Chapter 7: In Maximilian’s World

“What happened? Who is the Crimson Syndicate?”

The words slipped out of my mouth right after Maximilian ended his phone call.

The car was still cutting through the road toward the airport, while the air inside the cabin felt colder and colder.

Maximilian glanced at me briefly.

“You don't need to know,” he answered curtly.

The man didn't explain anything. He also wore an expression as if I were forbidden from asking further. I could only stare at Maximilian for a few seconds before he turned his attention back to his phone.

Without wasting time, he dialed another number.

“The oil field the Crimson Syndicate is currently holding, take it over. Burn their marijuana fields too,” Maximilian ordered, his face flat.

His voice sounded cold. Even I, sitting beside him, felt the effect of it. The fine hairs on the back of my neck seemed to stand on end.

I swallowed.

“Make sure they understand that trying to take my head will only bring them more trouble.”

The call ended.

As for me? I forgot how to breathe properly.

Aside from the fact that my body was still in chaos from what Maximilian had done to me a while ago, the words I'd just heard disturbed my mind far more.

Someone wanted Maximilian's head, and the man spoke of it as if he were discussing a stock price that had dropped a few percent.

I straightened my sitting position. My body leaned further away from him before I turned my gaze to the window. The city lights flashed past quickly.

My breathing, which had been ragged, began to steady again. Unfortunately, the anxiety in my chest didn't ease at all.

I had known from the start that Maximilian Blackridge was a mafia king. But knowing something and witnessing it firsthand were two different things.

Only a few hours with him, and I had already seen a hostage situation, a death threat, a hail of bullets, and now an order to retaliate by destroying an enemy's business.

How much longer could I survive living in a world like this?

I raked my hair back roughly. My fingers, threaded through the strands, felt cold. Quietly, a single tear fell, wetting my cheek. I wiped it away quickly before Maximilian could see.

A few hours later, we had arrived at the airport.

Everything moved so fast. I didn't even have time to process what was happening when Lucas handed me a passport and a ticket.

Business class ticket, of course. A man like Maximilian surely didn't know what economy class was.

We sat side by side during the long flight to New York. But there was almost no conversation. I glanced at him a few times from the corner of my eye.

Ever since the name Crimson Syndicate had been mentioned, Maximilian's jaw kept tightening. His gaze was cold. Now and then he read documents on his tablet, now and then he closed his eyes without truly appearing to rest.

I didn't expect to talk with him. Even so, staying silent for such a long journey felt torturous. I could only watch the clouds through the plane window while letting my thoughts wander everywhere.

About Owen. About the marriage I never wanted. And about a future that now felt so unfamiliar.

***

“Welcome back, sir.”

The voice of a man dressed all in black broke my daydream the moment we walked out of the arrivals area at John F. Kennedy Airport.

He bowed respectfully. “The car is ready. Let me show you the way.”

Maximilian only nodded. He gripped my wrist and led me toward the waiting car.

I sighed softly. This man truly never asked whether I wanted to be held by the hand or not.

Once the car began driving away from the airport, I finally spoke up.

“Sir, my apartment is in Queens.”

The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. He seemed hesitant to answer. His gaze shifted instead to Maximilian, as if waiting for instructions.

A few seconds later, the deep voice beside me spoke.

“What do you mean?”

I turned to him.

“This is your car and your driver.” I shrugged. “You're surely going to drop me off first before heading back to your own place, aren't you?”

Before I could even blink, Maximilian's fingers had already gripped my chin.

I gasped. He forced me to look straight at him. His face drew closer. I could feel his warm breath brushing against my skin. I could even see my own reflection clearly in his eyes.

“We're husband and wife,” Maximilian stated, full of emphasis. “Why would we live apart?”

My heart immediately began pounding wildly. My jaw ached from his grip, but I chose to stay silent.

“Starting today, you'll be living at my place, baby girl,” Maximilian continued without showing any expression at all.

I raised both eyebrows high.

True. We were indeed married, and married couples usually lived together. The problem was, all of it had happened because of coercion.

I let out a long breath.

“My mind must be a mess from jetlag. Especially since you've been silent this whole time.”

Maximilian finally released my chin. He leaned back against the seat again.

“I didn't know you wanted to talk to me,” Maximilian said, looking straight at me.

I stared at him in disbelief.

“Damn it!” I laughed bitterly. “We just spent over 20 hours traveling. You confiscated my phone for security reasons. For your information, I breathe by socializing. That's why I became a wedding planner. I want to talk to anyone who has a mouth.”

Maximilian let out a slow breath. His gaze fell to the road ahead.

“I'm angry at someone else, and I don't want to be angry at you,” Maximilian replied.

I fell silent.

“But holding back that anger turned out to be so hard. So it's better for me to keep my mouth shut than to hurt your heart,” he continued.

I raised one corner of my lips. A bitter laugh escaped on its own.

Maximilian frowned, as if he didn't understand why I was laughing.

“You already hurt my heart the moment you forced me to marry you. Don't pretend to be kind now,” I shot back sharply.