Chapter 3

Max's POV

It's obvious the girl has been drugged. 

What can I say? I tried to warn her when she bumped into me. But it seems she didn't listen to my advice. So, now I'm wondering: what should I do about her?

Her quiet breathing is the sole indication that she is still alive as she lies still in my arms. She feels cozy and petite against my chest. Sadly, I don't think she will wake up anytime soon. 

If only I could figure out which of the powerful people here tonight caused this. 

I look around the room, trying to find someone strong enough to try this in front of so many people. Someone with ties to the underworld. Someone strong enough to keep the others quiet. A person used to having their way. Fortunately for me, there's just one individual who meets that criteria. 

"Ah, I see you've found my plaything." 

Mr. Martini steps through the mob towards me, as though he's been called. His shirtfront is smeared with blood, and it appears his nose is shattered. Though it's short-lived, the thought of this tiny girl roughing him up so severely makes my veins tingle with pleasure. 

A few women and several men respectfully nod as he passes, despite his scars. Most likely, some are trying to win his favor, but others... I make an effort to ignore it. 

People are changed by money and desperation. forces people to take actions they wouldn't otherwise. 

"You made a mistake," I say sternly. 

The girl stays still in my arms. If not, I'm very confident she's completely unconscious because Mr. Martini's approach would have undoubtedly caused a reaction. 

"Is that so?" He says with a sneer 

I'd shoot someone in the head if they ever attempted to speak to me in such a manner. He should be apologizing right now. 

No, he should be pleading. 

I'm not sure if it's because I don't like Mr. Martini or because she asked for my help, but one thing is certain: I don't want him to touch her. 

At all. 

The only issue is that there's only one way to get him to back off. However, I've never shied away from a challenge, so... 

"She's mine," I grit my teeth.

Not impressed, he scowls. Given my supposed betrothal I don't think he is convinced enough.

"She was alone." "I wandered off," I respond. "Are you responsible for the state she's in?" I try to convey as much rage as I can in my tone. It's not hard, considering how I'm feeling. 

A look of shock crosses his face. He hesitates, as though considering the advantages of challenging me. 

We have similar money and social connections, despite his seniority. The Irish Mob is serious business, even though he may be the Don of the Martini family. My reputation stands before me. If I truly came here with her, it would be risky to offend me. 

If he believes me, that is. 

Finally, he apologizes, saying, "I didn't realize she was yours. I apologize for intruding." Even so, he turns to leave the room, giving her a suspicious look. 

Thank heaven that is over. 

I turn to face the girl I'm holding. Her makeup is smeared where tears fell down her face, and her curly, dark brown hair is wild. She must be young if she is a student, but I'm not sure how old she is, mid-20s, perhaps? I give her a light shake in an attempt to wake her, but she doesn't respond. 

Probably not conscious then.

This is a disaster. Even though I saw she needed assistance when she stumbled through the door, I should have ignored her.

I notice something in my side vision.

Oh no, what do I do next?

I look at the woman who snapped my picture. She visibly flinches, but I release her. It's too late to avoid causing a commotion, and she's likely not the only one who took a photo of me tonight. She's the only one drunk enough to leave her flash on.

Well, it's too late to turn back now. Whatever I do next, tomorrow my entire family will be aware of what I did. I can't just leave the girl here, either. It's unlikely that anyone else will save her. 

I bend down to lift her, holding her like a bride, making sure she doesn't fall. Her smell is different from the fancy Chanel perfume I usually smell on women nearby; instead, it's like a mix of floral shampoo and coconut. It's surprisingly refreshing. 

As I adjust the girl's weight in my arms, a man gives me a questioning glance. I look back without flinching. I have no choice but to carry her out because she is not going to be walking anytime soon. 

When I move in the direction of the door, the crowd readily separates. As soon as they realize who I am, any interested bystanders get fascinated with my shoes. I can freely enjoy that benefit at least from my family's legacy. 

"Excuse me."

A Hispanic girl with vivid red hair walks into my path, and judging by the expression on her face, she's determined to stop me from leaving. She must be a different student because I don't recognize her. 

Fantastic. 

"Yes?" I say. 

"My name is Mia. That's my friend." She points to the girl I'm holding. 

"Oh." I find myself searching my head for an explanation while a smile appears on her face. 

"I knew she was worried about something! But a secret boyfriend? 

I'm too stunned to speak, but Mia seems content enough to let me off the hook. 

That was unexpected.”

“Tell her to give me a call tomorrow. I'm curious about everything!" 

She doesn't go far before a man appears at her side. Not just any dude, either. I know him as Mr. Huang, the successful tech entrepreneur and Taiwanese triad boss's son. He's one of the only people here that I know can be trusted because our families have supported one another in the past.

Well, as reliable as anyone in our industry, anyway. 

I acknowledge him with a nod as I walk by, ignoring the questioning glance he directs at me. 

The doorman waves the valet down as I get closer to the exit. 

"Mr. Blackwood," I tell him. 

I'm getting closer to my getaway when he comes back a few minutes later with the black SUV I leased for the weekend. 

"Thank you." 

I get the lady inside when he opens the passenger side door for me. After making sure she's securely fastened in her seat, I take out a $100 bill from my coat pocket and give it to him. His eyes enlarge, but he still nods gratefully. Shutting the door, I proceed to the driver's side. 

It's time to leave.

I get out of the institution as quickly as I can without putting my passenger in danger. The sooner we find a private place, the better. We won't be late because, happily, the hotel I reserved is nearby. 

The only people in the parking lot are an old couple who are arguing. I get out of the car after waiting for them to go inside. I open the door while walking to the passenger side and then halt. 

I just stare at the lady in my car who is asleep. 

Was bringing her here a good idea? Is she aware of the situation she's put herself in? She's in danger, despite my good intentions. Mr. Martini does not forgive easily nor does he forget easily. It won't be safe for her. 

Not unless she's in my custody. 

I calm down and undo her seatbelt, then carefully lift her in my arms. She moves a little, but she's still not awake enough to move on her own.

I whisper, "Almost there," in case she hears me. 

Fucking Hell. I must be a complete moron. 

My hands are full, so I have to use the front entrance, but the desk employee is too busy staring at their phone to see me. 

My right-hand man, Nico, is standing outside my room, waiting for me. 

As I come closer, I nod to him and ask, "Mind getting the door?" 

He gives me a sidelong glance but complies. 

"Where'd you get the girl?" "Stole her from Mr. Martini." 

He becomes stiff and gives me a suspicious look. Mr. Martini can be dangerous when it comes to ladies, as we both know. The last female who refused him got washed up at the Tennessee River's bottom. Although her cause of death was officially declared to be suicide, there is more to the story than that. Not to mention... 

"May I ask why?" 

I have to give him credit for his remarkable composure in this situation. I'll take care of my family later, but I'm sure they'll have heard about the night's happenings by morning.

"She stepped on my shoe." 

Nico nods as if it all made sense. 

"I'll see you in the morning," I conclude. 

I'm alone in the room that is, excluding the lady, as he shuts the door behind me. 

I carefully place her on the bed. She groans but doesn't wake up just yet. The time on the bedside says 12:45. Maybe she'll wake up in an hour? 

Among the many things I've done drugging women is something I have not done. How much longer will it take? 

While I'm waiting, I might as well get ready for the consequences. 

I look over her shoulder to see whether she has a purse on, but she doesn't have one on. She must, at least, have a cell phone. I look at her eyes, confused, then see the odd design sewed into the side with sequins. 

No, pockets—not pattern. 

I flip her over so I can have a closer look at them. In the process, her lips part slightly as her head tilts upward, catching my attention. The color they painted is a deep purple that matches her warm skin tone perfectly. Even when she's asleep, her beauty is exceptional. 

What the hell am I thinking?

I pull my eyes away so I can concentrate on the work at hand. I reach into her pocket and unzip it. I successfully wrap my fingers around a metal object and take out a cell phone. 

Finally. 

A couple of text messages are written across the screen when it brightens. I quickly glance over them, looking for any information that would help me figure out who she is and where she's from. 

Unfortunately, it appears that they are all from "Roommate Mia," who is probably the friend I spoke with earlier. The first one says, "Ava, oh my god You were hiding something, and I knew it!!!!!! Give me a call tomorrow. 

I quickly close the remaining messages, not wanting to snoop around. I simply need to make sure that she isn't expected somewhere else tonight so she can gossip with her friend afterward. An angry parent calling the cops is the last thing I need. They wouldn't dare touch me, but it's best to maintain a fairly clean public image... 

I find the idea amusing. As if my reputation wasn't already awful enough. 

Speaking of... 

The pictures from tonight won't look good for the engagement that my mother is putting a lot of effort into planning. They will undoubtedly spread far and wide tomorrow. The Romanos will not be happy when they discover that I've been taking another woman home for the weekend. They may even decide to call off the wedding. 

I turn back to face the girl on my bed. 

The issue still stands: what should I do about her? 

Mr. Martini will not hesitate to find her if I send her home. 

Tonight, I've been able to save her, but tomorrow? 

The following day? 

I take my phone out of my jacket pocket and locate Nico's contact. 

I text, "Need info on the girl." 

He won't see it till the morning. Perhaps by breakfast, I'll have some answers or at least a plan for how to handle her. 

I should have known better than to become involved, but I couldn't help but feel tempted to take her away from Mr. Martini. especially after she directly asked me to help her.

Nico's chastising words are already playing in my mind: You let your emotions get the better of you... 

Of course, he is right. 

Unfortunately for everyone, I am not a robot. 

I'm just a man. 

A man desperate for a wife... 

Something dawns on me. 

Maybe this isn't as disastrous as it seems. I need a way out, and she needs protection. This is a clear solution to each of our issues. We may work out a win-win agreement that benefits us both. A financial and legal alliance. 

It's not really personal at all. 

Just business. 

I look at the time. It says 1:30. It will be a little more than six hours if I sleep until eight. I should better get what I can. 

Once more, I glance down at the girl. She doesn't know what to expect. I only hope she'll have enough faith in me to allow me to help her. If not... The last time I failed to save someone I cared about flashed through my head. 

Before the thought has a chance to settle in, I ignore it. I don't need to concentrate on such things during my waking hours either—my nightmares already cause me more than enough harm. 

I take off my jacket and carefully set it on the only chair in the room as I consider my alternatives. I don't want to undress more and risk waking her up too soon. There's only one bed, too. It is best to leave everything turned on.

After I've sorted that, I try to put as much distance between us as I can and lay down. 

Though it's not much, it will suffice. 

Tomorrow, I'll worry about everything else.