“Of course I did.” As if it were obvious.
I pursed my lips, trying to decide whether or not I wanted him to know I was pleased, but he beat me to it.
“It’s not like you mind. You showed up to crash my date. That was proof enough that you want my attention on you at all times.” Maverick’s hands slid beneath my dress, his touch warm and deliberate as he turned me back toward the cutting board, saving me from my face giving it all away. The knife trembled slightly in my grip as I forced myself to focus, dicing the celery into neat, even pieces.
Ingredients chopped, I set the knife down. I wasn’t sure I could make it through dinner, with his fingers drawing lazy circles on my skin.
“You know how to cook,” he said, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Hmmm,” I hummed happily as I scooped the ingredients into my hands and put them into a pre-warmed pan to sauté. “I’ve always loved cooking. Meals were a sacred time with my family while I was growing up, and my role in the kitchen was as important as my mom’s.”
“That’s wonderful to hear. I’ve always been fascinated by other cultures and real family dynamics.”
His words gave me pause. “Because yours isn’t ‘warm and fuzzy’?”
He splayed his fingers across the taught skin of my belly. “Exactly.”
Sighing, I said, “Everything changed after my dad died. There was always silence or screaming arguments at the dinner table after that. My sisters and I, my mom… we all grieved in very angry ways, and my mom has never been the same. The day he died, she did, too. I don’t think she will ever fully recover.”
Maverick disappeared into his head after that. His movements turned precise, almost mechanical, as he scraped the chopped vegetables into the simmering sauce without a word. The sizzle of oil filled the silence between us as he reached for the ground beef, breaking it apart with practiced ease. His jaw was tight, his focus sharp—like he was somewhere else entirely, locked away in thoughts I couldn’t reach.
He did, however, invite me to help him stir the sauce. Our fingers brushed occasionally, sending electric shocks through my body. He’d catch my eye and grin mischievously as we finished prepping dinner, but he didn’t return to the touchy-feely as he’d been earlier.
Maverick made me sit at the table and wait while he dished up dinner. There was a baguette already in the middle of the table, sliced into perfect portions, alongside a bottle of freshly opened deep red Chianti, its bold aroma mingling with the rich scent of the simmering sauce.
The quiet that settled around us now was almost unnerving.
The prospect of confessing our truths was… daunting.
He seemed to sense my eagerness to get it over with, but waited for me to take my first bite. My eyes closed and I groaned loudly, earning a chuckle from him. “Ask away. You know you want to.”
I swallowed and licked my lips. “What do you do for a living?” I glanced around at his penthouse as if to emphasize that he was able to afford something so grand in one of the most expensive cities in America.
“Straight for the jugular, I see.” He arched a brow and popped a piece of bread into his mouth, chewing slowly, as if he was considering how much to give away. I watched, fascinated, as his jaw muscles flexed with each deliberate bite. He reached for his wine, taking an unhurried sip, the rich red coating his lips before he finally spoke again. “I launder a portion of my family’s cartel money through my club here, and some in my casino in Vegas.”
My jaw dropped. I mean, part of me suspected what he did was drug-related, butJesus.“Okay, so like… drugs. What kind of drugs?”
“Does it matter?”
I picked apart the bread in my hands. “I guess not, but humor me—in the spirit of being honest.”
Maverick sighed. “Cocaine, mostly. At least, that’s my involvement. My brothers tend to dabble in heroine and meth. At least I think they do. I don’t really talk to them much.”
“Did you ever want to do something outside of the drug business?”
He took a long sip of his wine. Calculating his next response, I presumed. “I didn’t have much of a choice. It was either that or turn my back on my family, get disowned, and lose my trust fund. I wasn’t interested in being broke without any support.”
I gnawed on my lower lip. “You seemed surprised when you realized I didn’t know who you were. Why?”
He shifted in his seat, focusing on his wine, his fingers tapping idly against the stem of his glass, a slow, thoughtful rhythm, but he didn’t look at me. Not yet. Another sigh. “Sophie…”
“I don’t like when you say my name like that. I feel like I’m not going to like the answer.”
“You won’t. I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems no one has given you the courtesy of telling you the truth.”
My stomach knotted. I forced myself to eat a few bites before I spoke. “Just tell me, Mav. Isn’t that why we’re here? I can handle it. Ineedto know everything. It’s been eating me alive.”
“Yeah, me, too,” he admitted, leaning forward to put his forearms on the table. “Look, I had no intention of getting involved with you, I swear, but once I did, I couldn’t let you go. And I don’t want you to hate me when I just got you to agree to dinner with me.”
