Behind The Mask

Chapter 10: The Stranger

POV : Fiona

The air in the grand ballroom suddenly felt very thin.

Maxwell was moving toward me. He completely ignored the politicians and wealthy businessmen standing in his way. He bumped shoulders with a French diplomat, he did not even apologize, and kept his eyes locked entirely on my face.

He looked desperate. He looked like a dying man who had just found water in the desert.

My assistant, Chloe, stepped slightly closer to me, noticing the wild look in his eyes. "Ambassador? Do you know this man? Should I call security?"

"No, Chloe," I said smoothly, my voice perfectly calm. "I know him. It's fine."

Maxwell stopped just three feet away from me. Up close, the changes in him were even more obvious. His tie was slightly crooked, and he looked incredibly tired.

For a long moment, we just stared at each other.

"Fiona," he finally whispered. His voice was shaking slightly. He reached his hand out, as if he wanted to touch my arm to make sure I was actually real.

I did not flinch. I just looked down at his reaching hand with a cold, polite, and completely empty smile.

"Mr. Jordan," I said brightly, using my best professional diplomat voice. "What a surprise to see you in Paris. I was not aware that the Jordan Corporation still had the funding to attend global summits."

Maxwell's hand froze in mid-air. He looked as if I had just slapped him across the face again.

He slowly lowered his hand, his eyes searching my face frantically for the soft, loving girl he used to know. "Mr. Jordan?" he repeated, his voice breaking. "Fiona... please. It's me. It's Maxwell, your husband."

"I know exactly who you are," I replied, taking a slow sip of my sparkling water. "But in professional settings, I prefer to be addressed by my proper title. It's Ambassador Caldwell. And if I remember correctly, I signed you a divorce letter."

Maxwell swallowed hard. The pain flashing in his eyes was raw and real. Two years ago, seeing him in pain would have made me cry. Today, I felt absolutely nothing.

"Ambassador," he choked out, correcting himself. "Fiona, I... I have looked everywhere for you. I hired private investigators. I flew to twenty different cities. I thought you were dead. When you walked out that night..."

"I really don't have time to discuss the past, Maxwell," I interrupted smoothly, checking my elegant silver watch. "I am here working. We are securing millions of dollars for children's education tonight. Now, if you will excuse me."

I turned my body away from him, ready to walk back into the crowd.

"Wait!" Maxwell panicked, stepping directly into my path to block me. "Please, Fiona, just give me five minutes. That's all I ask. You have no idea what my life has been like since you left. I lost the company. My grandfather passed away. Camilla took everything she could and ran. I was completely destroyed."

"That sounds like a terrible personal tragedy," I said softly, looking him dead in the eye. "But it has absolutely nothing to do with me."

"It has everything to do with you!" he pleaded, completely ignoring the people starting to stare at us. "I was a fool. I was blind, stupid, and arrogant. But I see it now, Fiona. I see what you were to me. I love you. I have loved you since the day you left."

I love you. Those were the words I had begged for. I had cried myself to sleep for two years, wishing, hoping, praying he would just say those three words.

Now, hearing them fall from his lips just felt pathetic.

"Your love is two years too late, Maxwell," I said, my voice dropping into a dangerous, icy whisper. "And it is incredibly cheap. Now, step out of my way."

Maxwell shook his head stubbornly. He opened his mouth to argue, taking another step closer to me.

Before he could speak, a large, warm hand suddenly rested firmly on the small of my back.

"Is there a problem here, darling?" a deep, smooth British voice asked.

Maxwell froze. His eyes darted over my shoulder.

A man stepped up to stand right beside me. He was tall, with perfectly styled blonde hair and piercing, intelligent blue eyes. He was wearing a stunning midnight-blue tuxedo.

It was Julian Mercer. The British Ambassador, the top negotiator in Europe, and the man who had been by my side for the last eight months.

Julian didn't look at Maxwell. He looked down at me, his blue eyes softening with warmth. He leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to my cheek.

"The German delegates are ready for us, Fiona," Julian murmured, keeping his arm securely wrapped around my waist.

Maxwell’s jaw locked. His hands curled into tight, shaking fists at his sides. He stared at Julian's hand on my waist with pure, burning hatred. "Who the hell are you?" Maxwell growled.

Julian finally turned his attention to Maxwell. He looked him up and down with calm, polite amusement.

"Julian Mercer," he said smoothly, holding his free hand out. "British Ambassador. And you must be... lost. The exit is right behind you, mate."

Maxwell didn't shake his hand. He glared at Julian, then looked back at me, his chest heaving. "Sienna, who is this?"

I leaned slightly into Julian's side, letting out a small, soft laugh. "Julian is my partner, Maxwell. In business, and in everything else.” I looked back at Maxwell. "Now, as I said, we have a world to save. Have a safe flight back to New York."

I turned away from Maxwell. Julian led me toward the VIP lounge, his hand warm and steady on my back.

I did not look over my shoulders and I didn't need to. I knew Maxwell Jordan was standing in the middle of the crowded ballroom, completely alone, finally realizing that he had lost the best thing he ever had.

And I was never going back.