A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter twelve

The glow of the fireplace flickered across the ornate study walls as my father droned on about suitors and alliances, his voice a steady, monotonous hum. I sat across from him in a high-backed chair, nodding absently whenever his words seemed to demand a response.

"Lord Alden's estate is considerable, and his lineage is respectable. A match with him would strengthen our ties to the west," he said, pacing the room. His hands were clasped behind his back, his tone brisk and calculating.

"Yes, Father," I murmured, not looking up.

"And then there's Lord Peregrine. Younger, perhaps, but his family has influence in court. A connection there could prove advantageous."

"Of course, Father," I said, my gaze drifting to the window. The night sky stretched vast and endless beyond the glass, dotted with stars that seemed to call to me.

"Are you even listening, Annalise?" His voice sharpened, and I jolted slightly, forcing myself to focus on him.

"Yes," I lied, managing a faint smile. "Lord Alden. Lord Peregrine. Both... promising options."

He stopped pacing and frowned, his piercing gaze narrowing on me. "This is your future we're discussing, Annalise. It's not a matter to take lightly."

"I understand," I said, the words tasting hollow even as I spoke them.

In truth, my mind was far from this room, from the suitors, from the weight of expectations pressing down on me. All I could think about was the night, the freedom it promised, and the person who had somehow become the center of my restless thoughts.

-

The air outside was crisp and carried the faint scent of rain as I slipped through the shadowed corridors of the estate. The servants had long since gone to sleep, and my father was likely still poring over letters in his study. I tightened the cloak around my shoulders, the fabric muffling the sound of my footsteps.

This was becoming a routine—an escape I couldn't resist. The thrill of sneaking out, of shedding the suffocating weight of my title, was addictive. And though I would never admit it aloud, I wasn't just wandering aimlessly anymore.

I wanted to see him.

Why?

I could not tell you.

He was so, well, rude.

But rude is better than boring.

The thought made my cheeks warm, and I shook my head as if to dispel it. This wasn't about Max—not entirely. It was about freedom. Independence. About proving, if only to myself, that I could make choices that were mine and mine alone.

I made my way through the dimly lit halls, my heart racing with each turn. As I reached the servants' entrance, a shadow moved in the corner of my eye, and I froze.

"Annalise?"

I turned sharply to find Clara standing a few feet away, her hands clutching the hem of her cloak. Her eyes were wide with surprise, her lips parted as if she couldn't quite believe what she was seeing.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her voice low but insistent.

"I could ask you the same," I countered, regaining my composure.

Clara hesitated, her gaze flicking toward the door behind me. "I—"

"You're sneaking out, aren't you?" I pressed, crossing my arms.

She flushed, her guilt evident. "And you're not?"

We stared at each other for a moment, both of us caught red-handed. Finally, Clara sighed, her shoulders slumping. "I'm going to see Franco."