Mr.Right

Chapter 20.

One sentence.

Four words.

Ten letters that can make your heart drop into your stomach.

We need to talk.

But it's coming from a person I hardly even know and I don't know why my legs have suddenly turned

to jelly. I didn't even do anything wrong.

"I don't know you," I say.

"Wrong answer." She sneers at me. "Now let's try that again. We need to talk."

I sigh and decide to just get this over with. "Fine. What's your name?"

She looks a little bit surprised at this, but she brushes it off and puts on a smug look. "Elise

Montgomery. Daughter of Phil Montgomery, the founder of the Acquia company. Only child of Felicity

Montgomery, a shareholder of the World Bank. Great granddaughter of King Festus III."

I notice a faint England tint to her voice for the first time. I have a feeling she already knows who I am,

so I just get straight to the point. "What do you want?"

"I want you to stop bothering me," Elise Montgomery says curtly. "Leave Maverick alone. He's going to

hate you sooner or later, anyway. The only reason he let you in his house is because he doesn't know

who you are."

"And you know who I am?" I ask and she smirks.

"You're April White, the reporter who once worked for my Dad's opposing company."

I brush away the droplets of snow that are falling onto my shoulders and let out a breath. "What has

this got to do with Maverick hating me?"

"How can you be so clueless?" she scoffs sticking her nose in the air. "Back off while you've got the

chance. The both of you'll only end up getting hurt. I'm trying to tell Maverick I'm the only one for him,

but he wouldn't listen. And now he has you in his house."

She makes it sound like I'm some sort of plague, like I'm something dirty on the bottom of her shoe. It

completely tears down the wall of happiness that I've been trying to build up.

"Just leave him alone. Don't let yourself burden him." Elise flips her hair with her perfectly manicured

hand and looks at me one last time. "Oh, and don't tell Maverick about this. If anyone asks, we never

had this conversation and I never even met you," With that, she bumps into me on purpose and walks

off in the opposite direction.

I'm left standing alone, grateful only of the fact that she didn't see me cry.

My life's a joke.

I can't believe I thought everything would be all right. Everything is never going to be all right.

I'm not doing this thing anymore. I know I shouldn't believe the words of a jealous ex-girlfriend, but I

can't do it anymore. I can't risk people getting hurt.

I'm giving up.

I take little steps as I trudge along the sidewalk but, before I know it, I'm running along the city's streets,

letting out huge sobs.

I'm getting stares from people as I bump into them while crying, but their opinions are the last thing I

give a fuck about right now.

Maverick told me to transfer my anger into doing something physical, like punching a bag but, right

now, there's no punch bag with me. The only thing I can think of to hit is already far behind me,

swinging her red hair as she prances along, probably mentally high-fiving herself for getting to me so

easily.

With nothing to take my anger out on, I run harder and faster, all the way down to the penthouse.

In what seems like minutes, the house comes into view and I stop in front of the gate to catch my

breath. A few more tears slip from my eyes.

"Are you crying?"

I jump from the sound of the voice and whip my head around to see Maverick standing in front of me,

with his car parked on the other side of the road.

"You're supposed to be at the hospital," I say, scrubbing furiously at my tears.

"And you're supposed to be happy. What the hell happened to you? Why are you crying?"

"I can't do it anymore," I blurt out. "I was wrong to think I could change. People can't change. It's

impossible. I'm sorry I asked for your help and... and... I'm sorry for being a faliure."

The next thing I know, his arms are around me in a hug and my forehead is pressed to his chest.

"I want to do it," says maverick softly. "This isn't about you anymore."

I feel his ribcage rise up and down against my forehead.

"Somehow, you dragged me into all of this, April, and now I want to continue. There's so much behind

those thick-rimmed glass of yours and I want to discover what it is. Like a jigsaw puzzle, I'm going to

piece you back together to reveal beautiful artwork and you're going to help me with just that. Just hold

on a little while longer; we're going to make them pay."

My lungs feel like they're about to burst. Maybe it's because of all the crying, but I just want to stay like

this for a while, hugging tightly like the closest of soulmates.

And we do.

~~~~~~~

Ten minutes later, we're both in the living room with a freshly brewed cup of coffee and an empty jar.

I don't know what the jar is for. Maverick came out of the attic with it after brewing me the coffee and

now he's just sitting there, not saying anything.

I watch the steam of the coffee ascend in spirals from the cup before he finally speaks.

"She met with you," It's more of a statement than a question.

My head shoots up, looking at him with wide eyes. "No!" I shook my head a little bit too vigorously.

"How come you know who I'm talking about?" Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

Ok, I walked right into that one. Well done, April.

"You see that jar over there?" He points to the transparent jar between us and I nod. "It's called the

negativity jar. Any time you say something negative about yourself, you put one coin in there."

I blink. "But I don't have money."

Maverick shrugs. "That's your problem, not mine. So you'd better watch the things you say about

yourself, or you just might end up filling up that jar within a week."

I sigh in defeat and drop my head. I just made things worse.

Throughout the entire week, Maverick and I spend majority of our time upstairs at the gym. We proceed

from the treadmill run in just a day to fifteen sit-ups, five crunches, five leg raises and a ten-second

plank.

I oversleep the next morning from tiredness and he blows a whistle in my face which sends me

tumbling from my bed to the floor.

Day five includes thirty sit-ups, twelve crunches, twelve leg raises and a twenty-second plank.

I'm sitting on the gym's floor after day six's gym class, sweating my ass off, when I feel the coldness of

a liquid being poured over my head.

"It'll help cool off. You'll get a migraine otherwise. You overworked yourself today," Maverick tells me as

he screws the lid back onto the bottle and grabs a towel. "Don't be too hard on yourself. You're

supposed to climb those mountains, not carry them. The best thing you can do for yourself right now is

grow into a better person."

He squats in front of me and tries to dry my hair. "Let go of the attachment but keep the lessons it

taught you. Take the time to make your soul happy."

"But what if I can't let them go?"

Maverick tuts at me. "You're putting a coin in the negativity jar when we go down." He grins but I know

he means it. "You don't even know how amazing you are."

My eyes raise to look at his and I see him gazing down at me. The heat of his gaze burns my cheek,

turning them slightly red.

He leaves the towel on my head, making it cover half my face and stopping right above my lips. I feel

his thumb caress the skin right next to them as my heart beats violently against my ribcage.

I can't see anything because of the towel draping over my face but I know he's close. I can feel his

breath warming my face.

Before I can decipher what's happening next, however, the ringing of his cell phone fills the room.

I don't think I've ever been madder at a cell phone.

The towel falls from my face and I get to my feet, watching Maverick talk to the person on the other end

of the line.

Maybe this is fate. Maybe this whole thing is supposed to be happening in my life right now. I don't

know.

But whatever it is, I'm happier now. I catch myself smiling often these days and I'm kind of getting used

to the 'no- ice-cream-rule'.

Maverick ends the call and glances in my direction, catching me smiling at him. "What?" He asks.

"Nothing," I say. "I'm just glad I met you."

Then I turn on my heels to leave.