Behind The Dynasty

Chapter 3: The Difference Between Us

MAYA POV

I stared at Adrian's message for almost a

minute.

I hope you got home safely.

That was it.

No explanation.

No question.

Nothing that required a response.

Still, I read it twice.

Then a third time.

I locked my phone and placed it face down on my desk.

"Don't."

I looked up.

Sophia was standing in front of me.

"Don't what?"

"Whatever you're doing."

"I'm doing my work."

She pointed at my phone.

"You're thinking about him."

I sighed.

"You're becoming annoying."

"That's because you're becoming predictable."

I rolled my eyes and returned my attention to the floor plan in front of me.

The problem was, she was right.

I was thinking about him.

Again.

It had been less than 24 hours since I met Adrian Kingsley, and somehow he had already become the most distracting part of my life.

I picked up my pencil.

"So, what do you know about him?"

Sophia smiled.

"I knew you'd ask eventually."

"I didn't ask anything."

"You just did."

I gave her a look.

She pulled the chair beside my desk closer.

"Adrian Kingsley is 31. His personal net worth is somewhere around $46 billion."

My pencil stopped moving.

"$46 billion?"

"Yes."

"That's ridiculous."

"That's what I said."

She leaned closer.

"And that's not even counting everything connected to the Kingsley family."

I looked at her.

"How does someone even have that much money?"

"Being born a Kingsley probably helps."

I laughed softly.

"His family?"

"Old money. Very old money."

She continued.

"His father is Richard Kingsley. He's 62 and built most of the modern Kingsley empire into what it is today. Energy, hotels, real estate, investments, banking—you name it."

"And his mother?"

"Victoria Kingsley. 58. Socialite, philanthropist, old-money family."

"Any siblings?"

"No."

I looked down.

"Only child."

"Exactly."

Something about that made sense.

Adrian had the kind of presence that made you imagine him growing up surrounded by adults who expected perfection.

"So he's basically royalty."

Sophia laughed.

"Among people like that? Pretty much."

I glanced at my phone again.

$46 billion.

I looked around my office.

My old desk.

My secondhand computer.

The coffee machine that only worked when it felt like cooperating.

My world suddenly seemed very small.

Not in a bad way.

Just different.

My father, Daniel Bennett, had spent most of his life as a civil servant. He had never owned a company or appeared in business magazines. He had spent years saving enough money to make sure his children could have opportunities he never had.

My mother, Grace, was 55 and still ran the small catering business she had built from scratch.

She made food for birthdays, weddings, office parties, and sometimes funerals.

She had always told us that honest money was better than impressive money.

My parents weren't wealthy.

But we'd never gone hungry.

We had a small house.

A reliable car.

Family dinners.

Arguments over the television.

Normal things.

I liked normal.

Adrian Kingsley's world was anything but.

My phone buzzed.

I looked down.

Another message.

Adrian: Did you eat?

I stared at it.

Sophia immediately leaned over.

"Oh."

"Stop."

"He's checking if you've eaten."

"It's just a question."

"From a $46 billion man."

I typed a response.

Maya: Yes.

Three dots appeared almost immediately.

Adrian: Good.

I frowned.

That was all?

I put my phone down.

Sophia laughed.

"You look disappointed."

"I'm not."

"You are."

"I have work."

She stood.

"Sure."

She walked away.

I waited until she disappeared before looking at my phone again.

Nothing.

I hated myself for feeling disappointed.

By 3:00 p.m., I had finally finished the proposal for Adrian's property.

I stared at the final design.

The house was beautiful, but it had no warmth.

It reminded me of him.

Perfect.

Expensive.

Controlled.

I added softer lighting, warmer wood, textured fabrics, and larger windows.

Then I saved the file.

I was about to send it when my phone rang.

My mother's name appeared.

"Hi, Mum."

"Are you busy?"

"Not anymore."

"Good. Your father wants you home tonight."

I smiled.

"Why?"

"Your brother is coming."

"Daniel?"

"Yes. He said he has something to tell us."

I laughed.

"That sounds serious."

"With your brother, everything sounds serious."

I could hear her smiling.

"Come home early."

"I will."

After we hung up, I packed my things.

As I walked through the office, Sophia called after me.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Already?"

"My family."

She smiled.

"Tell your billionaire that family comes first."

I laughed.

"I don't have a billionaire."

"Not yet."

I shook my head and walked away.

My family's house looked exactly as I remembered.

Nothing luxurious.

Nothing extravagant.

Just home.

My mother's car was parked outside.

My brother's motorcycle stood beside it.

I walked inside.

The smell of food reached me immediately.

"Maya!"

My mother appeared from the kitchen.

She hugged me tightly.

"You look tired."

"I'm fine."

"You always say that."

I smiled.

"Where's Dad?"

"In the sitting room."

I walked in.

My father was sitting on the sofa beside my brother, Daniel Jr., who was 31.

He worked as a civil engineer and had somehow inherited our father's habit of looking suspicious whenever anyone entered a room.

"Hey."

Daniel looked at me.

"Finally."

"I have a job."

"So do I."

"Then why are you here?"

"Because Mum threatened me."

From the kitchen, Mum shouted,

"I heard that!"

We laughed.

For a moment, I forgot about Adrian.

Forgot about billionaires.

Forgot about the strange feeling that had been following me since last night.

This was my world.

Warm.

Loud.

Messy.

Safe.

Until my father looked at me.

"Maya."

I stopped.

"Yes?"

"Who is Adrian Kingsley?"

The room went quiet.

My stomach dropped.

I looked at my mother.

Then my brother.

Finally, my father.

"How do you know his name?"

Dad's expression hardened.

"Answer the question."

I put my bag down.

"He's a client."

"What kind of client?"

"An interior design client."

Daniel leaned forward.

"Kingsley?"

"Yes."

He exchanged a glance with Dad.

"What?"

My father shook his head.

"Nothing."

"Dad."

"Stay away from powerful people who don't need anything from you."

I frowned.

"What does that mean?"

"It means people like Adrian Kingsley don't enter ordinary people's lives without a reason."

I thought about the hotel.

His eyes.

His voice.

The way he'd remembered my name.

The way he'd somehow gotten my number.

"He hired me."

"That's not what I'm worried about."

"Then what are you worried about?"

Dad looked at me for a long moment.

"I don't trust men who have too much power."

I didn't answer.

Because part of me understood.

Another part didn't.

That night, I lay in bed staring at the ceiling.

My father's warning kept replaying in my mind.

I reached for my phone.

There was another message from Adrian.

Tomorrow. 10:00 a.m. My residence.

I sat up.

No question.

No request.

Just a statement.

I typed:

Maya: You could ask.

His reply came less than a minute later.

Adrian: Would you say no?

I stared at the screen.

I smiled despite myself.

Maya: Maybe.

Three dots.

Then:

Adrian: I don't think you would.

I frowned.

There was something unsettling about how confident he was.

I typed:

Maya: You don't know me.

His response came almost instantly.

Adrian: Not yet.

I stopped smiling.

Not yet.

Two simple words.

But for some reason, they stayed with me long after I put my phone away.

I didn't know it then, but Adrian Kingsley had already decided that knowing me was something he intended to do.

And I was slowly becoming curious enough to let him.

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