Adele walked beside me, her expression tight, eyes scanning the crowd like a hawk. “He won’t be easy to reach,” she shouted over the roar of engines. “Look.”
I followed her gaze. Maxwell stood near the paddock, surrounded by men who looked more like walls than people, broad shoulders, leather vests, hard eyes that didn’t miss a thing. They didn’t just look intimidating; they radiated it.
These weren’t men you reasoned with; they were men who broke bones first and asked questions later.
My stomach knotted. “I have to try,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the roar of engines and the clamor of the crowd.
Adele let out a low sigh. “Then stay close. Don’t let us get separated, this place is way too crowded, and those men around him won’t hesitate to stop anyone who gets too close.”
We began moving carefully, weaving through the throng, pretending to belong even in our corporate clothes. My pulse raced, and my hands felt clammy, but I forced myself to keep moving, my eyes locked on Maxwell.
Twice we were stopped by guards, men whose sheer size and presence made me want to shrink into the crowd. They scrutinized us with cold suspicion, blocking our path, their arms like walls. I held my breath each time, heart hammering, afraid we might be turned away completely.
Then Maxwell turned. His gaze landed on me, Surprise flickered across his face, a flash of recognition, and he raised a hand, signaling to his men to let us pass. Relief surged, mingled with a spike of fear, this was it.
The closer I got, the harder it was to breathe. Maxwell’s smirk was there the moment we reached him, calm and almost teasing. Adele fell back slightly, positioning herself just behind me, giving me a clear path.
His eyes locked onto mine, sharp and assessing, as if he had been expecting me all along.
“Amelia Davis,” he said smoothly, a faint, almost mischievous smile tugging at his lips.
“You came, should I be scared you will slip an aphrodisiac into my drink today and fuck me hard like you did five years ago?”
He licked his lips in a flirty, provocative way, his gaze holding mine as if daring me to respond.
I swallowed hard. “We need to talk.”
He studied my face for a long, measured second, then gave a single, deliberate nod.
One of his men stepped aside, creating just enough space for us to speak privately, shielded from prying eyes and ears. From the corner of my vision, I saw Adele already flirting with one of the men, typical Adele, always finding a way to charm even in chaos.
“This has gone too far,” I said, my voice trembling despite my effort to sound firm.
“Please, I beg you to reconsider. I don’t want to marry you. Whatever you want, money, shares ask for something else.”
He looked at me and laughed, a low, amused sound that made my chest tighten. “You think I want any of that?” he said, shaking his head. “I could buy your entire company without even blinking. That’s how wealthy I am. All I need from you is to sign that marriage document.”
My stomach knotted. “You are destroying my life and everything my parents worked for,” I said, my voice trembling with a mix of anger and desperation.
He tilted his head, his eyes sharp and unwavering. “I am saving it,” he said smoothly, almost casually. “And, frankly, I am saving a lot of men out there from falling for your antics, and having their lives ruined.”
Tears burned my eyes, hot and threatening, but I forced them back. I refused to cry in front of him. “Please,” I whispered, my voice barely holding together. “Don’t do this.”
For the first time since I had reached him, something flickered across his face, something unreadable. Then it vanished, replaced by that familiar calm.
The words tasted like shame, but desperation pushed them out anyway. “Instead of marriage, I can be your sex slave,” I said, my voice breaking. “Anytime you call, I will answer. Please.”
He looked at me for a long moment, then slowly shook his head.
“If it’s not marriage,” he said flatly, his tone leaving no room for negotiation, “there is no deal.”
He stepped back, as if the conversation was already over. One of his men handed him a helmet. “I have a race to win,” he said, his voice calm but final. Before I could even gather my thoughts to speak again, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the roar of engines and chaos.
God… how do I get out of this? There was no powerful person I could call on to sway him, no one who could intervene. I spun around, looking for Adele, but she was nowhere in sight, lost in the crowd.
I stood frozen as he mounted his bike, the engine roaring to life beneath him. The crowd erupted, cheers and whistles blending into a deafening roar, while the announcer shouted his name as if he were already a legend crowned.
I edged to the sidelines, my heart hammering in my chest. The race began.
Bike after bike tore down the track, engines screaming, tires throwing up clouds of dust. Maxwell rode like he was untouchable, fast, precise, ruthless. One by one, his opponents fell behind. Some wiped out spectacularly, others slowed, unable to match his speed or skill.
He crossed the finish line first, the crowd erupting in wild cheers. But just after the victory, one of the other bikers rammed into him deliberately. Maxwell’s bike swerved violently.
Someone shouted, tires skidded, metal screamed against asphalt. Time seemed to stretch as he was thrown from the bike, his body slamming into a pole before hitting the ground hard and rolling violently to a stop.
The roar of the crowd vanished instantly, replaced by a chilling silence. My heart stopped. “No, no, no—” I whispered, panic flooding me, already breaking into a run toward him.
Men rushed onto the track from every direction. Someone shouted for medics, their voice sharp with panic. I pushed forward blindly, my heart slamming against my ribs.
Maxwell lay completely still on the ground, blood soaking his clothes, streaking the dirt beneath him. His helmet had rolled away, his face pale, his eyes closed.
Fear wrapped around my heart and squeezed until it hurt, the father of my kids lay broken and bleeding before me. The man who held my future, my survival in his hands was dying right in front of me.
If he died, I am completely and utterly finished.
Author's note: welppp, that was not expected, something is going to make Maxwell more determined🤧, what do you think it is?🤔