Taming Maximilian Cross

Chapter 5: Insignia

Maximilian’s smile didn’t falter, though his tone softened just slightly. “Sure,” he said smoothly, as if humoring her. “I love you.”

Evelyn’s brow arched, unimpressed. “That’s supposed to convince me?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “You asked for a man who loves you. I’m simply accommodating your terms.”

“Accommodating?” She laughed once, sharp and disbelieving. “You think love is a word you can toss around for convenience?”

“Only when it gets your attention,” he countered.

That earned him a scoff. She turned with the intent on leaving. “You’re unbelievable.”

But before she could take another step, his hand closed gently but firmly around her wrist. The sudden contact stopped her mid-stride. She glanced back, eyes narrowing, ready to snap at him.

But then she saw what he was holding.

In his other hand was the antique box, the very same item she had fought to win at the auction. It gleamed faintly under the dim lights as the carved insignia caught a ghost of gold.

Her breath caught. “You—?”

He lifted the box slightly, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “You wanted it, didn’t you?”

She stared at him, torn between suspicion and surprise. “You outbid me for this. You made a scene.”

“I did,” he admitted easily. “But only because I prefer to hand it to you myself.”

Her pulse skipped. “Why?”

He leaned in, his voice low and teasing. “Because when I give you something, I want you to remember who it came from.”

Evelyn’s lips parted, but no words came. She hated the way his tone wrapped around her in an infuriating way, smooth, and far too confident.

He tilted his head slightly. “Take it, gorgeous. It’s yours.”

For a long moment, she just stood there, caught between defiance and the strange flutter that rose in her chest. Finally, she reached out and took the box, careful not to let her fingers brush his, but he noticed anyway.

“Careful,” he warned playfully. “I’ll be taking that back soon.”

Evelyn scoffed, arching a brow. “Ha. Good luck with that, you’re not taking anything from me.”

But he only smiled. “We’ll see.”

And with that, he turned and walked away, disappearing into the dimly lit corridor as smoothly as he had appeared, leaving her standing there stunned, conflicted, and clutching the prize she wasn’t sure she’d truly won.

“Not a chance,” she muttered under her breath.

She adjusted her grip on the antique box and started walking toward the exit. Her heels clicked softly on the concrete floor, echoing through the dim, industrial corridors of the underworld’s black market. The walls were streaked with shadows, and the faint smell of metal and smoke clung to the air.

As soon as she was outside, the night had settled thick and deep. Rows of sleek black cars lined the hidden lot, their engines silent, windows reflecting the faint neon glow of the distant city. The air smelled of wet asphalt and oil, carrying the faint murmur of the world beyond the black market’s walls. Evelyn’s car waited at the far end with its headlights flashing once as she approached, cutting through the shadows.

Luka was already out before she reached the door, straightening from where he leaned against the hood. Relief flickered across his face at first, then his eyes fell on the box in her hands, and his expression tightened.

“Miss Liroux,” he began cautiously but carefully, “Please tell me you didn’t steal that.”

Evelyn tilted her head, letting a small smirk tug at her lips. “Do I look like a thief?”

Luka hesitated, glancing at the antique with narrowed eyes. “Sometimes… you look worse.”

That earned him a dry laugh. “Relax, Luka. I won it… sort of.”

He frowned. “Sort of?”

She brushed past him and slipped into the back seat, setting the box gently on her lap. “Long story.”

Luka slid into the driver’s seat, the engine purring to life and filling the brief silence. “Does this long story involve the mysterious man who doubled your bid and made everyone in the room panic?”

Evelyn didn’t answer immediately. She traced the carved insignia on the box with her thumb, feeling its smooth edges and the subtle warmth of its surface. Her reflection in the tinted glass flickered alongside the city lights as they blurred past, and for a moment, she allowed herself to imagine the audacity behind that man’s touch, the heat of his hand lingering on hers.

“Maybe,” she said finally, almost unwilling to give him the satisfaction of a straight answer.

Luka groaned quietly. “Miss, you know that man wasn’t ordinary. The way people looked at him, the subtle shift in their posture, the instant tension...all of it is not normal. He’s… dangerous.”

Evelyn’s lips curved faintly, though her tone remained unreadable. “Everyone in that room was dangerous.”

“Not like him,” Luka pressed, leaning slightly forward in the seat. “He didn’t even try to hide it. The moment he spoke, it was like the world itself held its breath. Everyone forgot how to breathe.”

She stayed quiet, her thumb lingering over the box. “You noticed that too.”

“I’d have to be blind not to.” Luka’s brow furrowed as he kept his eyes on the road. “Who was he?”

She shook her head slowly, eyes still on the box. “Someone who thinks he can buy anything.”

“And you’re sure he can’t?”

Her gaze lifted to meet his reflection in the mirror. “No one buys me, Luka. No one.”

Her words were sharp, decisive, but the way her fingers lingered on the antique box betrayed a crack in her composure. She could still feel the heat of his hand against her wrist, the audacity in his tone when he had whispered 'Marry me.'

Finally, Luka cleared his throat, breaking the long pause. “You’re thinking about him.”

She frowned, stiffening. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

“I’m not.”

He risked a small, knowing smile. “Then why are you smiling?”

Evelyn blinked, caught off guard, and immediately looked away toward the window. “I’m not smiling.”

Luka chuckled softly. “If you say so, Miss.”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, hands tightening on the box. “Drive faster,” she muttered. He obeyed without a word, pressing the accelerator as the black car glided through empty streets.

Her gaze drifted down to the box again, the intricate insignia catching the faint interior light. She could return it. She should return it. But instinct whispered against it.

What she didn’t realize, what she couldn’t possibly know, was that the box in her hands was more than an antique prize. She had unknowingly been marked the moment the mysterious man had placed it in her possession.

Meanwhile, in the shadows of the auction house’s upper floors, Maximilian Cross watched the sleek black car glide away. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, sharp and satisfied.

"We are getting married sooner than you think, Evelyn Liroux," he murmured under his breath, the words meant for no one but himself.

And in the back of the car, Evelyn was entirely unaware of the silent, binding thread that now tied her to him.