A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter twenty six

The knock at my bedroom door is sharp and decisive, jolting me out of my thoughts. I glance toward the mirror, where my reflection stares back, cheeks slightly flushed. My chest tightens at the memory of Max, but before I can linger on it, the door creaks open, and Harriet, one of the maids, steps in hesitantly. 

"Your father wishes to see you in his study," she says quietly, avoiding my gaze. 

I blink. "Now?" 

"Yes, miss." Her hands twist in her apron, a sure sign she's nervous. I don't blame her; even the staff seems to tread carefully when it comes to my father. 

I swallow hard, smoothing the skirt of my dress as I rise. Whatever this is, it can't be good. He rarely summons me unless it's to deliver a lecture disguised as fatherly wisdom or to remind me of the Cook legacy I'm meant to uphold. 

The walk to his study feels longer than usual. The grand halls of the estate, so familiar yet cold, seem to stretch endlessly. I pause outside the heavy oak door, my hand hovering over the brass handle, before finally pushing it open. 

He's standing by the window, his back to me, one hand resting on the edge of his desk. The fire in the hearth casts long shadows across the room, but the warm glow does nothing to soften his imposing figure. 

"You wanted to see me, Father?" I ask, keeping my tone as steady as I can manage. 

He turns slowly, his expression unreadable. "Sit." 

I hesitate but do as he says, lowering myself into the chair opposite his desk. He remains standing, looming over me, his hands clasped tightly behind his back.  "We need to talk," he begins, his tone measured but sharp enough to set me on edge.

"What about?"

"You've had ample time to prepare yourself for your future, Annalise," he says. "And now, the time has come to stop delaying. I've arranged for you to marry Lord Tompkins."

The words hit me like a slap. For a moment, I can't speak, can't even breathe.

"What?" I finally manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

"The engagement will be announced in two days," he continues, as if he hasn't just dropped a bombshell. "You'll meet him then to go over the details. This is not up for discussion."

"No," I say, shaking my head. "You can't—"

"I can, and I have." His voice rises, cutting through my protest. "This has been in the works for months, Annalise. Your stubbornness and endless excuses have left me no choice but to intervene."

"No!" My voice is louder this time, my hands clenching into fists. "You can't just decide my future like this! I don't want to marry him—I don't even know him!"

"You don't need to know him," he snaps, rising from his chair. "You need to understand your place, your duty. This marriage secures our family's standing—"

"I don't care about our standing!" I shout, standing as well. My voice trembles, but I don't back down. "What about what I want? What about how I feel?"

"What you feel is irrelevant," he says coldly, his jaw tightening.

I laugh bitterly, a sharp, broken sound. "Of course it is. Because nothing I want has ever mattered to you, has it?"

"Stop being dramatic, Annalise," he says, his tone laced with irritation.

"Dramatic?" I repeat, my voice rising. "You're telling me I have to marry a very boring stranger, and you think I'm being dramatic? Why are you like this? Why do you hate me so much?"