Behind The Mask

Chapter 14: The Relapse

POV : Fiona

His lips crashed against mine, and the entire world outside the limousine simply ceased to exist.

I should have pushed him away. I should have slapped him. I was Ambassador Caldwell, a woman of power and logic. But the second Maxwell's mouth opened over mine, my brain completely short-circuited.

It wasn't a gentle, polite kiss. It was desperate. It was rough and hungry, like he was a drowning man and I was his only oxygen. His hand tangled tight in my hair, holding me perfectly in place, while his other hand gripped my waist, pulling my body flush against his.

And heaven help me, I kissed him back.

A quiet, helpless gasp slipped from my throat, and I felt his chest rumble in response. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the pure, electric heat of the moment, dragging me right back to the days when I thought he was my absolute savior. For two seconds, I completely forgot about the UN, Julian, the contract, and the divorce. I was just Fiona, and he was just Maxwell.

Then, the limousine hit a small bump in the road, jarring us slightly.

Reality came crashing back down like a bucket of ice water.

What am I doing?!

I placed both of my hands flat against his chest and shoved him backward with all the strength I had.

Maxwell fell back against the leather seat, breathing heavily, his chest heaving. His eyes were wide and completely wild, completely blown out with desire. He reached for me again. "Fiona…"

"Stop!" I gasped, scrambling backward until my back hit the opposite door of the limo. I pressed my fingers against my bruised, tingling lips. My heart was beating so fast I felt dizzy.

"Pull over!" I yelled to the driver through the partition intercom. "Pull over right now!"

"Fiona, wait, please," Maxwell pleaded, running a shaking hand through his messy hair. "I didn't mean to… I just... I needed you to know that it's real. My feelings are real."

The limo screeched to a halt on the side of the street.

"Don't speak to me," I whispered, my voice trembling violently. I couldn't look at him. If I looked at him, he would see the chaos in my eyes. "I will see you at the UN building tomorrow for the charity briefing. If you cross this line again, the deal is off."

I threw the door open and practically ran out onto the sidewalk, blending into the crowd before he could follow me.

That night, I didn't sleep a single wink.

I paced the hardwood floors of my apartment until 3:00 AM. I was completely, hopelessly confused.

The Maxwell I knew from New York was a cold, calculating machine. He only cared about his company, his grandfather's approval, and his massive bank account. But the man in that limousine today had just thrown away his final two million dollars on a charity project just to be near me. He had looked at me with such raw, unhinged passion that it terrified me.

Did he really change? I thought, staring up at the dark ceiling from my bed. Was it possible that losing everything finally made him realize what actually mattered?

I thought about the way Julian looked at me. Julian was safe. He was polite, steady, and secure. But when Julian kissed me, it felt like a nice, warm cup of tea.

When Maxwell kissed me, it felt like standing in the middle of a burning building.

By the time the sun came up, my impenetrable Ambassador armor had cracked. A tiny, dangerous sliver of hope had managed to wiggle its way into my heart. Maybe, just maybe, we had turned a corner. If we were going to be working together every single day in these schools, we needed to find peace.

I walked into my kitchen at 6:30 AM. I decided to offer a genuine olive branch.

I pulled out my pans and started to cook. I didn't make a fancy, delicate French breakfast. Instead, I made his favorite meal from our early days in New York- a perfectly seasoned steak-and-egg scramble with roasted potatoes. It was the meal I used to make him when he had been working late at the office, back when I thought his smiles were real.

The apartment was filled with the rich, comforting smell of the food. I carefully packed it into a sleek glass container to bring to our 9:00 AM briefing.

I was actually smiling. It was a small, nervous smile, but it was there. Maybe this wasn't the end of the world. Maybe we could finally talk like adults today. I picked up my phone, intending to send him a brief, polite text to let him know I was bringing breakfast to our meeting.

Just as I unlocked my screen, a new message popped up.

It was from Maxwell.

My heart did a happy little flutter as I opened the message, expecting an apology for the limo, or a confession of his feelings, or even just a confirmation of our meeting time.

Instead, I stared at the bright screen, and the entire world simply dropped out from under my feet.

Maxwell: Don't read into last night. Camilla is coming over.

The glass container slipped right out of my hands.

It hit the kitchen floor with a shattering CRASH, sending pieces of glass, scrambled eggs, and steak flying in every direction across the tiles.

I stood completely frozen, staring blindly at the ruined food on the floor.

Camilla. The woman he had cheated on me with. The woman who had ruined my marriage, who had humiliated me in front of the entire world, and who had stolen a million dollars from him before running away to Los Angeles.

She was here. In Paris. And he was letting her back in.

The tiny sliver of hope in my chest didn't just break- it turned into toxic, burning ash. He hadn't changed. The passion in the limo wasn't real love; it was just a game of control. He wanted to see if he could still break my walls down, and the moment he realized he could, he immediately brought his mistress right back into the picture to keep me in my place.

I looked back down at the glowing text message on my phone.

A cold, dead numbness spread through my veins, freezing over every single emotion I had felt in the past twenty-four hours.

I did not cry and I didn't scream.

I simply stepped over the shattered glass of my own foolishness, walked into my bedroom, and reached for the sharpest, most intimidating suit in my closet.