Page 59 of HEARTSTORM

I furrowed my brow as the soft sunlight peeked through the window. I immediately snuggled into Maya's chest to fall back asleep.

I'll stay like this, until the alarm goes off—

"Grace," Maya whispered.

I hummed, wordlessly.

"Wake up, baby, I've been thinking that—"

"It's too early to think, Maya," I muttered.

Maya chuckled, her fingers softly caressing my hair. "I need to talk to my father," she said, her tone more serious.

I opened my eyes, taking in her beautiful features. She looked so calm and warm as the sunlight brushed gently across her face. I wondered how long she had been awake.

"You look beautiful, baby," she said, smiling softly.

"I'm pretty sure you look even better," I teased.

She kissed my forehead before whispering, "I really want you to stay with me during this conversation."

"What's it about?" I asked curiously.

"Work..." she replied vaguely, making me furrow my brow.

Maya slipped off the bed, a confident smile on her face. "I'm gonna take a shower. Stay awake for me, Grace," she said, letting her fingers graze my hips.

"Yeah—yeah," I replied with a shrug, closing my eyes again.

But eventually, I couldn't fall back to sleep—I was too curious about what she meant by 'work.'

She had something on her mind, and my peaceful sleep had to wait.

When Maya came back from the bathroom, I showered and brushed my teeth. Afterwards, we got dressed—I slipped into one of her soft, oversized T-shirts and joggers, while Maya went for baggy pants with a fitted crop top.

She looked so tempting in that outfit, I could barely think straight...

I shook my head, trying to focus as we headed downstairs. "Elaborate on 'work,'" I said.

"I have a few questions for him," Maya replied cautiously. "And he needs to answer."

We took our seats at the lounge table, and when Nelly asked for our breakfast, we both went with pancakes and honey.

"Yesterday, your father was really understanding with us, Maya," I reminded her, taking a sip of my juice.

"Of course, baby, I remember," she said, wrapping her hands around her coffee cup. "That's exactly why today's the perfect day," she added.

We ate our pancakes slowly, Maya sipping as if she had all the time in the world. I kept wondering what was on her mind, and whether it was something I should worry about. That's when Victor stepped into the living room.

"Good morning," he greeted us.

His smile and the way he looked at us—relaxed, not stressed—felt so different to me.

We greeted him back, and I could tell Maya was already focusing on choosing her words carefully.

"Can we talk?" she asked. "Just a normal conversation," she added, almost casually.

Victor looked at her, then nodded slowly. "Of course."

"In your office. With Grace," Maya said firmly, a hint of impatience in her voice before adding "If that's okay."

"Certainly," Victor said, then gestured toward his office and led us inside—a place I'd never set foot in before.

It was an understatement to call it tidy. His office was impeccably organized, everything exactly in its place. His style matched Maya's sophistication, but unlike hers, his sense of order was meticulous.

We sat in the leather chairs across from him. I shifted awkwardly, trying to find a comfortable position.

Maya sat flawlessly—without hesitation, without fidgeting. Composed, poised.

Victor cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"So... this 'normal conversation' you mentioned?" he asked, his tone light but cautious.

He was just as skeptical as I was.

"To begin with, I wanted to—" Maya paused, swallowing hard. "Say thank you—for what you said yesterday."

I couldn't believe she had actually said the words thank you—to her father, no less.

Even Victor looked surprised for a moment before smiling. "It's the truth," he said quietly. "I just wish I'd realized it sooner."

Maya leaned back slightly in her chair, her fingers lightly tapping her knee. I stayed quiet, sensing this was something important.

"It's about the partnership with Crawford," she began, her voice calm but firmer now. "I want to know exactly when it started and why."

Victor's expression remained composed, but there was a long pause before he answered. He seemed to be choosing his words carefully, as if weighing how much to say.

"It started after your accident with Nick."

Maya's jaw tensed, but she didn't speak. She also didn't look surprised.

"I was trying to manage the consequences without involving you further," he added.

"So it wasn't business," Maya said, not accusing, just trying to make sense of it all.

Victor nodded, confirming her suspicion.

Her eyes darkened, an unreadable emotion flashing across her face. "He trapped you into accepting this deal? He threatened there would be consequences for what I did."

Victor nodded again. No other words needed—Maya was already figuring everything out.

I reached out and squeezed her hand as she seemed to zone out for a moment.

She returned my squeeze urgently, as if holding on to my touch anchored her against the chaos inside her.

That's why she wanted me here—she had already predicted it all.

But I wasn't surprised either. The Crawfords were so petty, this deal could only be a threat.

Maya looked down for a moment, then met Victor's eyes again, regaining her control. "You could've just told me."

"I didn't want to burden you," he replied.

Maya tensed again. "I'm not a child anymore. If something affects my life, I deserve to know about it."

Victor gave a slow, thoughtful nod. "You're right. I should have trusted you more."

"That's—" Maya sighed, strain in her voice. "It's not your fault," she murmured, and I gave her hand a gentle squeeze. "It's actually... my fault."

"It's not your fault, Maya," I cut in, holding her hand tighter. "It's Crawford's."

Victor nodded. "It's their fault."

Maya's shoulders loosened slightly, and her fingers relaxed around mine. The tight line of her jaw softened, and I could feel her body ease, just a little.

"Now," she said again, firmer this time, "how do we get rid of them?"

Victor took a breath and folded his arms. "We're in a partnership, Maya. We can't just get rid of them."

Maya scoffed. "We're not in a partnership. He blackmailed you into accepting it," she corrected him. "We have to do something."

Victor shook his head. "Not right now."

"Then I'm going to threaten them back," Maya said without hesitation, her tone defiant.

"What?" I snapped. "You're not going to do that."

Maya huffed, then locked eyes with me, catching my disapproval. "Fine, I won't do that. Just joking."

I nodded as she finally calmed down from her tantrum.

"But it has to be something," she insisted.

"We don't have any options for now, Maya," her father replied plainly.

Her expression turned dangerously serious, and when she spoke again, her voice left no room for discussion.

"I want a role in the hotel."

Then she looked straight at me, reading the hesitation on my face.

"What about med school?" I asked.

"I'll do both—of course," Maya replied confidently. "I'm doing it for myself," she added. "I've been thinking about it for a while, and now I'm ready."

Her firm touch around my hand left no doubt about her conviction.

Victor exhaled deeply as we both looked at him, trying to read what he was thinking.

"Will you give me a role?" Maya asked impulsively, breaking the silence.

"If that's what you want," Victor said, his voice tinged with a bit of pride—and a trace of fear. "Then I'll give you a role."

Maya stood up, amusement on her face. "So, when do I start? And what's my role?" she asked.

Victor studied her for a moment, then stood. "You'll start today, Maya. If that's okay."

Maya raised a brow but didn't flinch. "Perfect. Let's not waste time."

"And as for your role, I'll define it," he added.

She frowned. "I'm not going to be the receptionist. No offense, but that's not me."

"No, clearly," her father replied.

Maya draped her arm over my shoulder as we walked toward the door, a satisfied smirk on her face.

"Thank you, Victor," I said, glancing at Maya and giving her a small nudge.

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, thanks, dad."

As we walked down the hallway, she gave me that look—subtle, smug, confident. Then she leaned in and pressed a lingering kiss to my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

"Did you get what you wanted?" I asked.

"You know I always get what I want," she replied.

Her determination freaks me out sometimes.

It's impressive. Terrifying. Kind of hot, too.

"You really mean it, don't you?" I asked, a teasing edge in my voice.

Maya tilted her head, chuckling. "Of course I do. I'll handle it—I always find time for the things I love, starting with you, baby."

A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. Of course she'd say that. Unstressed, unbothered, like the world just bent to her will.

I'm starting to think it does.

Back in her room, Maya started on her makeup—sharp lines, bold lips, not a single flaw in sight. Then she tied her hair into a perfect, neat ponytail. She crossed to the closet, pulled out a black suit—sleek, tailored, powerful. And those insane Louboutins.

I couldn't stop thinking about... hot scenarios with her dressed like this.

Maya caught me watching her, her eyes slowly trailing over me.

"You're staring," she said, raising a brow.

"You're so hot," I said, deadpan.

She smirked. "Save that line for later, when my father's lecturing me about responsibility."

I pressed a long, deep kiss to her lips. "Don't worry, boss lady. You've got this. Like always."

"I'll see you later?" she murmured, holding the kiss just a moment longer.

"Can't wait until then," I whispered.

~

Today felt calm at the museum. Peacefully calm.

My coworker Martha was talking about random stuff. She was pretty much the only person here my age—not forty or older—so we got along. Nothing deep, just easy and friendly.

My shift was almost over, and I kept thinking about Maya, wondering how she was doing.

Then, our supervisor suddenly appeared—steady gaze, composed expression. She glanced at us and said she needed to talk.

That had never happened before, which made me a little nervous.

She led us into a private room and started talking—

"Recruiters from a New York museum will be coming here to evaluate candidates for an important role—including you two," she said, wasting no time. "Only two will be selected, and those chosen can go to New York to work on actual artwork and exhibits."

I blinked and my heart raced. This was literally my dream job. The role I always aspired to.

And shit—it was about New York.

My thoughts were already spiraling with scenarios, but I pushed them aside, reminding myself it was just a long shot—nothing more.

"Grace, holy crap, that's huge," Martha said, nudging my shoulder as we headed out.

"It is," I murmured, still trying to process it as I grabbed my bag and headed for the exit.

"Want to grab something to eat at the café? We should celebrate," Martha suggested, pointing to the one across the street.

"Uhm, sure," I said, smiling as I followed her lead.

I grabbed my phone and immediately texted Maya:

Are you done bossing everyone around yet?

Her reply came quickly: I might need a personal assistant... interested?

I smirked to myself as I settled across from Martha at this cute outdoor café.

I texted Maya back: Think you can handle me, boss?

A subtle smile tugged at my face as I scrolled through the menu while Martha kept talking about New York.

I was more focused on something else...

My phone lit up with a text from Maya:

I handle pressure, chaos, and million-dollar deals. Think I can survive you just fine.

I almost choked on that.

Then, another text popped up:

I'm free now. Where are you?

I kept it casual, not wanting to make a big deal, and typed:

I'm just having coffee with my coworker. Want to come?

Maya's reply was immediate:

The address.

I bit my lip, trying not to grin too obviously. After texting Maya what she requested, I set my phone down and smiled at Martha. "My girlfriend's coming. I hope that's not a problem..."

Martha blinked quickly, a little surprised, then nodded. "Of course not. I'm excited to meet her."

I'd mentioned Maya a few times, but I guess Martha hadn't really considered it until now.

She ordered a slice of cheesecake, and I went for a strawberry smoothie.

We were casually chatting—our orders hadn't even arrived when I heard it.

That sound.

The unmistakable, smooth click of heels against the floor.

I didn't even have to look up to know Maya was here.

Still, when I did, I felt the same thrill I always did.

Whatever we were talking about suddenly didn't matter. Nothing else seemed half as interesting—because Maya Russell was on her way.

Her dark hair fell straight over her shoulders, no longer in a ponytail. Her bold red lips curled into a smirk as she locked eyes with me.

She gave Martha a polite but cool once-over before offering her hand. "Maya Russell."

Martha's eyes flicked briefly toward me before saying, "Nice to meet you, I'm Martha."

Maya hummed, like she was already bored with the introduction, then leaned in, her lips capturing mine before I could even react.

Slow. Lingering.

My pulse raced in response, and I couldn't help but feel embarrassed at how easily she could make me react.

Then, she slid into the seat next to me, her hand on my waist, fingers curling over my hip—casual, yet entirely deliberate.

I could tell what was happening. She was making a point. To Martha. To me. To anyone paying attention.

This is mine.

Martha, to her credit, played it cool. "Would you like to order something? We've already placed ours."

Maya's eyes flicked to me, then back to Martha, before settling on a waiter who practically rushed over as soon as she raised her hand.

"Black coffee, large cup."

I had no doubt.

"So, Maya, what do you do?" Martha asked, lifting an eyebrow as she eyed Maya's outfit.

Maya leaned back, relaxing against me. "A bit of everything, really, Martha."

My coworker tilted her head, like she was trying to figure out whether she was joking or being serious.

"She means she's studying to get into medical school and... works in her hotel business," I explained with a polite smile.

"Oh..." Martha murmured with a small frown. "That sounds... like a lot."

Maya stared at her, then glanced at me, squeezing my waist. "Actually, I always find time for what I want—that's why I'm here."

Her words were calculated, with a subtle passive-aggressive tone behind them.

Martha's lips twitched into a small smile, and before things could get any more awkward, our orders finally arrived.

The cheesecake looked good, my strawberry smoothie was tasty, and Maya's coffee looked... black enough.

"Want a piece, Grace?" Martha offered gently, tapping her spoon on her cheesecake.

I hesitated, then shook my head. "No, but thanks," I said quietly.

Maya tightened her grip on my waist and exhaled, watching me attentively. "Do you want to order one?" she asked, making sure Martha heard.

"No," I smiled.

Maya hummed, then glanced at my glass. "Can I have a bit of your smoothie, baby?"

"Of course, go ahead," I said, moving the straw toward her lips.

Maya took a slow sip, barely tasting it. Her chin lifted, eyes flicking toward Martha, a faint eyebrow raise slicing through the air.

"Delicious," she just had to say, shifting the glass back toward me.

Martha's smile stayed in place, but there was a faint edge, a little lift, that showed she wasn't really impressed.

I tried to keep things light for a while, keeping the conversation casual—until Martha glanced at her phone and said, "I have to go now."

I have to admit that I was slightly relieved.

Maya gave her a sweet—too sweet—smile. "Oh, don't rush on my account."

I pinched her thigh, but she didn't flinch.

"Oh, really," Martha said sarcastically, her laugh tight. "It was... nice meeting you. Grace, see you on Monday, then?"

I nodded. "See you at work."

Martha gave a small wave before grabbing her purse and heading out. I turned to Maya with a glare, but she just hummed innocently.

"Monday's gonna be the highlight of her week, huh?"

"She was being polite," I replied calmly.

Maya leaned in just enough for me to feel her warm breath against my ear.

"You didn't tell me your coworker was that sharp," she murmured.

"You were so obvious, she didn't need much to catch on," I said.

Maya smirked, drumming her fingers on my waist. "What do you expect when you tell me you're having a coffee with some girl?"

I groaned. "Not some girl, Maya. Just my coworker. We literally talk about nails."

Maya laughed, but there was a dangerous edge. "Nails? Oh, that explains the deep bond."

I stared at her, unimpressed, shaking my head as I took the last sip of my smoothie. Maya kept watching me closely, her brows slightly furrowed.

"Asking if you wanted a piece of her cheesecake was unnecessary," she said.

"I didn't want her cheesecake," I said, satisfied, meeting her gaze.

Maya's lips pressed into an amused line as she leaned closer, her fingers playing with the hem of my shirt. "At least I made myself clear—so she wouldn't miss it."

I hummed in response, understanding exactly what she meant. It wasn't just playful words—it was her claiming her role.

"Let's go home," Maya said, raising her hand to call the waiter to pay.

Can't wait to drop her the news about New York... yeah, this is going to be fun—less fun for Martha probably...