A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter twenty

The night is quiet—too quiet. The stillness presses against me, heavier than the suffocating atmosphere of the Lockhart estate event earlier. Hours of enduring polite smiles and empty conversations left me drained, my father's watchful gaze a constant reminder of what I'm supposed to be. The perfect daughter. The obedient duchess-to-be.

Now, as the house finally settles, I can feel my pulse quickening. My father retreats to his study for a final glass of wine, and the servants' footsteps fade as they retire for the night. The moment I hear silence, I know what I have to do.

I have to leave. Again.

Slipping out of my room, I move carefully through the dimly lit corridors. The polished floors creak faintly beneath my soft-soled shoes, but I know where to step to avoid the loudest boards. My breath catches as I near the smaller side door that leads to the garden. My hand shakes slightly as I turn the latch. It creaks, a soft groan against the stillness, and I freeze.

Nothing.

The air outside is cool, and I pull my cloak tighter around me as I step into the garden. The scent of damp earth and blooming flowers surrounds me, but I barely notice it as I make my way toward the estate's back wall.

Climbing the large stone wall is harder tonight.

The cold stone bites into my fingers as I grip the edge, struggling to find footholds. My skirts snag, and I let out a frustrated huff.

I curse under my breath, trying to pull myself up without making too much noise. By the time I swing my legs over the top and land ungracefully on the other side, my heart is pounding.

For a moment, I stand there, breathing hard, unsure of where to go.

Or why I'm even doing this.

No, that's a lie. I know why.

Max.

His name pulls at me, a force I can't resist. I don't know if he'll be where I hope to find him. I don't even know if he'd want to see me. But something about him, the way he makes me feel free, alive... it's unlike anything I've ever known.

And despite every rational thought screaming at me to stop, I can't seem to help myself.

I slip into the shadows, keeping my head down as I make my way through the streets. The town is quiet, as usual, the lamps casting long, flickering shadows across the cobblestones.

The bar sits at the end of a narrow cobbled street, its windows glowing faintly with warm, flickering light. Daniel stands by the door, wiping his hands on a rag as he greets a pair of patrons leaving for the night.

I hesitate for a moment, lingering in the shadows. The faint hum of conversation and laughter drifts out to me, mingling with the clink of glasses. My heart thuds unevenly as I step inside.

The room is dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of spilled ale and woodsmoke. Men sit hunched over tables, their conversations loud and boisterous, while a few women linger near the bar, laughing and chatting with Daniel. It's chaotic but strangely comforting, a world away from my own.

I scan the room, searching for an empty seat, and then I see him.

Max.

He's sitting at a table near the corner, his posture relaxed as he leans back in his chair. A nearly empty glass sits in front of him, and there's a faint flush to his cheeks that suggests he's had more than one. When his eyes meet mine, his expression shifts. For a moment, he looks almost surprised, but then his lips curl into the faintest of smiles.

He tries to hide it, looking away as though he doesn't care, but I can see the flicker of something in his eyes.

I make my way over, and when I reach his table, he raises an eyebrow.