Maya didn't say a word. She didn't even look up as she heard the creaked of the heavy door , signaling his exit. She heard his muffled footsteps as he went downstairs, followed by the sharp, low tone of a business call that sounded more like an argument.
Nearly forty minutes later, the floorboards groaned. Kevin was back. Kevin looked slightly thawed, his shoulders less rigid than before. He stood in the doorway for a long moment, watching her work in silence before he finally spoke.
"I'm sorry for yelling earlier," he said, the apology sounding like it had been dragged out of him.
Maya paused, a silver letter opener in her hand. "It's okay. I shouldn't have poked my nose into your family business. I'll just do my work."
She kept her tone flat—professional, distant, and exactly what he had asked for. Kevin seemed like he wanted to say something else, his eyes lingering on the desk where the letter had been, but he simply checked his watch.
"I have to head back to the city. The driver will be back to pick you up at five," he said. Maya gave a short, sharp nod, and without another word, he was gone.
By the time Maya dragged herself through her apartment door, she felt like her soul had been scrubbed with sandpaper. She dropped her bag on the floor with a heavy thud and collapsed onto the couch.
Kim was already sprawled on the bed in the studio space, scrolling through her phone. She looked up and winced. "Yikes. You look like a walking zombie, May."
"I feel like one," Maya groaned, closing her eyes. "That house is literally draining the life out of me."it's so big".
"Well, lucky for you, I have the cure," Kim said, jumping up with a mischievous glint in her eye. "We are going out tonight. My friend is having a birthday party at Vibe, and you're coming. Before you even start with the 'no,' just stop. You haven't gone out in ages. Introverts have to have fun sometimes, you know? Who knows? You might see a man who actually makes you forget your stupid ex."
Maya let out a hollow laugh. "No. I'm exhausted, Kim. And I have to be at work tomorrow."
"May, tomorrow is Saturday," Kim countered, hands on her hips. "You don't go to the Manor on weekends. You have all the time in the world to sleep in. No thinking, babe. The Uber is picking us up at 9:00 PM."
Maya looked at her best friend. Kim was the life of every party—the kind of girl who believed life was too short to spend it staring at four walls. Maya knew from experience that when Kim used that tone, refusing is impossible
By 10:30 PM, the atmosphere had shifted from dusty manors to neon lights and thumping bass.
Kim was in her element, wearing a skin-tight, electric-blue bodycon dress that shimmered under the club lights. Her hair was a cloud of perfect curls, and her makeup was "loud"—heavy glitter on the lids and a gloss that caught every stray beam of light. She looked like she owned the dance floor before she even stepped on it.
Maya, on the other hand, felt like a fish out of water. She had opted for a "safe" but stunning look: a sleek, backless black slip dress that hugged her curves in all the right places, paired with minimalist gold hoops and her hair slicked back into a high, sophisticated ponytail. She looked elegant and expensive, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy of the club.
They finally pushed through the heavy velvet curtains into the main lounge of The Onyx. The bass was a physical force, thumping against Maya's ribs. Kim immediately spotted their group in a plush circular booth near the dance floor.
"There she is! Birthday girl!" Kim shrieked, dragging Maya toward a woman in a shimmering silver mini-dress.
Maya recognized her instantly. This was Tasha, Kim's ride-or-die friend from college. Maya wasn't exactly a stranger to her; they had shared enough late-night pizzas and loud birthdays for Maya to feel a genuine warmth for the girl.
"Happy Birthday, Tasha!" Maya shouted over the music, pulling her into a quick hug.
"May! You actually made it out of the house!" Tasha laughed, handing them both shots of something that smelled like fire and lime.
For the next hour, Maya actually let go. She danced with Kim and Tasha, losing herself in the strobe lights and the heavy music. The tension of the Manor, the "Rosewood" letter, and Kevin's icy glares felt miles away. But as the clock ticked toward midnight, the exhaustion from her day of physical labor started to win. Her feet ached in her heels, and the sweat of the crowd was becoming too much.
"I need a breather," Maya yelled into Kim's ear, gesturing toward the bar. Kim nodded, already lost in a dance-off with another friend.
Maya navigated the sea of bodies and slumped onto a high leather stool at the bar. "A mojito, please. Heavy on the lime," she told the bartender.
As she waited, she took a slow breath, leaning her elbows on the cool marble. She glanced around the room, watching the VIP section. Her eyes traveled over a group of guys in the corner booth, and that was when she saw Mr Clarke
Kevin Clarke was sitting there. He wasn't in his usual three-piece suit. He was wearing a simple, high-quality black t-shirt and dark jeans, looking effortlessly rugged. He didn't have a drink in his hand; instead, his hands were shoved deep into his pockets as he leaned back against the leather.
He was staring directly at her. His dark eyes were unblinking.
Maya felt a jolt of heat climb her neck. Thinking maybe he was just surprised to see her, she raised a hand in a small, hesitant wave across the bar.
Kevin didn't wave back. He didn't even blink. He just continued to stare, his expression a wall of stone. A guy sitting next to him said something, laughing and clapping Kevin on the shoulder, but Kevin's gaze never wavered from Maya.
Embarrassment flooded her. She dropped her hand quickly, pretending she had just been fixing her hair. She grabbed her mojito and downed half of it in one go. The alcohol hit her blood quickly, making her head feel light and fuzzy.
I need to go home, she thought.
She scanned the floor for Kim and finally spotted her. Kim was surrounded by friends, laughing and holding a fresh bottle of champagne. She looked like she was settled in for the long haul—likely until the sun came up.
Maya walked over and tapped her shoulder. "Kim, I'm headed out. I'm beat."
"Already? Stay for one more!" Kim pleaded, but Maya shook her head.
"I can't. My brain is fried. I'll catch a taxi," Maya said, giving her a quick squeeze.
She slipped out the exit, the cool night air hitting her like a slap to the face. The street was quiet, save for the distant thrum of the club behind her. She stood on the curb, scrolling through her phone for a ride-share app, but everything was "high demand" with a twenty-minute wait
Suddenly, the roar of a powerful engine broke the silence. A sleek, matte-black sports car pulled up to the curb right in front of her. The window whined down, revealing the sharp profile of the man who had just been haunting her dreams.
Maya froze. "Mr. Clarke?"
Kevin looked out at the empty street, then back at her. "Get in. You won't find a ride at this time of night, and this isn't the neighborhood for a woman to be standing alone."
Maya looked at her phone, then at the clock on her dashboard. It was 12:15 AM. The alcohol made her less cautious than usual. She opened the door and slid into the scent of expensive leather and cedarwood.
The ride was unnervingly quiet. Kevin drove with a focused intensity, his eyes on the road. Maya gave him her address, then leaned her head back against the headrest, watching the city lights blur by.
"I didn't peg you for a club person, Mr. Clarke," Maya said, her voice a little braver thanks to the mojito.
Kevin shifted gears, the car purring under his touch. He didn't look at her when he replied, his voice low and raspy in the dark cabin.
"And I didn't peg you for... this," he said, his eyes flicking momentarily to her backless dress and the way the streetlights danced on her skin.
The air in the car suddenly felt much tighter.
"And how exactly did you peg me?" Kevin asked. His tone wasn't angry—it was curious, almost challenging.
Maya leaned her head against the headrest, looking at his sharp profile. "Well... you always look aloof and serious. And I'm sure you've heard what people say about you in the city."
"And what's that?"
"That you're arrogant," Maya said, the words slipping out before she could filter them. "That you think everyone is beneath you. Seeing you in a black t-shirt at a club... it just doesn't fit the 'Ice Prince' image."
Kevin didn't reply. He didn't defend himself or snap back. He simply kept his eyes on the road, his jaw set in a hard line.
A few minutes later, the car slowed to a halt in front of her apartment building. The streetlights flickered, casting long shadows across the leather seats.
"We're here," he said simply.
"Thank you for the ride, Mr. Clarke," Maya said, grabbing her bag. "I... I'll see you Monday."
She got out and shut the door. She expected a nod or a "Goodnight," but Kevin didn't say a word. The second her feet hit the pavement, he shifted the car into gear and drove off, the red taillights disappearing into the city night like two fading embers.