My hardcore Boss

Chapter 4. Prince. [ part 7]

We reopen the door and, holding the floor plan, make our way to the hotel's underground parking. I hope Elena and Prince are still at the party, but we move cautiously, weaving between parked cars as we look for a back entrance.

According to the map, there's a stairwell here that should let us re-enter the hotel, bypassing the main hall where most of the guests are gathered. We find the door, but it's locked and marked "Staff Access Only."

"Of course it is!" I mutter, exasperated.

"What now?" I ask, just as we hear a car approaching. We duck behind a van as a group of catering staff gets out, keys in hand. Max glances at me, a plan forming in his eyes.

"We need to slip in while they're distracted. Ready?"

I nod, and we step out from behind the van, moving quietly toward the door. But before we can reach it, someone calls out from behind us.

"Who are you? Do you need help?"

Without missing a beat, Max sweeps me into his arms and turns to face them. "My partner twisted her ankle," he says smoothly. "We called for a driver, but he's delayed, so I thought we'd head back inside to wait. Could you help us?"

The staff member looks at me, sympathetic. "Of course. Let me hold the door for you."

"Thank you so much," I add, giving him my best helpless smile.

"You really can't walk?" he asks, eyes on my ankle.

"Oh, it must be a twisted ankle." I wince convincingly. "I'm afraid I'm not used to heels this high."

He nods knowingly and gestures for us to follow him. Max carries me in his arms, and I marvel at his poise. He's so convincing, I almost believe my ankle is actually hurt.

The staff member leads us to a small surveillance room, where a guard sits watching the hotel's many cameras. The guard raises an eyebrow as we enter, but the staff member quickly explains the situation.

"You're guests at the gala?" the guard asks, eyeing our ID badges.

"Yes," Max replies. "Thank you for letting us rest here for a moment."

As I settle into a chair, I catch Max's subtle nod. Time to create a distraction.

I lift my dress slightly, enough to show my ankle, and start massaging it, wincing for effect. "These heels... I'm not used to them. I feel terrible for causing all this trouble."

The guard shifts uncomfortably. "Would you like some ice?"

"That would be wonderful, thank you," I say, stretching my leg out just a bit further, drawing his gaze.

The guard blushes and heads off to find ice, leaving us alone in the room. I glance at Max. "How's it going?"

"Almost in," he murmurs, focused on the laptop. A few seconds later, he nods. "Got it. I'm in the network."

The door swings open, and the guard returns with ice, accompanied by a receptionist. "I'm afraid you can't stay here," she says, all business. "But I can arrange a room for you to rest if you'd like."

Max seizes the opportunity. "Thank you. That would be perfect. You can put it in my name; the details are already registered."

The receptionist nods and gestures for us to follow her. Max carries me up to the room, and once we're safely inside, he sets me gently on my feet.

"Thank you," I say softly, steadying myself. "Can we track where everyone is from here?"

He nods, taking my tablet. "We'll be able to see their movements on the network. If we can avoid Elena and her... companion, that would be ideal. Dinner might be tricky, though. It's a seated affair, and they'll expect everyone to be in the same hall. We'll have to time it perfectly to stay out of sight."

Max sits on the bed, burying his face in his hands, and for a moment, he looks genuinely distressed. "Why is she even here, Cyntia? How did Elena end up with him, of all people? And what does she gain by trying to ruin my reputation?"

I sit beside him, placing a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "We'll figure it out. Maybe there's a reasonable explanation. Give me his name—I'll see if our software pulls up anything."

He hesitates, then nods. "His name is Prince Graant. He's a big player in the adult industry, but he's notoriously private. I only knew him as the man who introduced me to directors and took a cut of my earnings. Our relationship... wasn't exactly friendly."

Max's voice grows quieter, and he looks away, as if wrestling with uncomfortable memories. "Some nights... well, I did things I'm not proud of. Group scenes, anything the directors wanted. It's part of why I left. I never thought I'd have to talk about it with anyone."

I feel a pang of sympathy. "You don't have to explain, Max. Really, just the name would've been enough."

He lets out a tense laugh, then watches as I enter Graant's name into the software. After a few moments, I frown. "According to this, Prince Graant is the name of a financial holding company, not a person. And the CEO isn't him. It's someone named Kim Jo Yanami. Are you sure he went by that name?"

Max's face falls. "That's all I knew him as. He always introduced himself as Prince Graant."

"Well," I say gently, "it might be an alias. Let's dig a bit deeper."

After a few moments of silence, the search pulls up an email from Elena's company account—an email discussing tonight's event, addressed to someone identified only as "the majority shareholder." It's cryptic, but the implications are clear.

"This is evidence of industrial espionage," I say, shocked. "She's discussing company projects and talking about shares. If she's trying to undermine our project..."

Max's expression darkens. "She must be planning to sabotage us, make the stock price drop, and sell out to him. We need to stop her before she goes through with it."

"What's the plan?"

He pauses, thinking quickly. "We need to create an emergency. Can you access the hotel's server and send that email, along with a photo of Elena with him, to every company email address?"

I blink, taken aback by his decisiveness. "You want to blow her cover?"

"Yes. If everyone sees this, whatever she had planned will fall apart. She'll be forced to explain herself."

I nod, fingers flying over the keys. After a few tense moments, I press "Send." We sit back, waiting for the fallout.

As the silence stretches between us, I become acutely aware of the situation. We're alone in a hotel room, sitting close on the bed, and the memory of our kiss in the closet lingers between us. My heart races, and I catch myself glancing at Max's lips. I know you want me. The thought flashes unbidden in my mind, and I quickly look away, searching for something—anything—to break the silence.

Max clears his throat. "Cyntia, I'm... sorry for tonight. I didn't mean for things to get so out of hand. I invited you because you're an invaluable part of my team, and I let myself lose control when I saw... him." He looks down, genuinely regretful. "I hope I haven't made you uncomfortable, and I'd like to make it up to you. When this is over, may I take you to dinner as a thank-you?"

"Oh... of course." My voice comes out shakier than I'd like, and I quickly clear my throat. "You don't have to apologize, really. I mean, it's been a strange night, but... I'm glad I could help."

As silence settles between us again, I feel a strange sense of disappointment. I don't know what I expected—but a part of me wishes he hadn't put so much distance back between us.

With the tablet still connected to the cameras, we sat down at the table farthest from where the unwanted guest was. Even though Elena was no longer present, he continued to be a loose cannon. We had absolutely nothing on him, not even his name. While Max showed his usual charm to everyone at the table, I struggled to follow the conversations and limited myself to nodding or showing him data collected on this or that guest. I felt the tension in my entire body until the end of the evening, and I never stopped observing Prince's position and movements.

Despite everything, we somehow managed to get through the reception without further problems. I couldn't wait to relax a bit when Max reminded me that we would spend the night at the hotel, in the room they gave us. My anxiety returned with all its force.

"I'm not ready to spend the night with him."