Behind The Mask

Chapter 13: Crossing the Line

POV : Maxwell

I sat frozen in the chair, watching the velvet curtains swing shut behind Fiona.

In my shadow. Her words echoed in my head, cold and sharp as glass. She meant every single syllable. The sweet, desperate girl who used to wait up for me in New York was entirely gone.

The German delegates quickly packed up their briefcases, muttering awkwardly to each other as they hurried out of the private room. They didn't want any part of this personal drama.

That left only two people in the room. Me, and Julian Mercer.

Julian stood up slowly, smoothing the front of his expensive suit. He looked down at me with absolute disgust.

"You are a very sad and foolish man, Mr. Jordan," Julian said smoothly. "You think two million dollars can buy her back? Fiona doesn't care about your money. She never did. I suggest you pack your bags and go back to America before you embarrass yourself any further."

Julian turned to leave, walking toward the curtains to follow my wife.

Something dark and violent snapped inside my chest.

I stood up so fast my chair crashed backward onto the marble floor. In two long strides, I crossed the room and stepped directly into Julian's path, blocking the exit.

Julian stopped, his eyes narrowing dangerously. We were exactly the same height, but I had a lifetime of ruthless street-fighting anger running through my veins that this polished diplomat knew nothing about.

"Stay away from her," I growled, my voice low and completely lethal.

Julian let out a mocking laugh. "Or what? You don't own her anymore, Maxwell. She signed the divorce papers two years ago. She is a free woman. And she is with me now."

"She will never be with you," I hissed, stepping so close to him that our shoulders almost brushed. "Fiona is mine. She has always been mine. I don't care about the divorce papers, and I don't care about your polite little title. If I see you touch her again, I will break your hands. Do you understand me?"

Julian’s jaw tightened. For a second, I thought he might actually throw a punch. But he was a politician. He couldn't afford a public fistfight.

"You threw away a diamond to play with cheap rocks," Julian whispered coldly. "You don't get to demand her back just because you finally realized your mistake."

He bumped his shoulder hard against mine, pushing past me and walking out of the café.

I didn't wait another second. I stormed out right behind him.

Fiona was standing on the busy Parisian sidewalk, hailing a taxi. Her white blazer looked blinding in the morning sun. Julian was walking toward her, but I was much faster.

I shoved past a group of tourists, closing the distance between us.

"Fiona!" I barked.

She turned around, her eyes flashing with pure annoyance. But before she could open her mouth to yell at me, I reached out and grabbed her wrist.

My skin burned the second I touched her. It had been two years since I had felt her warmth. A massive electric shock shot up my entire arm.

"Let go of me!" Fiona gasped, trying to pull her hand away.

"My car is right here," I said, my voice tight and commanding. I pointed to the sleek black limousine I had rented for the morning, parked right against the curb. "Get in."

"Are you insane?" she snapped, her voice rising. People on the street were starting to turn their heads. "I am not going anywhere with you! I am going to the UN headquarters to do my job…, the job you just hijacked!"

"Then I will drive you there," I said, stepping closer, refusing to let go of her wrist. "We are business partners now, Ambassador. We have a contract. We need to talk."

"Take your hands off her, Jordan," Julian warned, finally catching up to us. He reached out to grab my shoulder.

"Julian, no!" Fiona said quickly, stepping between us.

She looked around at the growing crowd. She was a public figure now. She knew that if two men started a violent fight over her on the streets of Paris, it would be on the front page of every newspaper by noon. It would ruin the charity project.

Fiona glared at me with a hatred so deep it made my chest ache.

"Fine," she hissed through her teeth. "Five minutes. But if you ever grab me like that again, I will have security break your arms."

She yanked her wrist out of my grip and practically threw herself into the back of the limousine.

I turned and gave Julian one last, victorious smirk before climbing into the backseat and slamming the door shut.

"Drive," I ordered the chauffeur.

The privacy glass instantly slid up, sealing Fiona and me completely alone in the quiet, spacious back of the limo.

The air between us immediately ignited.

"You are a monster," Fiona exploded the second the car started moving. She was practically shaking with rage. "You used your last two million dollars to buy a charity project just to torture me? You haven't changed at all! You are still the exact same controlling, manipulative bully I left in New York!"

"I did it to get your attention!" I yelled back, my own temper flaring. I was tired of playing nice. I was tired of being treated like a disease. "You wouldn't even look at me last night! You let that British snob put his hands all over you right in front of my face!"

"He treats me like a human being!" Fiona screamed, tears of pure frustration shining in her eyes. "He doesn't treat me like a pawn on a chessboard! He respects me!"

"He doesn't love you!" I roared, the truth ripping out of my throat.

"AND YOU DID?!" she screamed back, her voice breaking violently.

The question hung in the air, heavy and suffocating.

Fiona was breathing hard, her chest heaving under her blazer. She looked beautiful, furious, and so incredibly broken.

Suddenly, the limo took a sharp, fast turn around a Parisian corner.

Fiona lost her balance. She gasped, falling sideways across the leather seats.

Instinct took over. I lunged forward, catching her by the waist before she could hit the floor. But the momentum of the car threw us together.

I crashed back into the plush seats, and Fiona landed directly on top of me.

Everything stopped.

My hands were gripping her waist tightly. Her hands were pressed flat against my chest. Her face was only inches from mine. I could feel her rapid, shallow breaths ghosting across my lips. I could smell her sweet, familiar perfume- the exact same scent that had haunted my empty bed for two years.

The screaming stopped. The anger shifted into something entirely different. Something incredibly dangerous.

Her eyes went wide, locked completely onto mine. The cold, icy ambassador mask melted away, leaving only the raw, undeniable electricity that had always existed between us.

We had just signed a strict professional contract. She had set an absolute boundary. But right now, with her soft body pressed perfectly against mine, the rules completely vanished.

My eyes dropped to her full, red lips.

I let out a ragged breath, slowly sliding my hand from her waist up to the back of her neck, tangling my fingers in her hair.

Fiona didn't pull away. She shivered, her eyes fluttering half-shut as she stared at my mouth.

I pulled her an inch closer, the space between our lips completely disappearing.