Page 12 of Forbidden Fruit

But she didn’t let me finish. She stood up, shaking her mass of blonde curls. “You know what? Just forget it.” And with that, she turned and stormed back into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

I sat there, stunned, the silence ringing in my ears. The guilt gnawed at me, but I couldn’t let it consume me. I had to keep going. I had to find out the truth.

With a heavy heart, I got up and walked back to my room. It was Wednesday, and I knew I’d see Maxwell at Sweet Cocktails tonight. I needed to see him. I needed to figure out where I stood before this whole thing consumed me.

***

The drive to the bar felt longer than usual, my mind racing with everything that had happened. Johnny’s death, Trina’s anger, the photos I’d found in Maxwell’s hidden room. I was falling for him, I couldn’t deny that, but I was also terrified. The photos I discovered in his office—they frightened me. Some of them showed armed men. Was that normal for exporters? Maybe that type of security was necessary for moving large quantities of goods across international borders? Or could he really be working with the cartels, like Burt suggested?

And now Johnny was dead. My head was spinning, and I realized that unless I chose who to place my trust in, my own life could be at stake.

As I walked into the VIP area at Sweet Cocktails, I tried to steady my nerves. The lights were dim, the music soft, but the tension inside me was almost unbearable. I had to keep it together. I had to face Maxwell, look into those dark eyes of his, and figure out what the hell was really going on.

When he walked in at the appointed hour with his entourage, he caught my eye and smiled, looking as sexy and composed as ever. But tonight, I wasn’t just here to serve him a drink. I was here to get answers, no matter what it took.

Chapter Six

MAXWELL

Lying next to Raya in the soft glow of the bedroom, I could feel her tension vibrating through the mattress, a taut energy that contrasted sharply with the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Her soft caramel skin, warm and smooth beneath my fingers, seemed almost too delicate for the weight she was carrying. I could tell something was gnawing at her, something she was trying hard to keep from me, but I didn’t press. Not yet.

The room was dimly lit, the night spilling through the large windows in shades of deep blue, casting shadows that danced across the walls. The scent of jasmine drifted in from the garden, mingling with the faint smell of the ocean that was always present here, a reminder of the world beyond these walls. The bed was big enough for both of us to lose ourselves in, but right now, it felt like the smallest space in the world, as if it were closing in on us, making the air thick with unspoken words.

I reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from her face, my fingers lingering on her cheek. Her skin was soft, her eyes wide and shimmering with unshed tears. She was holding back, trying so hard to keep it together, but I knew she was close to breaking.

And then, just as I thought she might keep it all inside, the dam broke. Raya’s breath hitched, and she suddenly turned away from me, her shoulders shaking with the force of her sobs. It was as if she couldn’t hold it in any longer, as if the pressure had become too much, and it all came pouring out in a flood of tears.

I didn’t say anything at first. I just moved closer, wrapping my arms around her from behind, pulling her against my chest. Her body was warm, her back pressed to my front, and I could feel every tremor that ran through her as she cried. I rested my chin on her shoulder, my lips close to her ear, trying to offer comfort without words.

“Raya,” I finally whispered, my voice low and soft, barely more than a breath. “Darling. Talk to me. Tell me what’s wrong. Please. Whatever it is, I want to help.”

She didn’t answer immediately. She just cried, her sobs muffled against the pillow. I could feel her pain, raw and palpable, and it tore at something deep inside me. It took everything I had to stay calm, to not demand answers, to let her come to me on her own terms.

After what felt like an eternity, she began to speak, her voice thick with emotion. “My ex-boyfriend,” she said, the words tumbling out between shaky breaths. “He…he showed up at the bar. Johnny.”

My jaw clenched, but I kept my voice steady, soothing. “What did he do, Raya? What happened between you?”

She took a shuddering breath, and I felt her relax slightly in my arms, as if the simple act of talking was helping to ease some of the weight she was carrying. “I grew up in foster care,” she began, her voice barely more than a whisper. “In the system. I was shuffled around a lot, never had a real family, never had anyone to rely on. It was…it was rough. I was just a kid, and I had no one.”

I held her tighter, my chest tightening at the thought of her being so alone, so vulnerable at such a young age. She continued, her voice wavering. “Then Johnny found me. He…he offered me a way out. He said he’d take care of me, that I didn’t have to be alone anymore. I was desperate, naive. I believed him.”

Her words were laced with bitterness, self-loathing. I stroked her hair, trying to soothe her, to offer comfort where words couldn’t. “But he didn’t take care of you,” I said softly, knowing instinctively where this story was going.

“No,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “He didn’t. He got me hooked on drugs, and then…then he started pimping me out. I thought I had no choice. I thought that was all I was worth. I was so stupid, so broken.”

The tears started again, and I could feel the wetness of them soaking into the pillow. My heart ached for her, for the pain she’d endured, for the way she’d been used and discarded by someone who should have protected her. I wanted to find Johnny and make him pay for what he’d done to her.

“But Johnny’s dead now,” she whispered after a long moment, her voice trembling. “I saw it on the news this morning. His car went off a cliff. The police say it was an accident, but…I don’t know, Maxwell. I don’t know if I believe that.”

I tensed at her words, the implications swirling in my mind. Johnny’s sudden appearance, his death—something about it didn’t sit right with me either. But I couldn’t let Raya see that. Not yet. “Tell me everything,” I urged gently, trying to keep my voice calm. “What happened? How did he die?”

She hesitated, and I could feel the fear in her. “It was on the news this morning,” she repeated, her voice quieter now, almost as if she were afraid to say the words out loud. “His car…it went off a cliff and crashed at the bottom of a ravine. The police say it was an accident, probably because he was looking at his phone while he should have focusing on the road, but…I don’t know, Maxwell. I don’t know what to believe.”

Her words hung in the air between us, heavy with the weight of what they could mean. If Johnny’s death wasn’t an accident, then someone had killed him, or at least arranged his murder. And if someone had killed him, could Raya be in danger as well? The thought made my blood run cold.

I shifted, turning her in my arms so that I could look into her eyes. “Raya,” I said carefully, “if it wasn’t an accident, do you think someone might be after you too?”

Her eyes were wide, filled with a fear that made my heart ache. “I don’t know,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I don’t know who to trust, Maxwell. I’m scared.”

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