6
Summers felt completely lost. All she could do was gape at everything around her, feeling like a poor girl plucked from a roadside alley and dropped into this extravagant world. She kept glancing around, her eyes taking in the people, the lavish setting, the gleaming chandeliers, and the elegance of it all.
Beside her, a group of beautiful girls were talking loudly enough about Maximus that it hurt her ears.
"Maximus is the most beautiful man I've ever seen," one of them said, making the others giggle.
"I agree," another chimed in, "I would do "anything" to get into his bed. Just one night would be enough for me."
The laughter that followed made Summers wince. She was forced to look in their direction, both shocked and disgusted by their words.
One of the girls, a blonde with perfect curls, noticed her stare and smirked. "What? Wouldn't you want to be in his bed too?" she asked, licking her lips. "Ugh, he screams money." They all eyed Summers, waiting for her response.
"No, and that's disgusting," Summers replied firmly, unable to hide her disdain. The blonde scoffed at her words.
"Animal," she muttered, causing the others to burst into laughter again.
One of them leaned forward with a mocking smile. "Where are you from, anyway?"
Summers' jaw tightened, her patience running thin.
"Well, that's none of your business. And I'd appreciate it if you'd stop talking to me," she said, turning her gaze back to the mesmerizing view ahead, determined to ignore their snickers and whispers.
Summers kept her gaze forward, trying her best to mind her own business, but their endless chatter about Maximus piqued her curiosity. She had no intention of getting involved, but the way they spoke about him made her wonder just who this man really was.
"He has an estate company, Echelon Estate," one of the girls said confidently. "You haven't heard?"
"Oh, I have," another replied, flipping her hair. "He sells estates, luxury items. Only people of our class can afford what he's offering," she added with a smug smile.
Summers' face remained impassive, but her ears caught every word, making her quietly gasp at the casual mention of such wealth and influence.
"Weston Plaza, one of his famous hotel" another chimed in. "I've been there. And guess what? I came face to face with the god himself," she bragged. "He looked at me and couldn't take his eyes off my... well, let's just say my perfectly shaped figure."
"That's a lie," one of the girls interrupted, rolling her eyes.
Summers felt a sudden urge to laugh at their desperate attempts to impress each other and grab his attention. It reminded her of the video—Maximus wasn't wrong. These women were practically begging for his notice, hoping for the smallest bit of his attention, longing for a call to his bed.
With an exasperated roll of her eyes, Summers decided she had heard enough about Maximus for one night. The mystery surrounding him, however, lingered at the back of her mind.
As the waiter passed by for the tenth time, Summers finally accepted a glass of wine. She wondered where Kelvin had disappeared to. Everyone had a partner, even the women around her, but she was alone—her phone still held hostage by Kelvin.
"Son of a..." she muttered under her breath, stopping short of finishing the insult.
Looking down at the glass, she sniffed it cautiously, trying to figure out if it was alcoholic.
Suddenly, she heard a chuckle behind her.
Turning, she saw a boy, probably in his mid-twenties, with messy brown hair and a playful glint in his eyes. He was tall, dressed casually compared to the others, with a hint of mischief in his crooked smile. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets as he tilted his head at her, clearly amused.
"You really smell your drink before a sip?" he asked with a chuckle, still amused.
Summers felt her cheeks warm with embarrassment. With a blushing smile, she replied, "I... I just wanted to make sure it wasn't alcoholic."
He smiled, stepping a little closer. "You don't want to get drunk?" he teased.
"Not tonight," she said, trying to laugh off her nervousness. "I'd rather not make a fool of myself."
He chuckled softly, then leaned in a bit, lowering his voice. "Next time, instead of sniffing it, just give it a little swirl. You'll be able to see how it clings to the glass—if it's thick, it's probably alcoholic. No need to go full detective mode," he added with a wink.
Summers smiled, still feeling a bit embarrassed but more relaxed.
"Swirling it? Well, that sounds much more elegant than sniffing like a detective," she replied, playfully swirling her glass as if testing out his advice. "You might've just saved me from public humiliation," she added with a grin.
He laughed softly. "Happy to help. I'm Lucas, by the way. And you are?"
"Summers," she replied, meeting his gaze with a warm smile.
"Nice to meet you, Summers," Lucas said, his tone friendly. "So, how's your night been? Aside from, you know, sniffing drinks," he teased lightly.
She chuckled. "Honestly? It's been... overwhelming. I wasn't even sure I'd make it here tonight."
"Yeah, this place is something else," he said, glancing around. "First time at a gala this grand?"
Summers nodded. "I feel like everyone here knows exactly what they're doing, and I'm just... lost."
Lucas smiled kindly. "Trust me, you're not the only one who feels that way. You're doing fine. Plus, you've got me now," he added with a playful wink.
Summers laughed softly, feeling at ease. "Thanks. So, what about you? Are you a regular at these things?"
Lucas shrugged, a slight smirk playing on his lips. "Well, technically, I'm here for family. so... you know, can't really skip out."
She smiled swirling her drink again.
"Same here"
She continued "I didn't expect to meet family tonight. You guys must have some interesting gatherings."
"Oh, you have no idea," he replied with a playful grin. "But tonight, I'm just trying to survive like everyone else."
Summers laughed, feeling more at ease with the conversation. "Well, I'm glad I ran into you. You're the first person who hasn't made me feel out of place tonight."
Lucas smiled warmly. "Same here. Glad we could save each other from this glamorous madness."
Lucas' eyes flickered down to her hand, where the engagement ring glinted under the soft gala lights. He raised an eyebrow, his playful smile dimming slightly.
"Wait a second," he said, nodding toward her hand. "You're engaged?"
Summers followed his gaze, her heart sinking a little. She hadn't expected this conversation to take such a turn. "Not that i'm but....Yeah... it's complicated," she muttered, trying to keep her tone light but feeling the weight of the ring.
Lucas looked at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. "Complicated, huh? Doesn't sound like you're too thrilled about it."
She hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. "It's not exactly a fairytale," she admitted quietly, her thumb absentmindedly rubbing against the ring. "But... it is what it is, I guess."
Lucas leaned in a little, his tone softer. "If you ever feel trapped, maybe it's worth asking yourself if that's the kind of 'happily ever after' you really want."
Summers glanced at him, surprised by his insight. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "Thanks, Lucas. I'll keep that in mind."
Lucas straightened up, giving her a warm, encouraging smile. "Well, if you need to escape any more awkward conversations tonight, you know where to find me."
She chuckled softly. "I'll keep that in mind too."
Trying to lighten up the mood, Summers had a twinkle in her eyes.
" Where do__" she trailed off when a sudden surge of excitement rippled through the room. The noise level shot up, and heads turned towards the entrance as murmurs and whispers grew louder.
"Maximus has arrived!" someone exclaimed, sending the crowd into a frenzy.
Summers sighed, rolling her eyes at the over-the-top reaction. Lucas, noticing her subtle disdain, smirked. "Not impressed by Maximus Weston?" he teased.
She glanced at him, half-smiling. "Does it seem like I am?"
He chuckled, shaking his head. "No, definitely not. Most people lose their minds just hearing his name, but you... you seem pretty unfazed."
Summers shrugged. "I guess I just don't get the hype. Everyone treats him like he's some kind of god, but... he's just a guy, right?"
Lucas raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her casual dismissal. "He's a lot of things. But to be fair, he's not exactly the easiest guy to understand. Most people only know the surface."
She narrowed her eyes curiously. "And you? You seem to know him better than most."
Lucas leaned in slightly, his voice lowering as if to share a secret. "Let's just say, family dinners are interesting. Maximus is my cousin."
Summers blinked, surprised. "Your cousin? No wonder you're not freaking out like everyone else."
He smiled, a little more seriously now. "Yeah, but trust me, it's not all glamor and flashing cameras. He's... complicated. But enough about Maximus. I'm more interested in why someone like you rolls their eyes at all this."
She met his gaze, her expression softening. "I guess... I just don't feel like I belong here. All this is too much."
Lucas smiled warmly. "I think you're handling it better than you give yourself credit for." Summers smiled at his words looking into his eyes, she still didn't have an idea why Maximus still unfazed her.
•°•°•°•°•°•
Outside, the scene erupted in chaos as the sleek Bugatti La Voiture Noire pulled up, catching everyone's attention. People crowded the streets, pressing up against the barriers to catch a glimpse of whoever was inside. Two more luxurious cars, a Rolls-Royce Phantom and a Lamborghini Centenario, pulled up right behind, adding to the spectacle. One by one, well-dressed men and women exited the vehicles, but it was clear no one was waiting for them.
All eyes were glued to the final car—the one carrying Maximus Weston.
When the door of the Bugatti finally opened, the crowd lost it. Screams echoed as cameras flashed wildly, and reporters jostled to get the best shot. On social media, livestreams went viral as viewers tuned in to witness Maximus' grand entrance. But what made it more dramatic was that he stepped out alone. No woman by his side, no entourage to fawn over him.
Maximus stood tall, his presence commanding yet distant, as if the world beneath his feet meant nothing. His cold, piercing blue eyes scanned the crowd without a hint of emotion. The way he walked—slow, deliberate—oozed arrogance. Every move seemed to declare that he owned the space, the moment, and the people around him.
He ignored the sea of voices calling his name, the fans who stretched out their hands in hope of a glance or wave. His expression was unreadable, his gaze forward, never once acknowledging the madness he caused.
The press, however, were relentless.
"Mr. Weston, any comments on your latest business venture?" one reporter shouted.
"Are the rumors true about a new acquisition in Europe?" another yelled, trying to keep up with his pace.
"Maximus, is it true you're expanding into the tech industry?"
"Who's the lucky woman tonight?"
He didn't slow down. He didn't smile. He didn't even look in their direction. With the air of someone who had better things to do, Maximus made his way toward the entrance of the gala, security keeping the eager crowd at bay. His silence spoke louder than any words could. It was as if the chaos around him didn't exist, or worse, it wasn't worthy of his attention.
Without answering a single question or acknowledging anyone, he disappeared into the gala, leaving the frenzy outside to buzz on without him.
Back inside, the moment the screams grew louder, the girls who had been chatting beside Summers earlier rushed past her, eager to catch a glimpse of the commotion. One of them bumped into Summers in their haste, and her wine glass tipped, spilling its contents onto Lucas' suit.
"Oh no! I'm so sorry!" Summers gasped, her cheeks flushing red as she hurried to grab a napkin.
Lucas looked down at the stain, but instead of being upset, he chuckled. "It's okay, really. It's just a suit."
Summers relaxed slightly, though she still felt bad. After a brief moment of awkward silence, she asked, "So... are you Maximus' first cousin?"
Lucas shook his head with a small smile. "No, no. Maximus is the first cousin. He's the one with the name, the power, all of it." He gestured around the gala, as if to emphasize his cousin's influence. "I'm just the guy who shows up at these things."
Summers nodded, sensing the shift in the conversation. Before she could say more, Lucas glanced toward the crowd gathering near the entrance. "I should go check on my brother—he just arrived, fashionably late as always."
With a friendly nod, Lucas excused himself. "I'll catch up with you later."
And just like that, Summers was left alone again, surrounded by the lavish gala and the ever-present buzz of excitement surrounding Maximus Weston's arrival.
Sad at Lucas leaving, Summers' eyes instinctively followed the direction of the entrance, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man everyone was losing their minds over—Maximus Weston.
But the thick crowd, security personnel, and bodyguards blocked any clear view. She wanted to move closer, just for a better look, but the sheer size of the crowd made her hesitate. It felt like too much, and she wasn't sure if it was worth the trouble.
On the other side of the room, Maximus commanded attention as he moved through the crowd with effortless power. Important figures, even the president himself, extended their hands to greet him.
But Maximus, with his cold, emotionless expression, gave only the barest nods in acknowledgment. His handshakes were brief and firm, offering no warmth or connection, just a reminder of his dominance in any room he stepped into.
His assistant, always by his side, stood ready to address any business inquiries or requests. Maximus barely spoke, letting his presence and reputation speak for him. Bodyguards flanked him, a silent but intimidating barrier, ensuring no one could get too close without permission.
Wherever he moved, eyes followed, conversations paused, and the room seemed to revolve around him. But Maximus remained indifferent, his icy demeanor unwavering as if the world beneath him was just another piece in his carefully controlled empire.
The president leaned in slightly, raising his voice over the crowd, "Maximus, I'd like to discuss an important matter regarding—"
Maximus barely turned his head, his brow furrowed in annoyance. "Excuse me?" he asked, his deep voice cutting through the noise, but the chaos of the crowd drowned out the president's words completely.
Maximus didn't wait for clarification. Without bothering to ask for permission, he rose from his seat, his towering figure instantly drawing the attention of the room.
He walked with purpose, cutting through the crowd with his bodyguards trailing behind, every head turning to follow him as he made his way to the stage.
The noise level began to drop, murmurs sweeping through the room as people noticed his presence. Summers, still far from the stage, finally got her first look at Maximus Weston. Even from a distance, his commanding presence was undeniable.
Maximus took the microphone, his cold, piercing gaze sweeping over the crowd before he spoke. His voice was low but firm, carrying a weight that silenced the room entirely.
"Enough," he said simply, his tone laced with authority. "If you're here to gawk, take a picture, and move on. Otherwise, sit down and enjoy the gala in peace. This is not a circus."
The entire room froze. The press, the guests—everyone fell silent, hanging on his every word. Then, without waiting for a response, Maximus handed the microphone back to the host and walked off the stage, returning to his seat as though nothing had happened. The world seemed to exhale only after he sat down.
As the noise settled, Summers exhaled softly, muttering under her breath, "Thanks, Mr. Weston." A small smile tugged at her lips. She couldn't believe how much Maximus' cold voice echoed in her mind, sending shivers down her spine, almost as if he was speaking directly to her.
She didn't get a clear look at him up close, but her mind wandered back to the video she'd seen of him. With a quiet chuckle, she shook her head.
"You're crazy, Summers," she whispered to herself.
On the other side of the room, the president, who had hoped to continue his conversation with Maximus, was instead met with an amused grin. He thought Maximus would indulge him but was impressed when Maximus silenced the crowd instead. "You have excellent taste, Mr. Weston. The gala is truly magnificent," the president complimented with a smile.
Maximus, with his usual calculative expression, glanced around, his eyes scanning the room for familiar threats. After a pause, he responded, "Thank you." His voice was calm yet distant. He continued, "What were you saying earlier?"
"I was asking about MaxTech," the president replied before pausing, noticing Maximus' brief sigh. Maximus knew exactly where this conversation was headed, but he was hoping for a night off. Feeling exhausted, he opted to shut it down.
"I acknowledge your request. My assistant will provide you with the answers after the gala," Maximus stated firmly, wanting to end the conversation there.
Just then, a familiar voice whispered near him, "One glass of wine for Max?"
Maximus turned, his brow raised at the audacity of someone calling him 'Max.' But as he turned, he saw Lucas, his playful cousin, holding a glass of wine, perfectly chilled with ice cubes, just the way Maximus liked it.
He took the glass, offering a barely visible half-smile. Lucas, always full of energy, turned to the president with a grin and extended his hand, "Arnold Lucas, cousin of the great Maximus Weston."
"Ah! Good to meet a relative of Mr. Weston," the president said warmly, but before he could continue, his phone rang. With a slight bow, he excused himself. "I'll have to leave, but I look forward to seeing you soon."
As the president walked away, Lucas turned back to Maximus, looking around in awe. "This is amazing!" Lucas exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement.
"No... Not you again," Maximus muttered, his voice cold and clearly tired of the flattery.
"I never thought Max could get tired of compliments," Lucas teased, elbowing him lightly.
Maximus narrowed his eyes, "I'm not in the mood for teasing."
Lucas chuckled, undeterred. "Ah, that never works on me, bro. Besides, you're never in the mood for anything."
Maximus was about to retort when his assistant leaned in, whispering something into his ear. He took a sip of the wine Lucas had brought him, letting the chill wash over his irritation.
"Where's your father, anyway?" Lucas asked, finishing his own glass in one gulp.
Maximus stood up abruptly. "I have business to attend to," he replied coldly.
Lucas' eyes widened. "No, no, no! You don't! Your father isn't here, and this is your gala now. So, you're going to accompany me to meet some buddies and ladies, and after that, we're hitting my club to celebrate your upcoming birthday!"
Maximus let out a rare chuckle, "Business is more important than that."
Lucas rolled his eyes, smirking, "That's what you always say. Sounds like fun to me, though." He then turned to Maximus' assistant with a playful wink. "I'm borrowing your boss for the rest of the night."
Without waiting for permission, Lucas draped an arm over Maximus' shoulders, guiding him away. As they walked, the sweet scent of Maximus' cologne filled the air, catching the attention of several women as they passed.
Despite his reluctance, Maximus knew Lucas well enough to realize there was no escaping him. And besides, it had been a long time since he'd allowed himself to have fun. Maybe, just maybe, tonight would be a break from the endless grind of promoting his empire, especially MaxTech.
Summers sighed, her eyes drifting to Kelvin as he moved with a group of men and women, leaving her feeling isolated. She didn't want to seek out Lucas—he was probably busy—so she let her gaze wander over the dance floor. The movements of the dancers only reminded her that she didn't know how to dance, nor did she particularly care to learn.
Just then, she felt a light touch on her bare back, followed by a chuckle. Her body tensed as she turned, only to find the man Kelvin had introduced her to earlier.
"Ah, Summers, right?" he smiled, his eyes sweeping over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "I didn't get to properly introduce myself earlier. The name's Richard."
Summers forced a polite smile, though her muscles tightened in discomfort. "Yes, I remember. Nice to meet you again."
Richard's gaze lingered far too long on her chest, making Summers instinctively fold her arms over herself, cringing at his blatant stare. "You know, a woman like you standing alone at a party like this? It's a waste. You should be on the dance floor, turning heads."
Her stomach twisted. She shifted her weight, trying to remain composed, but the unease was clear in her voice. "I'm not much of a dancer," she said, her tone polite but strained.
Richard grinned, clearly ignoring her discomfort. "Oh, I doubt that. A woman like you has rhythm, whether she knows it or not." His eyes drifted downward again, and Summers' irritation spiked. She bit back the urge to roll her eyes, forcing herself to stay calm as her fingers gripped the fabric of her dress.
"I really don't know how to dance," she repeated, this time with more edge to her words.
Unfazed, Richard reached out, his fingers brushing her hand as he tried to pull her closer. The sensation sent a shiver of discomfort down her spine. "Don't worry, I'll lead."
Summers cringed, her body instinctively recoiling from his touch. She pulled her hand back quickly, her patience wearing thin.
"I appreciate it, but I'll pass," she said, her voice firm, trying to mask the rising irritation beneath the surface.
Before he could press further, Summers ducked into the crowd, weaving through the bodies in a rush to escape. She could still feel the lingering discomfort, her skin prickling from the encounter.
*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.
Maximus had grown tired of the endless conversations, handshakes, and forced smiles. Everywhere he turned, people were eager to talk to him, to be seen with him, or to capture a picture. It wasn't long before his patience wore thin.
As they wandered through the crowd, someone called out to Lucas. Maximus sighed in relief when he saw it was Lucas' mother. Lucas, the ever-dutiful son, rushed over to her side, leaving Maximus a perfect window to slip away unnoticed.
"Perfect," Maximus muttered under his breath. He immediately pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant's number, already plotting his escape. He wasn't in the mood for more of Lucas' idea of 'fun.'
As he walked through the crowd, his sharp eyes remained fixed ahead, focused on nothing but leaving this place as soon as possible.
Meanwhile, Summers was still drifting through the sea of people, trying to find somewhere to take refuge. Her heart raced every time she glanced over her shoulder, spotting Richard lurking at a distance, his eyes locked on her like prey.
She was too distracted, constantly checking if he was getting closer, when suddenly, someone in the crowd bumped into her. Summers stumbled forward, her heels slipping on the polished floor. Panic flashed in her eyes as she lost her balance.
Before Summers could completely lose her balance, her hand instinctively grabbed onto the nearest object — the fabric of a man's suit. She squeezed it tightly, her heart pounding as she realized it had saved her from falling. Daring to look up, her breath caught in her throat.
She had collided with Maximus Weston.
Their faces were mere inches apart, his cold, piercing gaze locking with hers. Up close, she could see every detail that made him the subject of whispers and admiration — his sharp jawline, stormy blue eyes, His thin lips, kissable and soft, remained set in a neutral line and the unmistakable aura of power that seemed to radiate from him. The scent of his expensive cologne filled the small space between them, intoxicating and sharp.
The crowd erupted into a murmur of excitement. Everyone around them was watching, buzzing with whispers about how she had just come face to face with the untouchable Maximus.
He didn't smile or show any sign of amusement; his gaze was as icy as ever.
Summers' face turned bright red. Embarrassment washed over her, and she felt her heart race even faster. Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson as she realized what had happened, her hand still gripping his suit. She quickly let go, flustered, her words caught in her throat.
"I—I'm so sorry," she stammered, unable to hide the awkward blush that painted her face as she looked away, desperate to escape the heat of the moment.
Her words faltered as she stepped back, her face burning with mortification. The soft murmur of the crowd around them seemed to grow louder, amplifying her discomfort.
Without a word, he brushed past her with a hard bump, causing her to stumble backward. The soft murmurs of surprise rose from the guests. Summers stood there, a mix of emotions swirling inside her, as he moved on, leaving her feeling both embarrassed and invisible.
Summers was acutely aware of the eyes still on her as she quickly walked away, the whispers and giggles following her. She found a quiet corner with stairs leading up and decided to escape to whatever lay beyond. To her surprise, she opened the door and stumbled into the women's bathroom.
She took a deep breath, her reflection in the mirror showing a flushed face and wide eyes.
"I held Maximus," she muttered to herself, her voice filled with disbelief.
"I touched him. I saw him." She tried to steady her breathing, grasping for some semblance of calm in the privacy of the bathroom.
But the initial shock began to fade, as anger took its place. She replayed the encounter in her mind, feeling frustrated that Maximus hadn't said a word. Why did she apologize? She scolded herself, her anger building as she wondered why she had reacted so apologetically when he had just stood there, silent and aloof.
The door creaked open, and three ladies strolled in, chattering animatedly. They stopped when they saw Summers, who was still flustered.
One of them raised an eyebrow and said, "Oh, look, it's the girl who crashed into Maximus. How did it feel to be in his personal space like that?"
Another giggled, "I bet you were mortified. He probably didn't even give you a second glance. Did he even say anything to you?"
The third added with a smirk, "Knowing him, he probably thought you were just another annoyance. I mean, why would he waste his time on someone like you? He doesn't even spare a glance at you begging like a slave for his attention."
Summers, her face burning, turned to them with a sharp glare. "You know what? I didn't come here to be ogled or mocked. Maximus might be all high and mighty, but he's just rude and indifferent. And frankly, he doesn't even spare a glance at you begging for his attention. Your opinions are the last thing I need right now."
The ladies blinked, taken aback by her bold response. They exchanged uncertain glances as Summers walked past them, leaving their taunting remarks behind.
Summers left the washroom, stepping back into the buzzing atmosphere of the gala. It was winding down, but there were still clusters of people mingling, chatting, and laughing.
The noise was overwhelming, and the sea of faces blended into a blur as her eyes scanned for any sign of Richard. She exhaled deeply, grateful not to spot him lurking nearby.
The weight that had been pressing down on her chest seemed to lift slightly, but all she could think about was leaving the gala as soon as possible. The noise, the people—it was all too much.
"Hey, Summers," a familiar voice called out, and she spun around quickly. Her breath caught in her throat for a moment until she saw it was Lucas, a welcome sight. She sighed with relief.
"Oh, Lucas! You disappeared for most of the night," she said with a smile, stepping closer to him.
"Sorry, princess, I had a lot to handle," he said, his tone light and teasing. "And when I say a lot, I mean... cousin-brother problems," he added with a grin.
Summers chuckled. "Nah, I totally get that," she replied, feeling at ease as Lucas moved closer and gently took her hand in his. There was no discomfort in his touch, only a strange warmth that felt... right. The softness of his hand against hers sent a calming sensation through her, something she didn't want to forget.
"I have somewhere to be," Lucas said, his smile broadening, "but before I go, I want to have a dance with my princess."
Summers felt a light blush creep onto her cheeks. "I'm not much of a dancer," she admitted shyly, glancing down at her feet.
"Then just follow my steps," Lucas said, his voice soft as he slid his hands to her waist, pulling her closer.
Summers felt the heat rise to her face as her heart raced. She placed her hands awkwardly on his shoulders, feeling the weight of the moment as she tried not to focus too much on the closeness between them.
As they swayed together, Lucas looked down at her and asked, "By the way, have you seen my cousin by any chance?"
At the mention of Maximus, an inexplicable shiver ran down Summers' spine, a jolt of energy shooting through her. "Uh... the last time I saw him, he was heading that way," she said, pointing in the direction she had seen Maximus walk off.
Lucas nodded, seemingly content with the answer. Summers, on the other hand, found herself unexpectedly smiling as the nervous tension that had built up in her body started to release. She was dancing. Freely. Without hesitation.
But her moment of peace was abruptly shattered.
"Summers!!!" a voice thundered through the crowd. Her heart leapt into her throat, the once calming atmosphere now thick with fear as she immediately recognized who it was. Kelvin.
In an instant, she broke away from Lucas, her face paling as Kelvin stormed toward her, fury radiating off him. Before she could say a word, he grabbed her arm harshly and yanked her to his side, his eyes burning with rage as he glared at Lucas.
Lucas, ever the gentleman, tried to remain composed. "Oh, Mr. Brooks, I've heard a lot about you. I'm—"
"Hold it right there!" Kelvin barked, his voice booming and commanding the attention of everyone around them.
"Summers, we leave now!" Kelvin snarled, his grip tightening around her arm.
Summers felt her heart hammering in her chest, her voice trembling. "N-No... I haven't even had a chance to say goodbye. I mean, I might never see him again—"
"Shut up, you cheater!" Kelvin yelled, his voice cutting through her like a blade. The accusation echoed in the room, and she felt the eyes of the crowd on her, judging, mocking.
A ripple of giggles erupted from a few girls nearby, their laughter digging into her like nails. Summers' entire body tensed as her face burned with humiliation. She tried to hold herself together, but the weight of the moment was suffocating.
"I said we leave now!" Kelvin repeated, his voice colder and louder as he dragged her away from the crowd. Summers, though her body followed his command, felt an intense anger building inside her, the sting of embarrassment and unfairness twisting deep into her chest. The noise of the crowd, the whispers, the giggles—all of it blurred together in a haze of shame.
Her vision blurred with embarrassment, and she fought to keep the tears at bay. The word "cheater " rang a slap on her face , making her feel small, insignificant and helpless.
Summers' heart pounded in her chest as she felt Kelvin's grip tighten around her arm, yanking her away from Lucas. Her cheeks flushed with heat, not from the pleasant warmth of dancing, but from the sting of humiliation. All eyes were on them, whispers buzzing around like a swarm of bees.
But beneath the hurt, anger simmered. How dare Kelvin humiliate her like that? The unfairness of it all made her blood boil. She had done nothing wrong, yet here she was, being paraded around as if she were guilty of some terrible crime. And for what? A harmless dance?
Summers gritted her teeth, swallowing the words she wanted to scream at him. How dare he control her like this? She felt the weight of his words pressing down on her chest, suffocating her, and the embarrassment clung to her like a second skin, but all she could do was follow Kelvin, her anger and shame locked tight inside.