Maverick stomped his feet as he stormed down the hallway, his only thought to get as far away from Julius as possible.
But where could he go? Inside the manor, and every corner of it felt suffocating. In the end, his restless steps carried him to the glasshouse.
Inside, the air was damp with the scent of greenery. Maverick stood among the plants, one hand braced on his waist while the other covered his face. His voice broke into a ragged whisper.
"Why the hell can't he just tell the truth?"
He dragged in a sharp breath, his frustration spilling out.
"He has to push me until I say something stupid."
The words had barely left his mouth when he felt it—a pair of hands sliding around his waist, pulling him back into a broad chest.
Maverick froze, a jolt running through him. His hand dropped from his face, eyes widening as he half-turned, stunned.
When did he…?
