Chapter 4

• Chapter 4 The True Face of Maximilian
• Maximilian headed to his offices, which were hidden in massive warehouses in northern Manhattan. The loss of one of his shipments stirred anxiety and unease, not just because of the financial implications but because his enemies were closing in, and he could not afford to be vulnerable.
• He stepped out of his large limousine, wrapped in his overcoat and wearing leather gloves. Despite the night, dark glasses concealed his eyes; he hated being looked in the eye.
• "Geronimo, who is in charge of this shipment that was lost?"
• "Sacha, sir!" Geronimo replied nervously. Although he was Maximilian's right-hand man, he was more terrified of him than respectful.
• "Sacha has been with us for a short time, correct?"
• "Yes, sir. In fact, he is the newest among those in charge."
• Maximilian nodded. His anger over a possible betrayal drove him swiftly to the back of the warehouse. There, he found Sacha tied to a chair, surrounded by several men from Maximilian’s organization. Sacha’s face bore the marks of recent blows as the employees had tried to extract information from him.
• Maximilien approached, staring through his dark glasses. He could see the dread in the bound man’s eyes.
• “Sacha!” Maximilian demanded angrily. “What happened?”
• “Sir, forgive me. While we were at the dock, some men approached us and stole our cargo. All the merchandise was lost. I swear I tried to protect it with my life, but it was impossible.”
• Maximilian crouched down to Sacha’s level. The man was sweating, his hands trembling with nerves. His pants were wet, evidently from fear.
• “You should have given your life for that cargo, Sacha!” Maximilian said, his voice dripping with disappointment. “Do you have any idea how much it was worth?” he asked sarcastically.
• “No... not sir, I didn’t know! But please, spare my life. I promise I will try to recover it. Please, don’t hurt me,” Sacha begged. But Maximilian was too ruthless and feared to show any compassion. To him, anyone who lost a shipment without giving their life in the attempt was nothing more than a false bandit.
• Maximilian began to pace in circles, trying to manage his anger. He was not fond of killing everyone who failed him, but he couldn’t risk leaving Sacha alive. He could be a loose end. He glanced at those around him and raised his hands.
• "Well! Some decisions must be made with a clear head, and one of them is understanding that when you fail the organization that provides you everything for a good life, there are consequences!
• The men around him remained in complete silence. The panic Maximilian instilled in them went beyond his words; most had witnessed his reach and dared not utter a single word.
• "That’s why, dear friends, this man must face them," Maximilian said, pulling a gun from his overcoat. He turned to shoot Sacha directly in the head but was struck by a frivolous thought: the next day, he had a very special date with an enigmatic woman, and he didn’t want the memory of this night tainting his hands when he touched her.
• Maximilian took a deep breath and then exhaled, shaking his head.
• "Well, tonight I'll let you have fun with Sacha," he said, putting away his gun. "Don’t go overboard. I don’t want the woman in the toilet to have to clean up a lot of blood in the cellar tomorrow."
• The men remained silent, nodding their heads in acknowledgment. None were permitted to speak. Maximilian also nodded, a gesture indicating his approval for his men to handle the situation.
• He lit a cigarette and walked out of the cellar.
• "Geronimo, take me to my mansion."
• The driver looked at him oddly, as Maximilian never left loose ends.
• "Is everything all right, Mr. Maximilian?"
• "Better than ever. I need to rest. Tomorrow, I have early tasks to attend to."
• About thirty minutes later, Maximilian was back at his mansion. He sank into his large sofa and poured himself a glass of alcohol. He was somewhat puzzled by his decision not to shoot in the cellar. He had always been ruthless, so why had he acted differently tonight?
• What truly troubled him was the image of that fragile woman he had seen at the cemetery—his nephew’s ex-fiancée. This image had sparked an unhealthy obsession within him. He was not interested in a formal relationship; instead, he was eager to see Francisco’s reaction when his grandfather bestowed the entire family inheritance upon him. It would be a spectacle he could not afford to miss.
• He was unsure how many drinks he had consumed. By dawn, stumbling with a touch of drunkenness, he made his way to his room. Without even removing his clothes, he collapsed into bed and fell asleep.
• The next day…
• Madison spent the entire night unable to sleep. The announcement of her ex-boyfriend's marriage had sent her into a complete crisis. Her heart was shattered; she felt deeply unhappy and had sworn never to believe in love again. However, she was now willing to believe in revenge.
• She took a quick shower, applied some makeup to her pale face, and pulled her hair into a high ponytail. She donned her most elegant outfit, high heels, and used the last spritz of her finest perfume. If she was going to accept a proposal from a man like Maximilian, she had to be at her best.
• She grabbed the paper with the address of the mansion and, using her last bit of financial resources, took a taxi.
• An hour later, she stood before the most beautiful mansion her eyes had ever seen. Francisco had never taken her to his family’s estate; she had only ever seen his bachelor apartment, even though she was his formal fiancée. She had never experienced the luxuries of the Ferrers.
• Stepping out of the car, she gaped at her surroundings. A stunning garden flanked the path, emitting a delightful rose fragrance. The marble pathway shone as if it were constantly waxed. She walked for about ten minutes until she reached the grand wooden door that marked the entrance. Everything around her made her feel insignificantly small.
• She rang the doorbell twice and waited, her nerves frayed. Her heart pounded as if it might leap from her chest. Two bright drops of sweat formed on her forehead, and she could barely trust her legs to hold her up.
• The door creaked open, revealing a woman with a somewhat irritated expression. The maid was dressed in traditional attire, her cheeks flushed, and her hair tied into a tight bun on her head.
• “Yes?” the woman asked Madison. “Good morning, how can I help you?”
• “Well… good morning…” Madison stammered nervously. “I’m looking for…” Her voice trailed off.
• The woman looked at her with suspicion.
• “It’s better if you leave, miss. It’s dangerous to be around here,” the woman said, moving to close the door. But a voice from the end of the corridor stopped her.
• “Dennis! Why are you closing the door? She has an appointment with me.” Maximilian appeared out of nowhere, holding a glass of water. He was clearly suffering from a terrible hangover.
• Dennis opened the door to let Madison in, and she entered nervously, offering a smile of apology. The maid simply ignored her.
• “Good morning, Mr. Ferrer,” Madison greeted, her head lowered. Her nerves were on edge as she took in his attire—a fitted white T-shirt and tiny Bermuda shorts that left little to the imagination.
• “Good morning, Madison. Please come in. Give me an hour; I need to shower and change. I woke up late and lost track of time,” Maximilian said, drinking the glass of water in one gulp.
• Madison’s face brightened, and she nodded.
• “Don’t worry about me, sir. Take as much time as you need. I’ll wait for you right here.”
• Maximilian noticed the woman's discomfort, which amused him. Madison was like a little bird that had just emerged from its cage, facing an unfamiliar world. She was small, fragile, and overly sensitive, and for some strange reason, that drove him wild.
• "Madison, please have a seat. Ask Dennis if you need anything," Maximilian said, softening his tone. "I won’t be long. Please excuse me."
• Madison managed a small, shy smile and sat down as directed.
• Maximilian approached and stood before her. Madison lowered her head, swallowing a hard lump in her throat. She didn't dare to look directly at him, as the view of the attractive man was too enticing. She had to admit that Maximilian was much more appealing than her ex-boyfriend.
• "Madison, you look very elegant," Maximilian said, his words casual. Without further ado, he turned and left the room. Madison raised her head discreetly to watch him go. Her subconscious betrayed her as she bit her lower lip, noting the well-defined shape of Maximilian's legs—evidence of a perfect workout routine.
• She took out her phone and began reading a book she had been working on for days. It helped make the wait seem less interminable and calmed her nerves somewhat. About thirty minutes later, Maximilian appeared on the balcony of the second floor. Noticing that Madison was engrossed in her reading, he cleared his throat to announce his presence.
• "I'm back!"
• Madison looked up with a start and offered a sly smile.
• “Oh, I didn’t realize,” she said, quickly turning off her phone screen and rising from her chair.
• “Let’s go to my office,” Maximilian instructed. Madison, now feeling more composed than when she had arrived, followed him into the opulent office.
• Her eyes widened in admiration as she took in the luxurious surroundings. She was almost awestruck by the grandeur of the space; there wasn’t a single corner of the mansion that wasn’t eccentric and striking.
• “Mr. Maximilian, I…”
• “Sit down, Madison,” Maximilian interrupted, settling into his large armchair and indicating the chair opposite him. Madison nervously sat down and crossed her legs.
• “It seems very strange to accept your proposal, sir, considering I’m your nephew’s ex-fiancée. What will the family think?”
• “You need to think that we’re in love,” he replied bluntly.
• “I understand, Mr. Ferrer,” she said hesitantly.
• “You should start by not calling me ‘sir.’ From now on, its Maximilian, Maxi, darling, baby, teddy bear… whatever you prefer, except Mr. Ferrer.”
• Madison smiled mischievously. Despite his seriousness, Maximilian’s comment was amusing.
• “I understand, Maximilian,” she responded. “I’m not sure if I can do this; it feels so crazy, so illogical. It’s almost as if I’m committing a sin.”
• Maximilian leaned back in his chair, his gray eyes locked on Madison’s blue ones. He maintained his gaze without blinking. Madison tried to hold his stare but, overcome by nerves, eventually lowered her head.
• “Don’t be afraid. We’ll start by signing some notarized documents with all the conditions. For now, you just need to move in here. I know you’re staying in a hotel, and that’s no place for my fiancée. It will be only three years. After that, I’ll give you a house wherever you want.”
• Madison looked up, surprised by his words. She had sold her apartment to pay for the wedding with Francisco and had nothing left. Having something of her own again seemed like a distant dream.
• “Well, Maximilian, we need to get started, right? What should I do?”
• Maximilian looked her up and down. She had nothing to envy other women; her body was perfect. But if he intended for her to join him at the Ferrer house, he would need to dress her to match his standards. A few small changes would do no harm. He planned to shape her to his liking. After all, he was now her boss and someone with considerable power.