Her Invisible Knight (Book 4)

Nineteen

Mackenzie

As confused as I was about the entire thing, there was no way I was going to let this go without hearing some sort of explanation from Maverick. Sure, I may not actually accept whatever reason he could have, but it was better than not having answers at all. I felt both ridiculously insulted and curious, so I didn’t waste any time. As soon as I was out the double doors, I immediately whipped my phone out and texted him. Yes, I texted him instead of calling because I didn’t have enough strength in me to reign in my temper just yet. I guess one could say that I was buying my time and trying to give the guy the benefit of the doubt, but I was failing miserably. I couldn’t contain my disappointment and skepticism.

Me: Where are you?

I never took my eyes away from my phone as I waited for him to reply, and I felt more aggravated when it took a few minutes before I saw the little dots dance on the screen.

Maverick: On my way home. You?

Me: Good. I’ll meet you there.

Maverick: Okay... Are you alright?

I didn’t bother responding and just turned my phone off because I knew that he’d end up calling me for not answering his question. We were going to talk anyway, or at least I was going to make sure that we’d end up talking, so what was the point of continuing the conversation over the phone? I looked both ways and immediately hailed the incoming cab and hopped in. A few minutes later, I jumped out even when we hadn’t fully stopped, earning a muttered curse from the driver, and stomped my way inside Maverick’s building.

Obviously, I didn’t think things through because once I was inside the luxurious condo, my steps slowed. I must’ve looked like someone who accidentally entered the wrong building or someone who was about to do something juvenile. You see, I knew where Maverick lived, but this was the first time I’d been here, so I didn’t know how I was going to be let in. I stopped right in the middle of the lobby, wondering if I should just call him to let me in. “Oh, good evening, Miss Young?” I slowly turned toward the front desk, a bit surprised that the woman sitting behind it even knew me. “Uh. Hi? How did you... Umm... Never mind. Anyway, sorry. Good evening. Yes, I’m here to see Maverick Knight,” I stammered as I tried my best to look as friendly as possible while I approached the desk. “Yes, he just called to let us know you were coming. He hasn’t arrived yet, but he did tell us to send you right up,” she cheerfully stated while sliding a card toward me. I stared at her dubiously before taking a peek at the card between us. “That’s the code to the penthouse. The lone elevator behind those two should take you up there,” she added as she pointed to the said elevators. “Oh, okay. Thank you -” I paused, searching for her name tag. “Camila,” she smiled. “Right. Have a wonderful night, Camila.”

I stood slack-jawed once the elevator doors slid open. I didn’t know how loaded Maverick was until I saw the massive penthouse he was living in. He resided on the 34th and 35th floors, where floor-to-ceiling windows offered a 360-degree panorama of the entire city of Los Angeles. The property also featured an outdoor living area that wrapped around the home’s exterior. It was no wonder how much power he had over Lila when it came to decision-making and management. He was probably just being modest when he said he co-owned the dance company. With that in mind, I felt deflated as soon as I understood that my career’s success had nothing to do with my talent and everything to do with Maverick’s influence. What I couldn’t explain, though, was his reason for doing such a thing. Was this his way of self-mortification because of what happened between us years ago, or was this out of pity? Either way, it just didn’t make sense.

I slowly walked further into the penthouse, wondering how I was going to confront him now. I wanted to be rational, but I just couldn’t wrap my head around the idea that maybe he had good intentions. “Kenzie?” Maverick suddenly called out. I didn’t even notice or hear him, so I became a bit jumpy. His brows knitted together once he saw the expression on my face, and I knew that he could sense that there was something absolutely wrong. I wanted to vent right then and there, but I just couldn’t bring myself to speak now that we were standing in front of each other. “Is everything alright?” he quietly asked as he cautiously approached, and if it weren’t for the situation, I would’ve laughed at how nervous he looked. I mean, he should be. He took another step toward me, but immediately stopped when I shot my palm up to keep him from coming closer. “I need to ask you things, but before I do that, you have to swear that you’re going to tell the truth and nothing but the raw truth.”

“Okay,” he simply answered with a nod. “No, you have to say you swear and mean it,” I hissed, and we just stood there for a moment, trying to gauge each other’s frame of mind. “I swear and mean it,” he finally obliged with a serious look on his face before leading me into his massive living room to sit. He made no move to touch me or speak once we were seated. All he did was give me his undivided attention and patience until I was ready to address my questions, which I appreciated because I was afraid that once he touched me, I’d give in. For a minute, I struggled to find the right words because, no matter how much I tried to sugarcoat things, I knew it was futile. Then there were also possibilities that maybe I was scared of finding out that my guesses were right all along, or that maybe I was just overreacting and that it was a mistake to even come here. In the end, there was no other way but to go straight to the point and just rip the bandage off.

I took a deep breath and pinned him with my unwavering stare before finally opening my mouth. “Why did you buy L’art En Danse, and to what extent was their acceptance centered more on me than on you?”