She sniffed and shook her head. “I finally had to admit I’d been blinded by love. I love you so much, Max. But I can’t trust you, so I’m asking you to move out.”
“Don’t,” Max begged, the word coarse and harsh as sandpaper in his throat. “Don’t do this.”
“Give me one reason not to. Call Damianos Drákon. Explain what happened in a way that anyone, not just I could believe.”
Max opened his mouth, but again the words refused to come. They were trapped behind a barrier he couldn’t possibly penetrate. Trying to fly…pavement…pavement…nothing but pavement.
And naturally, Dyana mistook that frustrated silence for concession. “I’m sorry it’s ending this way. Perhaps you could talk to Brandon. He has a second apartment over in Notting Hill. He might let you stay there for a bit until you manage to find another job.
“Was Brandon one of the friends you went out with last night?” Max asked, jealousy rearing inside his chest.
Brandon went to Oxford with them, but he was more Dyana’s friend than Max’s. The #richkid had been starring in his own bio show since secondary. And Max was fairly sure Brandon had only been pretending to like him these past few years, so his followers wouldn’t think he was prejudiced against guys without hashtags—even though he definitely was.
“Yes, Brandon was there,” Dyana answered. “And he’s very sympathetic. He has a cousin who had a similar mental break. The cousin ended up joining a cult, and Brandon’s uncle had to travel all the way to South America to bring him back.”
“So then, me buying my own plane ticket back wasn’t enough for the star of the Brandon show? He advised you to be done with me, and now what? You can try it on with him instead?”
“It wasn’t like that Max. You’re the one who disappeared for a supposed apprenticeship—with a trillionaire who refuses to give you a recommendation. You’re the one who won’t tell me the truth. And even if it is the truth, I know there’s something you’re keeping from me. I can see it in your eyes—”
A sharp knock on the flat’s front door cut her off mid-rant.
“Who’s that then?” Dyana asked with a frown. “No one’s supposed to be able to get up here past the doorman.”
The hairs on the back of Max’s neck gave sudden rise.
With the proliferation of robotic devices, it was considered quite posh to have an actual human accepting packages and whatnot in the lobby of your flat these days.
But when Max had returned to London, he no longer considered that detail of the condo a quality feature. More like a weakness. One Damianos Drákon could easily exploit, should he ever change his mind about letting him go. Max’s experience over those months with Drákon had taught him. Humans with bendable minds weren’t posh. They were only a fallibility where his master was concerned.
“Dy, run to the bedroom and hide,” Max said, running over to the kitchen’s butcher block. “Bio 999. And don’t come out until they get here. Even if I give you the okay.”
“What?” she asked. “What’s going on then?”
“Dy, please. I love you,” Max pulled the knife he had planned to carve the roast with out of the butcher block. “But you must run and hide. Now. If he finds out you’re here, I don’t know what he’ll do. What he’ll make you do.”
“If who finds out I’m here? What is this all about?” Dyana demanded, her eyes glued to the knife in Max’s hand. “Maxie, you’re scaring me.”
Another knock sounded at the door. Louder and more ominous than the first.
“I want to explain. I want to explain everything to you,” he told her, physically turning her body toward the door. “But I can’t. And there’s no time. Please just run.”
“No!” Despite her earlier rejection of him, she grabbed on to the wrist of his knife-free hand, hysterical tears pouring from her eyes. “I’m not leaving you. If you’re in trouble, then we’re in trouble together. And if whoever is outside the door tries to take you from me again, he’s got another thing coming.”
Sweet, sweet girl. Max didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. But he did know… “I don’t deserve you. And you were right…” Tears filled Max’s eyes as well. “You were right to break it off with me. So I’m begging you, babe. Run. You’ve got to run before it’s too…”
Short electronic beeps cut off Max’s plea. And they turned their heads toward the sound of someone pushing in the code on the door.
“But how?” Dyana asked again. She was braver and more loyal than Max ever would have imagined. But her voice was weak with fear.
This time he didn’t beg, he yelled. “Run!”
But Dyana didn’t run. She turned with him to face the incoming threat.
And when the door slid opened to reveal their intruder, she said, “Shocked face emoji! Is that Damianos Drákon?”