Chapter 17 Dragging Max
Veronica's POV:
“Hey, my baby brother,” Max said, raising his glass with a crooked grin. “What are the odds, huh? You always show up right when I’m busy wasting myself… every single time.”
Theo sighed, the sound carrying more exhaustion than anger. His gaze then dropped to the table... where three neat white lines cut perfectly across the glass surface. “What the hell is this, Max?” His tone sharpened. “I thought we agreed on the no-drugs rule. Do you even realize you could die from this?”
However, Max only chuckled, leaning back on the couch with mock amusement. “Relax... Saint... Theo,” he said, too slow and slurred. “Death’s not really my plan tonight. I’m just… surviving in style.”
Theo’s jaw tightened. He leaned down and grabbed his brother’s arm firmly. “That’s it, Max... I’m done with this,” He commended. “Get up. We’re leaving. Now.”
But Max didn’t move. He stared up at Theo with a half-smirk, testing him. “Funny thing, Theo... even with me being the older one, you’ve always been the guy giving the orders, huh?”
Seeing the tension rising, I stepped in before it escalated further.
Gently, I took Max’s other arm and slung it over my shoulder. “Come on,” I said softly. “Let’s get you out of here, shall we?”
For a second, something flickered in his deep blue eyes... which was like recognition, surprise, maybe even shame.
His gaze met mine, and just like that, his attitude seemed to have left his body.
His smirk faded slowly—and he exhaled deeply, and finally stood up with us, making his weight leaning on both of us.
Even Theo looked startled by the sudden change in him.
“Keep walking, Veronica,” Theo said, quietly but firmly. “Let’s get him to the car.”
As we guided Max out of the dim, neon-lit club... past the flashing lights, pulsing music, and curious glances from the rich, intoxicated crowd—one thought lingered in my mind.
Had Max really yielded his rebellion… just for me?
The moment we reached the car, Theo lost what little patience he had left.
He practically shoved Max into the back seat. “There you go, brother,” he said, his tone came out clipped. “You can do whatever you want now.”
Max slumped against the seat, smirking faintly, clearly looking too dazed to respond.
Theo straightened his jacket and was just about to slide into the driver’s seat when his phone rang, vibrating urgently in his hand.
He frowned at the screen and answered.
“Okay… okay, fine,” he muttered after a moment, his expression tightening. “I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
When he hung up, his gaze met mine, which was serious and conflicted. “That was my client. He’s arrived early, and he’s waiting for me now.”
“Then you should go,” I said immediately. “I’ll drive Max back to the beach house.”
Theo’s brows furrowed. “No. Absolutely not.” His voice softened. “You can’t handle him, Veronica. Only I can.”
I took a breath, meeting his eyes steadily. “Trust me, Theo,” I said, somewhat feeling heavy. “I’ve handled worse than this.” I didn’t say my ex Chase’s name aloud — and I didn’t need to.
Theo’s expression shifted, understanding came into his green eyes. He hesitated for a long moment, then finally sighed.
“Fine,” he said. “I’ll take a cab to the meeting. You drive him home.”
He pulled the car keys from his pocket and tossed them toward me.
I caught them midair, the metal was cold against my palm.
As I turned on my heels to slip into the driver’s seat, I caught one last glimpse of Max through the car window, who was now slouched against the glass, half-asleep, half-smiling... as if the chaos of the world could never quite reach him.
A strange ache bloomed in my chest. Pity. That’s what I felt... or maybe something deeper, something more complicated.
Why else would he drink himself numb like this?
I could almost picture the scene in my mind: his father’s sharp words yelling at him for his misbehavior among the media, along with the disappointment and abusive words, and he finally might have chosen this to numb himself from pain.
I tightened my grip on the steering wheel.
It hit me then. I was not any different from him, as I was living with this same kind of pain.
I remembered that night on my penthouse rooftop... the cold wind, the burning alcohol, the unbearable weight of feeling unwanted by my own father.
And how it was him, Max, who had pulled me back from the edge.
Now, somehow, the roles had reversed. I was the one driving him home, holding his safety in my hands.
Life had a twisted sense of symmetry.
We were two different people... with the same wounds.
And in the end, it all circled back to the same source... the fathers who broke us.
It was a challenge to pull Max out of the car... as he was taller, and far more muscular than me. Every step felt like trying to move a mountain.
Thankfully, two of the household staff hurried over to help me.
Together, we managed to get him inside and up the stairs, where they gently laid him on the bed.
“Bring him some lemon water,” I said, brushing a strand of hair from my face... as I placed a hand on his forehead.
His skin was warm, his body, and his black hair was all slick with sweat. “And a warm compress too.”
When they left, I dipped the cloth into the bowl of water and began wiping away the sweat from his temples, his neck, his chest.
The heat radiating from him made me frown... which was like exhaustion mixed with alcohol, maybe even stress.
I unfastened the first two buttons of his shirt to help him breathe easier, the fabric parting just enough to reveal the curve of his chest—and the ink of his tattoos glistening with beads of sweat under the dim light.
I thought he was unconscious. He looked peaceful for once, looking still, almost fragile.
But then, his lips twitched into a faint, and a lazy smirk.
His voice came out rough, which was barely above a whisper.
“Go ahead, sweetie…” he murmured, his eyes still closed. “ No other girl has ever stopped at just two buttons. They mostly rip off my at this point. "
I froze at that, the cloth slipping slightly from my fingers.
Heat rushed up my neck as I glared down at him.
Of course. Even half-drunk and barely conscious, Maximilian Ashford had to flirt.