Chapter 8; who does he think he is?

MAYA’s POV

I didn’t even realize I was being pulled away until my feet started moving.

His fingers closed around my wrist, firm but not rough, and suddenly I wasn’t standing in the room anymore. The noise, the lights, the eyes on me—it all blurred as he guided me through the space. No one tried to stop him. They just moved aside like he owned the place.

I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

I clutched my other hand to my chest, half-walking, half-stumbling as he dragged me out the back door. He didn’t stop until we were fully outside, away from the noise. The cool night air slapped against my skin, and that was when it hit me.

I didn’t even get the chance to pick anything. My bag. My jacket. My dignity—somewhere behind us, probably still lying on the sticky floor.

I was still in the uniform. The short black dress barely passed as clothing. How did I not fall in this damn heels?

Oh God.

I instinctively checked my pocket with my free hand, panic spiking, and nearly cried when I felt the shape of my phone. Thank God. At least I wasn’t completely stranded and half-naked without a lifeline.

Then he released my wrist.

I staggered slightly, catching my balance, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was trying to escape my chest.

“What—” I started, then stopped.

My tongue felt heavy.

What did he think he was doing?

I looked up at him, standing there like this was the most normal thing in the world. Tall and still with one hand casually in his pocket. 

He seemed Completely in control, tight jaw. His face unreadable.

I swallowed.

“Mr… Mr Harr—”

No. That sounded odd. With our past relationship, it sounded too formal. Too distant. Well, we were never close.

“Xavi—”

No. Definitely wrong. Too personal, as he’s now my boss. If he hasn’t even terminated the contract. My chest tightened just thinking about it.

I cleared my throat, heat rushing up my neck. “I mean… sir—”

Why was this so hard?

I can’t remember addressing him directly before. Not even back in school. He was always Dan’s friend. The quiet one. The one who watched more than he spoke. The one you noticed without realizing why.

“What are you… what are you doing?”

He tilted his head slightly, one brow lifting. “Oh,” he said calmly, almost lazily. “You do have a voice now.”

My face burned.

“That’s not—” I stopped myself, pressing my lips together. Don’t embarrass yourself more than you already have.

I crossed my arms without thinking, then uncrossed them just as quickly when I realized it made my dress ride up even more. Great. Perfect.

“Why did you do that?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Do what?” He didn’t even looked at me, just typed something on his phone very fast and shoved it back in his pocket.

“You said I resigned,” I blurted out. “You didn’t even ask me. It’s not even your business.”

My heart was beating fast.

I swallowed. “I mean—thank you. But you can’t just—”

I stopped, frowning. “Actually, can you?”

My thoughts tripped over themselves. I didn’t know whether to be angry, embarrassed, or relieved.

“And why did you drag me out like that?” I added. “I didn’t even get my things. I didn’t even change.”

I glanced down at myself, painfully aware of how exposed I looked.

He studied me for a moment. Not in a way that made my skin crawl. Just… carefully.

“You’d rather stay?” he asked.

“No,” I said quickly. Too quickly. “I mean—yes. No. I don’t know.”

I exhaled. “This is confusing.”

Before I could say anything else, headlights swept across us.

A sleek black car pulled up smoothly, and the valet stepped out and handed the keys to Xavier.

I stared at it, recognition settling in slowly.

The one I’d noticed earlier when I arrived at the club. So I wasn’t overthinking, after all.

I let out a small, breathless laugh before I could stop myself.

He opened the passenger’s door and looked at me expectantly. “Get in.”

I hesitated.

“I— What…” I gestured vaguely. “Where are we going?”

He didn’t answer that. Instead, he asked, “Where do you live?”

The question threw me completely off balance.

“what?”

“Your address,” he said evenly.

My brain scrambled. Was he sending me home? Was this charity? Pity? Some billionaire version of damage control?

I opened my mouth to argue. To tell him that he doesn’t need to.

Instead, the words left my mouth before I could overthink them. The moment I said it, I tensed.

Why did I just tell him my address?

He nodded once and stepped back. “Get in.”

I stood there for a second longer, then climbed into the car before my brain could catch up.

The door closed softly behind me.

The interior smelled clean. Expensive. Like leather and something faintly familiar, maybe cologne. I slid across the seat awkwardly, my dress riding up again, making me tug at the hem in frustration.

I pressed my knees together and stared out the window, suddenly very aware of how ridiculous I must look sitting in a billionaire’s car dressed like a club prop.

The door on his side opened and closed and the car started moving.

Silence filled the space.

Why was he doing this?

Why now?

I replayed the moment in the club again and again. The way he didn’t hesitate when the manager reached for me, I can’t believe he’d have hit me.

My throat tightened.

I shouldn’t feel grateful. I shouldn’t feel anything.

And yet.

I shifted in my seat, trying to pull my dress down again, annoyed at how the fabric refused to cooperate. Who designed clothes like this? And why did my coworker enjoy wearing them every weekend?

I glanced at him from the corner of my eye.

He sat still, one hand resting casually on his thigh, the other on the steering while his elbow rested on the armrest. His expression hadn’t changed. Calm and distant. 

I imagined him dropping me off and driving away without another word. Honestly, that might be better. Less confusing.

My phone vibrated in my pocket but I didn’t check it.

I leaned my head back against the seat, closing my eyes briefly.

Few days ago, my biggest worry was whether Elena was okay.

Now I was in a stranger’s car—no, not a stranger. Worse. Someone tied to too many memories I didn’t want to unpack.

Life had a strange sense of humor.

I opened my eyes again, staring out at the passing streetlights, wondering how I’d explain this night to my friends.

And most of all, wondering why his presence beside me felt both unsettling and oddly… reassuring.

The car moved smoothly through the city, carrying me forward whether I was ready or not.

And I had a feeling this wasn’t just about getting me home.