Chapter 70
Maya's POV:
The knock came just as I finished putting away the dinner dishes.
Amy looked up from her coloring book. "Someone's here!"
"I'll get it." I dried my hands on a dish towel and went to the door.
Through the peephole: Adam Sterling, leaning against my doorframe like he paid rent.
Of course.
I opened the door a crack. "Can I help you?"
He peered past me. "Just finished eating?"
"Yes. McDonald's is down the block if you're hungry." I started to close the door.
His hand caught it. Then his whole demeanor shifted—shoulders sagging, eyes going soft and pathetic.
"Maya, please. I'm starving. I can barely walk." He actually swayed a little. "Missed lunch. Back-to-back meetings all day."
Oh, for fuck's sake.
"That's not my problem—"
"Please?" The word came out almost like a whimper.
Goddammit.
I hated how easily he got to me. Hated that one pathetic look could crack my resolve. Hated myself for caring that he hadn't eaten.
"That's really pathetic, you know that?" I muttered.
"I know." He didn't even try to deny it.
I closed my eyes. Took a breath.
"Fine." I yanked the door wider. "Get inside before someone sees you."
---
I found myself in the kitchen, pulling out the chicken I'd meal-prepped earlier. This is ridiculous. Why am I doing this?
But my hands kept moving—turning on the stove, heating oil in the pan, seasoning a fresh piece of chicken.
I was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic.
But I kept cooking anyway.
Fifteen minutes later, I set a plate in front of him. Pan-seared chicken breast, white rice, steamed broccoli. Nothing fancy—just what I'd thrown together.
Adam took one bite and closed his eyes like I'd served him Michelin-star cuisine.
"This is incredible."
"It's just chicken."
"It's perfect." Another bite. That low hum of satisfaction that made heat crawl up my spine. "You know what this tastes like?"
"Mediocre meal prep?"
"Happiness." His gray-green eyes found mine. "This tastes like happiness, Maya."
Something in my chest cracked.
Amy giggled from across the table. "Is it really that yummy, Mr. Sterling?"
"Better than yummy, sweetheart." He smiled at her—that rare, real smile. "Your aunt's the best cook in Boston."
"You're doing the dishes," I said flatly.
"Yes, ma'am." He grinned.
Amy skipped off to her room after that, probably to punch her little boxing bag.
I retreated to my bedroom with my laptop. Work emails that couldn't wait.
---
I was almost done when knuckles rapped on my door.
"Maya."
Adam's voice. Low and careful.
I sighed, saved the document, and went to crack open the door. Leaned in the frame with my arms crossed. "What?"
"Dishes are done." He held up his hands—still damp, sleeves pushed to his elbows. "All of them."
Don't stare at his forearms. Don't.
"Great. You can leave now." I moved to shut the door.
He was inside in a flash.
The door clicked shut behind him. Locked.
"Adam!" I spun, pulse spiking. "What the hell? Amy could—"
"She's in the shower." He stayed against the door, blocking my exit. "I heard the water running."
"Get. Out."
"Maya—"
I lunged for the handle. He caught my wrist, pulled me close, and then—
His mouth crashed onto mine.
Desperate. Hungry. Tasting like the garlic I'd used on the chicken. His hand cupped the back of my head, fingers tangling in my hair, angling my face so he could kiss me deeper.
And God help me, I kissed him back.
How many nights had I dreamed this? Woke up alone and aching, convinced I'd never feel him again?
The narrow space between door and desk. His expensive cologne. The heat radiating off him. My neurons fired chaotic signals—want him closer need to breathe can't think—
"Maya..." My name against my lips like a benedication.
Reality slammed back.
I shoved hard. Stumbled until my spine hit the desk, putting blessed distance between us.
We stood frozen, chests heaving, the air crackling with everything unsaid.
I turned my back. Pressed my palms flat against the desk. "Adam, please stop doing this to me."
Silence.
"We broke up." My voice shook. "This isn't... I don't want to be like this with you."
Liar.
I felt him move closer. Felt his presence like gravity.
Then his arms circled my waist from behind.
I went rigid. He held on.
He bent, pressed his forehead to my shoulder. "Maya, let's get back together. I want what we had. I want to kiss you. Hold you. Do all the things we used to do."
"Stop talking."
"I have to say this—"
"I don't want to know."
"You need to know."
"Adam, you're being pathetic." I tried to twist free. He held tighter. "Following me around, cornering me—what's the point? We're done."
"Maybe I am pathetic." His breath warmed my neck. "But I kissed you tonight. And you kissed me back. That's progress."
Shit. He was right.
"Maya." His voice dropped to gravel. "You still have feelings for me. Stop pretending you don't."
I yanked out of his grip. Put the room between us. Stood by the window where cold air leaked through the old frame.
"Fine. Yes. I'm attracted to you." I faced him. "You're Adam Sterling. Rich, hot, the whole package. Most women would be. That doesn't mean anything."
"It means everything—"
"It means nothing!" My voice cracked. "I'm a normal person, Adam. Yeah, I used to want to marry money. You've got plenty of it. But you're too rich. Too powerful. I can't handle someone like you. Don't you get it?"
The words echoed in the small room.
His jaw tightened. Eyes went cold. "Done?"
"Yeah."
Three strides and he was in front of me. Grabbed my chin. Forced eye contact. Firm grip—not painful, but absolute.
"Listen carefully, Maya. This time I'm in control. I don't care what scares you. I don't care what secret you're keeping from me." His thumb traced my lower lip. "I'm not letting go."
"Let go of me—"
He released my chin only to wrap me in his arms. Held me so tight I could barely breathe.
His mouth found my ear. Low. Intense.
"I'm waiting for you to tell me your secret yourself."