Chapter 76
Maya's POV:
I watched Chloe disappear into the crowd with Parker, their bodies already pressed close, his hand on her lower back. Something was clearly happening between them—something that had nothing to do with tonight.
I didn't stop her.
I made my way to one of the booths, sinking into the leather seat. The bass pounded through the floor, vibrating up through my chest. I hated places like this. Too loud. Too crowded. Too many drunk people making terrible decisions.
A glass of orange juice sat in front of me. I took a sip, wishing I were home.
Someone slid into the seat next to me.
Ethan.
He had a tumbler of whiskey in his hand, ice clinking against the glass. I didn't acknowledge him. The last time we'd spoken—at The Harvard Club—he'd made it crystal clear what he thought of me. Gold digger. Opportunist. Not good enough for his precious friend Adam.
I had nothing to say to him.
"Coming to a bar and drinking juice," Ethan said, swirling his glass. "What's the point?"
I turned my head slowly, meeting his eyes. "I'll drink whatever I want."
He blinked, caught off guard.
"Maya," he said, leaning back with a smirk. "You've got Adam wrapped around your finger. Pretty impressive manipulation."
Here we go.
I set my glass down carefully. "If you don't like me, you can sit somewhere else."
His smirk faltered. "You think I want to be here? I'm only watching you because Adam asked me to. This is a joke."
"Then don't." I stood, grabbing my juice. "No one's forcing you."
I walked away before he could respond, finding another seat across the room. Within minutes, I saw him pull some woman in a low-cut dress onto his lap, already distracted.
Good. Stay there.
I was scrolling through my phone when a shadow fell over me.
"Hey, beautiful." A man reeking of cologne and beer stood there, holding two drinks. "Juice? That's boring. Come on, let me buy you something fun."
I looked up. Mid-thirties. Slicked-back hair. Eyes already glassy.
"I don't drink," I said flatly.
"Don't be shy." He sat down without asking, pushing one of the glasses toward me. "This one's sweet. You'll love it. One sip, and you'll want more."
I stood. "I'm fine. Thanks."
His hand shot out, grabbing my wrist.
"Hey—don't run off." He stood too, leaning closer. His breath was hot and sour. "Stay. Have some fun."
"Let go." My voice was low, warning.
He didn't.
Instead, he bent down, his face inches from mine, lips curling into a grin.
I froze.
A fist came out of nowhere.
The man crumpled to the floor with a sickening thud. People screamed. Glasses shattered.
I looked up.
Adam.
His jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jumping. His eyes were dark, furious, veins standing out along his forearms as he rolled his shoulders back.
The man on the floor groaned, scrambling backward.
Adam stepped forward, raising his foot.
"Adam—stop!" I grabbed his arm.
He froze. Then turned.
The rage in his face didn't fade—it just redirected.
Straight at me.
"Maya!" His voice was a roar, loud enough to cut through the music. "This is what you do? You dump Amy on me so you can come to a place like this and mess around? Really?"
My stomach dropped. "It's not—"
"Not what?" He stepped closer, towering over me. "If I hadn't shown up, you'd have let that disgusting asshole kiss you!"
"That's not true!" I shot back. "I would've pushed him off—"
"Sure you would."
People were staring now. Pulling out phones. Whispering.
Adam grabbed my wrist and dragged me toward the exit.
"Adam, wait—"
He didn't listen. He shoved the door open with one hand, pulling me into the cold night air. His car was right there, engine still running. He opened the passenger door and practically threw me inside.
The door slammed.
He got in, shifted into gear, and peeled out onto the street.
---
I sat rigid in my seat, hands clenched in my lap.
Amy.
"Adam," I said quietly. "Where's Amy?"
"Oh, now you remember you have a kid?" His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. "I thought you'd forgotten."
I forced myself to take a slow breath. "Where. Is. Amy?"
He didn't answer.
I softened my voice. "Look, I didn't plan to go to the bar tonight. It just… happened. Chloe wanted—"
"Your legs work fine, don't they?" he snapped. "No one forced you."
"Adam. Can we just talk like adults?"
"If I catch you in a place like that again," he said, voice deadly calm, "I'll lock you up myself."
I muttered under my breath, "We're not together. You don't get to control me."
His head whipped toward me. "What did you say?"
"Nothing."
The car lurched to a stop.
I barely had time to process before Adam unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over, shoving me back against the seat.
His mouth crashed into mine.
It wasn't gentle. It was angry, desperate, punishing. His hand slid under my shirt, fingers hot against my skin.
I gasped—and slapped him.
Hard.
Adam froze.
He pulled back just enough to stare at me, eyes wide, disbelieving.
"Maya," he whispered. "You hit me."
There was something in his voice. Something wounded.
"Get. Your hand. Off me." I was shaking.
He pulled his hand out slowly, fingers dragging across my stomach. His eyes were still locked on mine, burning with heat. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.
"Maya." His voice was rough. "Can I… can I just kiss you? I won't touch. I promise."
I shoved him back. "No! Stop touching me!"
"What about kissing?"
"No."
He stared at me, jaw tight. "Not even once?"
I kept my face turned away. "No."
"When, then?" His voice dropped. "When will you let me?"
"Never."
He stared at me. "You're going to kill me, you know that?"
I turned my head, refusing to look at him. "Take me to get Amy."
Silence.
Then he sat back, buckled his seatbelt, and started driving again.