Behind The Mask

Chapter 16: The Cold Reality

POV : Fiona

I stared at the gold key card resting on my tablet.

For a few seconds, the only sound in the grand lobby of the executive floor was the quiet hum of the elevator. My assistant, Chloe, was practically holding her breath.

I did not yell. I didn't throw the key card back at Camilla's perfectly painted face. I just looked at it, and then I looked back into her eyes.

"I am the United Nations Ambassador for Global Education," I said, my voice dangerously quiet and steady. "I negotiate international treaties. I do not fluff pillows, and I certainly do not clean up after you. Take your key, Camilla, and get out of my building."

Camilla’s smug smile faltered for a fraction of a second. She was not used to me fighting back. Two years ago, she could walk into my house and make me cry just by looking at me.

"You really think you're special now, don't you?" Camilla hissed, stepping closer. "You think a fancy title changes who you are? Maxwell owns this project. He owns you. And when he gets up here, he is going to remind you exactly where you belong."

"Is there a problem here?"

The deep, commanding voice echoed down the hallway.

My heart gave a painful kick against my ribs.

I turned my head. Maxwell was walking toward us. He was wearing a dark charcoal suit, his hands tucked into his pockets. He looked incredibly powerful, but there was a tired shadow in his eyes.

The moment Camilla saw him, her entire posture changed. The wicked, cruel bully vanished. She instantly turned into a soft, helpless victim.

"Maxwell, darling!" Camilla cried out, running over to him and wrapping her arms tightly around his waist. She buried her face against his chest. "Thank goodness you're here. I just arrived from a fourteen-hour flight to surprise you, and your new employee is being absolutely awful to me."

Maxy stiffened. He looked down at Camilla clinging to him, and then his eyes slowly dragged across the room to meet mine.

All the air left my lungs.

Just yesterday, in the back of the limousine, those same eyes were completely wild with passion. He had kissed me like I was the only thing keeping him alive. He had begged me to believe his feelings were real.

Now, he was looking at me while the woman who destroyed our marriage held him in her arms.

"What is going on, Ambassador?" Maxwell asked. His voice was completely flat, cold and professional.

I swallowed the sharp lump of pain in my throat. I stood perfectly straight. "Miss Jones barged into a secure UN facility and demanded that I leave my job to go to your hotel room and make the bed for the two of you."

I waited.

I waited for the man from the limo to show up. I waited for him to push Camilla away. I waited for him to defend me, to tell Camilla she was out of line, to prove that his grand, two-million-dollar gesture actually meant something.

Maxwell looked at me for a long moment. His jaw tightened. The muscle in his cheek ticked.

Then, he looked down at the gold key card sitting on my tablet.

"Take the key, Fiona," Maxwell said.

The words hit me like a physical punch to the stomach.

Chloe gasped out loud. Even Camilla looked slightly surprised before a massive, victorious grin spread across her face.

"Excuse me?" I whispered. My ears were ringing. I could not feel my hands.

"You heard me," Maxwell said, his voice hard and entirely empty of emotion. He wouldn't look me in the eye anymore. He stared strictly at the wall behind my head. "Camilla is my guest. I want everything to be perfect for her stay. Go to the hotel and make sure the suite is prepared."

The silence that followed was deafening.

The tiny, fragile sliver of hope that had kept me awake all night- the hope that he had finally changed- shattered into a million sharp, bleeding pieces inside my chest.

He had not changed. He was exactly the same. He did not want a partner. He wanted a possession. He wanted to break my pride, humiliate me, and put me back in my place just to prove that he still controlled me.

"Of course, Mr. Jordan," I said. My voice did not even sound like my own. It sounded like a ghost.

I didn't pick up the key card. I simply turned around and walked into my private office, shutting the door behind me.

The second I was alone, my legs gave out. I leaned back against the solid wood, covering my mouth with my hand to catch the broken, tearing sob that ripped out of my throat.

I was so stupid. So incredibly, hopelessly stupid.

I forced myself to stand up. I walked over to the bottom drawer of my filing cabinet. I pulled out a small, black leather overnight bag- the one I kept packed for emergency UN deployments.

I grabbed my passport, my wallet, and my phone from my desk, shoving them roughly into the bag. I didn't care about the charity project anymore. I didn't care about the schools, the German delegates, or the millions of dollars. If I stayed in this building for one more second, the pain was going to kill me.

I threw the bag over my shoulder and walked out the private side door of my office, bypassing the lobby entirely.

I pushed through the emergency exit stairs, running down the steps until I burst through the ground-floor security doors.

The sky had turned entirely black. A massive thunderstorm had broken over the city.

I did not stop to grab an umbrella. I didn't call a taxi.

I walked straight out into the freezing, pouring rain, letting the heavy drops hit my face and wash away the tears I had promised myself I would never shed for him again.