A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter thirty

Annalise P.O.V

I lay sprawled on my bed, staring at the canopy above me as my engagement—almost like a ton of bricks—settles over my chest. The world outside my room carried on—servants bustling in the hallways, my father shouting orders about preparations—but in here, it was as if time had frozen. I had barely moved all day, unwilling to face the reality of what my life had become.

The engagement ring on my finger caught the faint light of the moon spilling in through the window, mocking me. I turned it absently, the cold metal biting into my skin.

And Max.

Max, with his maddening determination and piercing blue eyes, had haunted me for days. The memory of our argument clawed at me, every word I had hurled at him replaying in my mind like a broken record. "I hate you," I had said. The words were vile, venomous, and completely untrue.

I didn't hate him.

I loved him.

The thought came unwnated, startling me as though someone had spoken it aloud. My chest ached, a realisation I had been fighting since the night I walked away. He had refused my plan to run away together, not because he didn't care, but because he did. He had wanted to protect me from the consequences, to spare me the hardship of abandoning my life. He had been looking out for me, even as I accused him of betrayal.

A soft knock at the window shattered my thoughts.

I sat up abruptly, my heart leaping into my throat. I stared at the glass, half-convinced I had imagined the sound. But then it came again—soft, insistent.

Tentatively, I crossed the room and pulled back the curtain. My breath caught.

Max.

He was perched on the narrow ledge outside, his hair tousled by the night breeze, his cheeks flushed from the effort of climbing. He gave me a sheepish smile and raised a hand in a small wave.

"Max," I hissed, throwing open the window. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to see you," he said simply, swinging his legs over the sill and stepping inside.

"You climbed up here?" I asked, incredulous. "Do you have any idea how reckless that is? Someone could have seen you!"

"I was careful," he said, brushing off my concern.

"Careful? You were scaling the side of my house!"

"I didn't know how else to get to you," he admitted, his voice soft. "I had to see you, Annalise."

I stared at him, torn between exasperation and something much softer. "You're unbelievable," I muttered, crossing my arms.

He gave me a half-smile, but there was something tentative about it, something unsure. "I'm sorry," he said, his gaze dropping to the floor.

"For what?" I asked, my voice quieter now.

"For the other night. For rejecting your plan. For hurting you." He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

"You were," I admitted after a long pause. "I just... I couldn't see it at the time. And I shouldn't have said what I did. I don't hate you, Max. I never could."

The tension between us hung heavy.

"Why are you really here, Max?" I asked finally, breaking the quiet.

He hesitated, his jaw tightening as he glanced toward the floor. When he looked up, his eyes met mine, and the intensity in his gaze made my breath catch. "I shouldn't be."