Page 92 of Maverick

As I buried my face in baby Mark’s tiny shoulder, I realized that even though I’d pushed Maverick away, a part of me clung to the hope he’d find a way to free us from this living nightmare. Because no matter how many times I said I was “happy,” I couldn’t ignore the ache in my chest that whispered,You still love him.

But until then, I’d lock my heart behind these mansion walls, pretending everything was fine. Pretending Mark Adam Martin wasn’t truly MarkAdam Hart.

Chapter 47

I watched the front doors of our mansion swing open as Mark strode in, precisely at ten o’clock, a mere ten minutes later than he’d texted. My heart did its usual uneasy flutter, equal parts dread and resigned acceptance. The baby, tucked in my arms, let out a soft coo, unaware of the trouble filling the foyer.

“Lexi?” Mark called, his voice echoing off the marble. He stepped into view, immaculate as always in a tailored charcoal suit, tie loosened just enough to appear casually refined. His gaze flicked over me, then over the baby. “Who was at the door earlier?” he asked, setting his leather briefcase on a polished hall table.

Of course he’d ask. The security staff probably mentioned a visitor. My mind flashed to Maverick, the raw desperation in his eyes, the way he looked at our son, his son, before I practically forced him out. I was still shaken up by it.

There was no use lying. Mark would see him on the video. I summoned a steady breath. “It was… Maverick,” I said quietly, choosing honesty.

His expression hardened, though a spark of interest flickered in his eyes. “He showed up here?” He stepped closer, brushing his hand over the baby’s head. “And you sent him away?”

“I told him the baby isn’t his, and that I was happy here.” The lie caught in my throat, but I forced it out. “I handled it.”

Mark visibly eased. “Good.” His lips curved in a triumphant smirk. Then he leaned in and pressed a perfunctory kiss to my cheek.

The scent of his expensive cologne washed over me, and under it there was another scent, more feminine. Nauseatingly sweet.

“He left,” he murmured. “So, you did well.”

My cheeks burned with anger and shame, but I kept a placid smile plastered on my face. He gave my waist a possessive squeeze, then pulled back. “I’ll be out late tonight,” he added, removing his tie and draping it over a marble bust near the hallway. “Don’t wait up.”

I stifled a bitter laugh. We both knew what that meant. He’d been discreetly seeing other women for months, some fling or multiple flings, though he never bothered to hide it much after I’d caught him in the act at the office. Our marriage was nothing but a front, our bedroom arrangements purely for show. “All right,” I whispered, adjusting the baby’s blanket.

He gave me a final nod, then swept through the hall, calling out for the driver. The front doors banged shut behind him, leaving me in the echoing stillness.

I stared down at the baby’s eyes, big and bright with innocence, my heart aching. This was how life had been since I married Mark, empty, routine, ruled by fear. If Maverick hadn’t appeared earlier, I might’ve stayed numb. But his visit cracked open something inside me, a longing for the biker I once trusted more than anyone else.

Yet I’d told Mark I was happy, just to protect my child from more mob threats. The same twisted sense of duty hadforced me to keep Maverick away.I’m sorry,I silently told my son.It’s the only way I know how.

Afterwards, the days blurred. Mark came and went, sometimes doting on the baby, other times ignoring us entirely. Every coo, gurgle, and smile from the baby reminded me so much of Maverick. And that I sent him away. It was tough. But I carried on, playing my role as the perfect trophy wife on maternity leave.

The next Saturday, I found a rare chance to slip away. Nova had invited me to brunch. She’d texted me, urging me to get out of the mansion. I put on a simple floral dress, strapped the baby into the car seat, and sent Mark a quick text about meeting some girlfriends for a ladies’ lunch. He barely acknowledged it, just typed back, giving me permission. He was probably off with one of his mistresses, anyway.

So, I drove to our usual spot, a cozy café near downtown. The city was baking, but the awnings provided shade on the sidewalks. People were walking around with iced coffees, couples had their dogs out. It was all so lively, a total change from my stuffy life at Mark’s mansion. I missed this life.

Nova was already seated at a corner table, wearing sunglasses pushed into her dark-blonde hair. The instant I approached with the stroller, she jumped up to hug me.

“God, Lex,” she whispered, glancing at the baby. “He’s getting so big!”

I gave a tight smile, settling the stroller beside my chair. “Babies tend to grow,” I joked weakly. Then I took a seat, ignoring the pang in my heart. He was Maverick’s spitting image.

Nova studied me with sympathetic eyes. “How are you holding up?”

Fiddling with my napkin, I lifted a shoulder. “I’m… managing.” My tone sounded hollow. “Mark’s still controlling, still sees other women, but at least he’s not on my case every second. The baby’s healthy, that’s all that matters.” Except I couldn’t quite meet her gaze.

She sipped her lemonade. “And Maverick? I know he visited. Are you okay?”

I remembered the intensity in Maverick’s eyes. “He’s gone now. I told him I was happy. Not to come back. I had to.”

Nova frowned. “You had to?”

I was on the verge of tears. “Yes, because Mark, he’d use the mob to crush him if he discovered he knew the truth. I can’t risk that. I can’t lose…” My voice broke. “I can’t lose Maverick… if the mob hunts him down… This arrangement is all I have to keep everyone alive.”

Nova squeezed my hand across the table, silent empathy flowing between us. It was so great to have someone to talk to who understood my position.

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