chapter 49

I didn’t say much on the drive and thankfully it was a short drive. Max didn’t press either.

He kept the conversation light, focused on the playlist playing softly through his speakers. Songs we used to like. Songs he’d once used to win me over. I sat there, letting the silence between us thicken, unsure if I was more curious… or cautious.

We ended up at a café just around the office area. I wasn't done with work so I told him couldn't go somewhere far. Max said it was a new favourite, small and intimate enough to have a real conversation. The waitress even knew him by name. Interesting fact.

The café was quiet, tucked into the corner of the block with warm lighting and that upscale rustic charm people liked to pretend wasn’t expensive.

We found a spot by the window, and he pulled out my chair like a gentleman. “Thought you might be too busy to say yes,” he said, folding his sleeves as he settled across from me.

I smiled faintly. “I almost was.”

“But you came.”

“I did.”

He leaned back, studying me for a second. “You’ve changed, you know.”

I arched a brow. “That a good thing?”

“Depends.” He grinned. After we placed our orders, Max leaned in slightly, folding his hands on the table like he had something important to say.

“So,” he began, voice low, eyes searching, “how are you really doing, Lila? With everything your work, the baby, your health… I’ve been thinking about you.”

It was the softness in his tone that unsettled me the most.

“I’m fine,” I replied, offering a small smile. “Just trying to keep my head above water with work and everything else.”

“I know it’s a lot,” he said, “and I just want to be here for you through it all. Have you scheduled your next doctor’s appointment?”

“Not yet,” I said carefully. “I’m thinking next week.”

His expression brightened. “Then let me come with you. I mean it. I want to be there.”

I shook my head gently. “That’s sweet, Max, but it’s not necessary.”

“I insist,” he said. “Unless… you don’t want me there?”

I hesitated, then softened my tone. “No, it’s not that. I’ll let you know the date once I fix it.”

He relaxed again, settling back into his seat. “Good.”

The waiter returned with our drinks and appetizers, and the conversation dipped into easy pleasantries again. Max was charming, always had been but tonight, his words were sharper. Intentional. I noticed how his eyes never strayed too far from mine. How he kept circling back to one thing.

Work.

“So, how’s work?” he asked halfway through his food. “I’ve been seeing more buzz online. Seems like this project’s going to be bigger than anyone thought.”

I nodded, casually. “It’s coming together.”

“You must be proud. I mean, it’s not every day someone gets to spearhead something for Drew Sinclair.”

My gaze narrowed, just a little. “It’s a team effort.”

“Still… he trusts you. That much is obvious.” He tilted his glass. “I just hope he appreciates what he’s got.”

I ignored the compliment. “The project’s been intense, but good. Worth it.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “So what’s the hook?”

Just like I expected, he was fishing for more information

“What hook?” I asked, keeping it vague.

He reached for his water. “I know you said you’re handling a lot on the launch. I still mean what I said the other night. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’m here. You don’t have to carry all that alone.”

“I’ve got it under control.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he chuckled. “But… come on. I’m not some stranger. I have connections. If I knew what direction you guys were going, I could maybe, connect a few dots. Open some doors. And it's not like I'm asking for trade secrets. Just… broad strokes. I like knowing what you’re passionate about.”

There it was again. That push.

Subtle. Wrapped in concern. But still a push.

I took a breath, tilted my head, and offered a polished smile.

I sipped my drink slowly, eyes not leaving his. “Thanks, Max. But it’s not that kind of project.”

“But what kind of project is it?” he asked lightly, cutting into his food. “Everyone already knows it's hotel line. So what makes this one special?”

It seemed like a harmless question but there was nothing harmless about it. I couldn't reveal the details to him but I needed him to feel like I trusted him so I can figure out his true intentions.

So I gave him just enough.

“It’s not that deep,” I said, brushing my fork through my salad. “It’s about fusing art into hospitality. The whole theme is making hotels feel like living, breathing museums. The concept’s still taking shape, really.”

His eyes lit up.

“That’s brilliant,” he said. “And lucky for you, I know the best artists in the city. I’ve helped curate shows in the past Lila. If you tell me what kind of art pieces you’re looking at, I could get you exclusive access to collections no one else could.”

I tilted my head. “That’s generous of you.”

“Not generous,” he said, grinning. “Supportive.”

He meant it to sound sweet. But it settled into my stomach like something sour.

“Thanks,” I murmured, refocusing on my plate.

A few minutes later, Max excused himself to use the restroom. I watched him disappear around the corner, the quiet hum of the café filling in behind his absence.

That’s when it happened.

His phone buzzed.

Twice.

It was faced up on the table, the bright screen lighting up against the dark wood. My eyes flicked toward it on instinct.

One message.

From a contact saved only with an emoji. No name. Just a chess pawn.

The kind of anonymity people use when they don’t want to be traced.

I told myself to look away.

But I didn’t.

The message preview flashed across the screen. One sentence. Casual, blunt and dangerous.

♟️: “Has she told you anything interesting about the launch?”

My breath caught.

And suddenly, the salad turned to sawdust in my mouth.

I stared at the phone like it had grown teeth. The screen dimmed. The message vanished into the lock screen like it had never been there.

But it had.

And now I couldn’t unsee it.