Chapter 92
Maya's POV:
Marcus's hand froze mid-air.
Someone had grabbed his wrist.
I looked up.
Adam.
His presence filled the space between us, cold and lethal. Those gray-green eyes locked onto Marcus with the kind of focus that made grown men nervous.
Marcus's face went pale. "Mr. Sterling?"
Adam's grip tightened. I could see Marcus wince.
"Mr. Hayes." Adam's voice was soft. Dangerously soft. "Were you about to hit my woman?"
Marcus's eyes darted to me, recognition flashing across his face. "You're the one from the news—" He dropped my wrist immediately, stumbling back. "Mr. Sterling, this is a misunderstanding—"
CRACK.
Adam's fist slammed into Marcus's jaw.
Marcus hit the floor hard, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
I gasped. Chloe's hand flew to her mouth.
Adam stood over him, shaking out his knuckles casually. He smiled—cold, empty. "Oops. My bad. That was a misunderstanding too."
Marcus grabbed the edge of a chair, pulling himself up. His face was red. "Mr. Sterling, that's—that's assault! You can't just—"
"Can't just what?" Adam tilted his head. "Look, I already said it was a misunderstanding. You should be more forgiving, Mr. Hayes. More... magnanimous."
He threw Marcus's own words back at him.
Marcus's jaw clenched. He glanced at Chloe—hurt, anger, humiliation warring on his face—then turned and stormed out of the restaurant.
The silence that followed was deafening.
I exhaled slowly, my hands still shaking.
Adam turned to me. His expression softened slightly. Then he stepped forward, grabbed my face with both hands, and squeezed my cheeks together.
"Maya Bennett." His tone was half-annoyed, half-exasperated. "Do you have a death wish?"
I tried to talk, but my lips were squished into a pout. "Mmph—"
"Do you even know who that guy is?" Adam continued, not loosening his grip. "You just threw a drink in his face. Threw flowers at him. In public. What if I hadn't shown up? He was about to hit you, Maya."
I pulled his hands off my face, glaring. "So what? He's a piece of shit. He deserved it."
Adam's jaw tightened. He grabbed my face again, squeezing harder this time. My cheeks bunched up ridiculously.
"Listen to me." His voice dropped low, serious. "You don't confront men like that. Not alone. Not when you're at a disadvantage. If something happens, you find me. You let me handle it. Understand?"
"I'm not—"
"You think I'm joking?" He leaned in closer, his gray-green eyes boring into mine. "You want to stand up for your friend? Fine. But you do it smart. You call me. You text me. You don't put yourself in danger just to make a point."
My heart hammered against my ribs.
He let go of my face, running a hand through his hair. "Christ, Maya. You're going to give me a heart attack."
I pushed his chest, annoyed. "Stop treating me like a child."
"Then stop acting like one."
I opened my mouth to argue, then caught Chloe's expression.
She was sitting at the table, chin propped on both hands, grinning like the Cheshire Cat.
"Don't mind me," she said sweetly. "You two keep going. This is better than cable."
My face burned.
Adam glanced at her, then back at me. His lips twitched. "Want me to sit with you?"
"No." The word came out too fast.
He raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"Positive."
"Fine." He walked over to the table next to ours and sat down. "I'll be right here. In case you need backup."
Chloe bit her lip, trying not to laugh.
I sank into my chair, refusing to look at him.
---
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Adam bend down and pick something up.
The flower stems.
My stomach sank.
He looked at them for a long moment, then glanced at me.
I ducked my head, staring hard at my plate.
When I finally risked a glance, he was handing the mangled bouquet to a passing waiter with a completely straight face.
"Dispose of these, please."
"Of course, sir."
---
After we finished eating, I went to pay the bill.
The server smiled. "Your meal's already been taken care of, ma'am. The gentleman at that table."
I turned.
Adam was leaning back in his chair, looking infuriatingly pleased with himself.
He winked.
My eye twitched.
I grabbed Chloe's arm and dragged her out of the restaurant.
---
Adam's POV:
I waited until Maya's car pulled out of the lot before standing.
A server hurried over. "Sir? You dropped this."
He held out a set of keys.
I took them, glancing down.
Maya's.
I'd seen them a dozen times—dangling from her ignition, clutched in her hand, tossed onto her kitchen counter.
I smiled.
"Thank you."
---
"Mr. Sterling!"
I turned.
Two people stood behind me. A middle-aged man and a younger woman.
I didn't recognize them.
The man dropped to his knees.
"Mr. Sterling, I'm so sorry. I didn't know who you were. I—I offended you. Please—"
I frowned. "Who the hell are you?"
"You—you don't remember?" The woman—his daughter, maybe—helped him stand. "Dad, he doesn't remember us."
The man's face crumpled. "Mr. Sterling, I used to work for you. At the Cleveland Operations Center. I was the deputy director. My name is Victor Jameson."
Jameson.
The memory clicked into place.
My expression went cold.
Victor looked older—grayer, thinner, worn down. His daughter wasn't the designer-clad princess she used to be either. Her clothes were cheap. Her makeup was smudged.
They'd fallen hard.
Good.
"You're not an employee anymore," I said flatly. "You don't need to grovel."
Victor flinched. "I know. I just—I wanted to apologize. For my daughter. For everything. I should have controlled her. I should have—"
"You should have," I cut him off. "But you didn't."
I'd fired Victor the day I left Cleveland. His daughter—Vivian—I'd had her arrested. Sent to prison. She'd done time for what she did.
And judging by the look of them now, they were still paying for it.
Victor swallowed. "Vivian. Apologize."
She bowed. Ninety degrees. "Mr. Sterling, I'm sorry."
I didn't respond.
She stayed bent over, waiting.
I almost laughed.
They'd seen the news. They knew who I really was now. And they were terrified.
"Mr. Sterling—" Victor started.
I held up a hand.
A car engine rumbled nearby.
I turned.
Maya's Toyota.
She was back.