A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter twenty four

Third Person P.O.V

The Cook estate was always alive with whispers. The servants had a way of speaking without speaking, of exchanging glances and nods that carried far more than words ever could. Lately, those glances had been directed at one person: Annalise.

"She's sneaking off again," one maid muttered to another as Pierre walked by.

"I saw her leave late last night, and I've heard she meets with a man in the garden," another chimed in, their voices fading as Pierre's heavy steps echoed in the hall.

Pierre had seen it too, except he knew who she was sneaking off to see—Max. Him and Pierre's catch-ups at Daniel's bar led to a few too many conversations surrounding the duchess. It was clear Max liked Annalise.

And it was even more clear that Annalise liked Max—to Pierre at least. The late-night exits. The subtle slips away from the estate. The growing air of secrecy surrounding the duchess. It wasn't his business—or at least, that's what he told himself. Yet something about it didn't sit right.

I mean, Max was his friend. He wouldn't want her to cause him any harm.

His job as the chauffeur wasn't to meddle. It was to drive. And yet, as he adjusted the rearview mirror of the car, watching Annalise hurry over the wall one too many times, he felt a pang of concern. Or perhaps irritation.

Whatever it was, it led him to the school, to Max.

The man was predictable, always lingering around the courtyard in his worn jacket, looking far too comfortable for someone who seemed to be treading on thin ice. Pierre strode up to him with purpose, his footsteps heavy on the cobblestones.

"Max," Pierre greeted curtly.

Max turned, a cautious look crossing his face. "Pierre."

Pierre crossed his arms, fixing Max with the kind of glare that could reduce anyone to silence. "We need to talk."

Max raised a brow, his expression guarded. "About what?"

"About Annalise," Pierre said bluntly. He didn't miss the flicker of something—guilt, maybe—on Max's face. "You're playing a dangerous game."

Max shifted, his hands sliding into his pockets. "I don't know what you mean."

Pierre scoffed. "Don't play dumb. You think no one notices? Her sudden absences, the way she's sneaking around? People are already whispering, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out why."

Max said nothing, but his hands clenched in his pockets.

"You need to be careful," Pierre continued.

Max hesitated, then let out a sigh. "I'm not... doing anything wrong, Pierre."

"Not yet, maybe," Pierre shot back. "But you're treading a fine line. This isn't some harmless fling—she's a duchess. There are consequences for her. And for you."

"I know that," Max replied, his tone steady, though there was a flicker of something defensive in his gaze.

"Do you?" Pierre pressed, "This isn't just some harmless infatuation. She's the Duke's daughter, and you're—"

"A teacher," Max finished bitterly.

Pierre nodded, his expression unreadable. "Exactly. Do you know what will happen if someone finds out? If her father finds out?"

Max's jaw tightened. He'd thought about it—of course he had. Every time Annalise came to see him, every time they met in secret, he was acutely aware of the risks.

"I know what's at stake," Max said quietly.

"Do you?" Pierre challenged. "Because if you cared about her, you'd think twice before dragging her into this. And if you cared about yourself—Max this cannot end well. It's not like you two could get married. Her father would never accept you. I'm sorry."

Max's chest ached at the accusation. "I do care about her," he said, his voice firm.

"And what about caring for yourself? You used to be the only person you would look out for." Pierre says, voice raised.

Max opened his mouth to respond, but the words caught in his throat. Instead, he looked away, his gaze falling to the cobblestones beneath their feet.

After a moment, he spoke again, his voice softer. "Thomas is going to school now."

Pierre frowned. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"That's Annalise," Max said, looking up. "She convinced her father to fund his education. Do you know what that means for a boy like Thomas? For kids like him? She didn't have to do that, but she did. Because that's who she is."

Pierre's expression softened slightly, but his eyes were still wary.

"She's not just a duchess," Max continued. "She's kind, and brave, and... she deserves so much more than the life she's trapped in."

"And you think you can give her that?" Pierre asked, his tone laced with skepticism.

Max hesitated, the weight of the question pressing down on him. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I know I'd do anything to try."

Pierre studied him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Just be careful," Pierre said finally. "For your sake. And you know it's only going to end bad, so if I were you, I'd cut it off it before it gets too serious."

Max nodded, his chest heavy with unspoken promises.

As Pierre turned and walked away, Max stared after him, his thoughts a swirling mess. He knew the man was right—their secret meetings couldn't last forever. But as much as he tried to imagine letting Annalise go, he couldn't.

Because for the first time in his life, he'd found something worth fighting for.

And he wasn't ready to give it up.

The whispers at the estate weren't going to stop anytime soon, and Pierre wasn't entirely sure he could stop them. But one thing was clear: Max needed to tread carefully. And so did Annalise.

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