Chapter Text
The sun shone through the slit of the curtains, flooding the Verstappen Estate with light. Morning had finally come after the rather engaging night the Duke had spent in bed. Servants had begun prepping the house for him to begin his day. Not unknown to the workers of House Verstappen, Max was occupied in his chambers.
Max woke up to a soft hand slipping down his chest, rousing him from his slumber. He exhaled deeply when he felt her touch on where he wanted it the most. His mistress palmed him through his breeches and Max let out a pleasured grumble.
Opening his eyes, he was met with the sight of her brown hair, face tucked against his bare neck, kissing and nipping at the skin there.
“Kelly,” Max groaned, eyes going half-lidded. He bucked his hip against her touch, longing for more, but desperately holding himself back from flipping their positions, “We s-should not. The sun has come out.”
Kelly took her time pulling back from Max. Her blue eyes traced the marks on his chest, then towards his neck, and finally to his eyes. Their gazes met. Max’s breathing was still slightly laboured. She looked down at him, like a predator sizing up her prey, ready to strike. But Max sat up before she could think of doing anything else.
Grunting, Max sighed, “Our agreement states you leave at sunrise,” He threw a hand towards the covered windows, a ray of light seeping through a gap, “The sun has risen.”
“Has it really?” Kelly smiled, crawling closer towards Max, “Our rules are our own, Max. We could continue for however long we would like,” She sat up from where she was on her stomach, revealing her bare body. Her hand found a place on Max’s pec and progressed down with a feather-light touch. She leaned forwards, mouth grazing his ear, “I know you want to.” Her breath was warm and Max had to hold back a shudder.
Max closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them, the Max from the affair was gone, replaced with Duke Alpha Verstappen. His eyes sharpened and he grabbed her hand, halting its course down his body, “I think you will find that you do not want to break the rules of our agreement. Else, I shall make sure that I never see you again, Miss Piquet.”
Kelly’s smile dropped. She retracted her hand as if she had burnt herself on a cup of hot tea. As Max shifted to get up from bed, Kelly kept still on her side of the bed.
“Very well then, Your Grace.”
Moving quickly, Max took hurried steps towards his desk chair to grab his robe, wanting to cover his naked form from her view. After slipping on his robe, Max turned around. He found that Kelly had not moved from her spot and was, in fact, watching his every move.
Max crossed his arms, chin high, “I do hope you are not waiting for my command to have you removed from my property.”
Kelly laughed, “Of course not, Max. I’m well aware you would like for me to take my leave as soon as possible.”
“If you have the ability to read my exact thoughts, then why have you not?” He raised a brow, hands locking behind him. Though he had a feeling he already knew what words were about to leave her lips. Or rather, what request, a demand. And they are ones he had rejected time and time again.
Kelly stayed put for a few seconds, only staring at him with a lustful gaze. She slowly stood up, ensuring she was giving Max a show of herself and her beauty. But his eyes never left her face, an unamused expression locking itself on his own. She dragged the blanket with her, draped over her shoulders to mimic a fur shawl. The blanket was pulled across the floor, following in Kelly’s shadow as she approached Max, never breaking eye contact.
Once she found herself face-to-face with Max, her eyes kept flicking from his eyes to his lips. A back and forth, like watching a duel. She bit her lip, a suggestive move to try and catch Max off-guard. A mousetrap being set in real time. But there was one problem with her trap. It was meant for a mouse, a weak man. Max Verstappen was anything but a weak man. He was a powerful Duke. Max had not earned the nickname of the Dutch Lion for no reason.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, gripping his shoulders. Kelly pulled him closer, a small distance between their lips. She tilted her head to aim a kiss to his ear, breathy and lingering on purpose. Perhaps, if this were last night or a few minutes ago, Max would have fallen for the alluring touches.
But Max during his affair and Duke Verstappen were two different personalities.
Kelly exhaled on his cheek, “Marry me, Alpha Verstappen.” Then she began her rampage of kisses on his cheek towards his jawline.
And there it was. The proposal yet again. After years of his affair with Kelly, he had received a tremendous number of proposals from her that he had lost count after the first few meetings in bed. Sometimes, she even tried to ask him in bed, knowing he was more perceptive then. A sly trick by a sly fox. But a lion would never fall for the tricks of a fox. Max was not mere prey.
Seeing as he had not responded, Kelly raised a hand to grab Max’s chin. She turned his head to face her and she leaned forwards, lips millimeters away from his. Max pulled away fast.
Getting intimate, Max agreed to. Touching, Max allowed. Sex, Max was able to perform.
But the most established rule from their agreement that Max had implemented and emphasized from the beginning; absolutely no kissing on the lips allowed.
It was too personal and too intimate in a way that Max could not grasp. Maybe, it would sound ridiculous that he could handle having sex, but not kissing someone on the lips. However, Max just was like that. He could not change it. And he would rather not risk attachment via locking lips if that was what he must do to avoid falling for someone.
Slipping from her grasp, Max readjusted his stance next to where he had stood in Kelly’s hold a few seconds ago, straightening his back and clearing his throat. Kelly just smirked, eyes narrowing like a hawk. She knew she had gotten under his skin.
“You should know by now that I have no intentions of marrying, Kelly. Not to you. Not to anyone.”
“Perhaps I believe I can change that.”
Max barked out a laugh, “Miss Piquet… I admire your boldness,” This time, he was the one who took a step closer, looking down at Kelly, “But there is not a single soul on this Earth that could change my mind. I will never be a husband to anyone. And I will never take an Omega to be my partner because I am not someone who wishes to ever have one. I am certainly not someone you should be hoping to marry, Kelly.”
Kelly stayed silent. Her face had fallen into a blank stare as Max spoke. She broke eye contact. Max’s stare was too intense, full of truth and hidden emotions that Max knew Kelly had hoped would change after years of mutually benefitting each other in secret. She had never wanted nor expected Max to fall in love, or even be attracted beyond their affair, but she wanted an easy partner. And Max had the status to back it up. That much, Max figured out quickly.
“Max—”
“If you stay and try to convince me for any longer,” Max cut her off before she could try and spew some bullshit at him, “You will find yourself sorely disappointed for years. No matter how many proposals, how many years you try… I will not marry you, Kelly. It isn’t personal. It has just been my decision for as long as I’ve known.”
What Max said was true. Every single word was true. Maybe his life had never been definite. Maybe he never had anything stable or trusted. But if Max could promise one thing to himself, it was to never marry. To let the Verstappen line die with him.
A few minutes passed with Max towering over Kelly as she stared at the floor they stood above. It seemed like she was deep in thought, processing his words. Only now did it occur to Max that he had never really said any of his thoughts and wishes out loud. They were only buried inside his head as he denied her requests to wed.
Then Kelly stepped away. Max stayed where he was, staring at the spot where her face was. He heard rustling behind him; the blanket being thrown back on the bed, her corset and dress being slipped onto her figure. Taking a deep breath, Max shut his eyes. Maybe he should not have been that harsh. Or maybe he should have told her earlier on in their affair.
When Max opened his eyes and turned to face Kelly, she was dressed and ready to leave. She approached him with her purse in hand. She curtsied, bowing in respect to his title. That confused Max. In the past 7 years they had been seeing each other, Kelly had never bowed to him as a greeting nor goodbye. So, why would she begin now—?
“I believe this is farewell, Your Grace.”
Baffled, Max raised a brow, “Whatever do you mean by farewell? We have never addressed—”
Kelly did not let him finish, “What I mean is that we shall not be seeing each other again after this.”
“What?” Max scoffed, “Of course, we will. Kelly, our next rendezvous is in 2 days.”
“I believe it is Miss Piquet to you. And no, Your Grace,” Kelly said, “I have been your mistress for over the past half a decade. I have enjoyed myself and so have you. But I believe our deal has reached its end.”
He crossed his arms, “I do not remember the agreement stating we could simply cease our activities.”
“Well, it never said we could not. And now, I am choosing to step away from this.”
“Kelly—”
“It is Miss Piquet. Max…” Kelly paused before continuing, “In the past, I have told you that I was once married.”
“To Sir Kyvat, yes. I am aware. And it does not bother me because I am not looking for a wife in you. Or in anyone, in fact, as I have made it clear a few minutes ago.”
“You may not be looking for a partner, but I have been a widow for almost 9 years. I am looking to find a new husband who may provide for me because the man I married a decade ago had no status nor worth to be passed onto me after death. I became your mistress, despite being an eligible lady in society, so that I may be provided for by you. And you have provided plenty.”
“Exactly. I have provided all you need to live. So I do not understand. Why would you leave now?”
Kelly sighed, “I am simply in need of more than you are capable of giving, Your Grace. I apologize. But if you can only see us as Duke and Mistress in the next fifteen years and more, then I cannot forever play the role you seek.”
“Have you not been enjoying yourself with me?”
“Your Grace, you are not listening to me. I want a husband. I want to be a wife again, not a mistress.”
Max exhaled, dragging a hand down his face in exasperation, “I am not seeking a wife, Miss Piquet.”
She nodded in understanding, “I know. Which is why I am now leaving this relationship. It is not for you, it is to spare myself.”
Kelly did not sound upset nor sad about wanting to leave their beneficial relationship. Just sure of her decision and unbothered. In truth, that itself bothered Max.
“You may not go!” Max yelled as Kelly started towards his door.
“I may. I do not need your permission to choose to find a man who will marry me.”
“Kelly!” Max lunged and grabbed her wrist. Not hard, but firm enough that she would not be able to escape, “I need this arrangement. You cannot leave.”
Kelly only turned her head to give Max a firm stare, “Let go.” She did not acknowledge what he had said.
“Did you even listen to what I said?”
“Your Grace, I am calmly asking you to let go of my hand so that I may leave your mansion.”
“And I am asking you to not leave!”
“Why are you getting so worked up about this?”
“Because you are leaving.”
“I have the right to.”
“Not after all you’ve done to me!”
She frowned, “I have done nothing aside from the duties of a mistress.”
“What about when you told me about our first magical night together? I did not even remember it. I was intoxicated. You told me you enjoyed me so much that you were content with only being my mistress if I so wished.”
Max had been 17 when he met Kelly. She was a year old widow of Sir Kyvat, and a dowager noblewoman 11 years older than him. All Max remembered was being on the dance floor of a ball hosted by an Omega, who was an associate of Kelly, after having been served one too many drinks. He blacked out a few hours into the ball and woke up in his bed with a woman, and they were both naked. That woman was Kelly.
Kelly sighed, “I have changed my mind,” She said easily, tilting her head towards her hand still in his grasp, “Now, let go.”
Speechless, Max slowly loosened his grip on her wrist. He did not know what else to say about that. Sure, Max was never in love nor interested in marrying Kelly, but she had been a constant in the years he had been living alone — working alone — as a young Duke. To suddenly have her cut him off, and to never see her or meet with her again felt like a part of him was being taken away. Perhaps Max had grown accustomed to Kelly’s presence and impact in his life. Healthy or not, if it were his choice, he would keep their arrangement going. He would not want to get rid of it.
But Max just watched as Kelly readjusted her dress cuffs and walked out the door.
Max did not like how watching her leave felt like heartbreak, except without the romantic feelings typically involved.
The door slammed shut in his face. Usually, Max would have shouted about the disrespect. However, he found he did not care about his title in the slightest. All he wanted to do now was forget about Kelly.
A knock startled him. For a split second, Max let himself hope it was Kelly. But it would not make sense.
“Enter.” Max said.
It was his butler. Of course. Why would it be anyone else?
“Sir, you must get ready. The carriage is ready to escort you to Alpha Ricciardo’s.”
Right. Max had planned to meet with Daniel.
“Of course. I will be down at once.”
His butler bowed and closed the door.
Rushing hooves disrupted the calm morning air and pounded on the ground in heavy quakes, splashing the collected dew on the grass all over the place. The horse galloped through the valley, quick and strong in its strides across the field.
Oscar leaned close over Basil’s neck, holding the reins steady as he steered his horse through the grass. He kept him at an average speed, not quick, but powerful.
A laugh echoed from behind Oscar, making him straighten and turn his head to look. It was Marquess Webber, who was now on his way to passing Oscar, on Tams.
“Come now, Oscar. I thought you were a master of riding horses.”
Mark zoomed past him, and Oscar felt the rush of wind that trailed the Marquess and his horse. Scoffing, Oscar pressed his heels to Basil’s flank and the horse surged forward, quickly catching up to Tams and Mark.
It was not that Tams or Basil were faster than the other. No, Oscar had trained both to be just as quick as the other, nearly equal in speed and strength. But the person who was riding affected almost every aspect of the horse’s performance.
And Mark was right. Oscar was indeed a master on the saddle of any horse he rode.
Oscar glanced down and watched as the earth rushed past him. He smiled. Horse riding had always been his favorite pastime. The violence of the wind against his face, the morning mist — because he preferred riding when the sun rose — clinging to the air, and the rush of the grass beneath him. It was like flying to him. It was freedom.
In absolutely no time at all, Oscar was caught up to Mark.
Mark was tense in his saddle, hands tight on the reins, constantly shifting where he sat. The Marquess was not known to be good at horse riding. But he had wanted to leisure with Oscar that morning before he would soon leave on an errand outside of England. That would be months before they would see each other again. Admittedly, Oscar was quite upset that he would be separated from the Marquess until approximately the end of this Season. However, it was out of his hands.
Clearing his throat, Oscar gained Mark’s attention. Oscar looked smug as he found himself already beside Mark again, easing Basil to the speed the Marquess rode at, “Apologies, what did you say about my riding skills again?”
Mark let out a heavy breath, shoulders stiff, and he smiled something deranged and proud, “Hah! That’s my boy!”
Smirking, Oscar bit his lip and focused back on the clearing ahead. He adjusted his hold on Basil’s reins and shifted his weight. Basil understood and easily shot past Tams, the latter horse letting out an exasperated snort.
“Sorry, Tams!”
Oscar shot a swift, apologetic glance back at the chestnut horse. He had not wanted to choose between his two babies, so he had let Mark choose which horse he wanted to ride. Tams, unfortunately, was who Mark picked. Clearly, the horse wished he had been ridden by Oscar instead. The difference in speed was felt by both horse and rider. And the better the rider, the better the experience was for the horse too.
Feeling devious, Oscar looked back at Mark as he rode, shouting over the rush of wind, “Is it still a race if it is obvious who the winner will be?!”
“That is disrespectful, son!”
The young Alpha Piastri laughed, “I apologize, my Lord! But I think I have won our little race!”
“We have yet to make it to the treeline, Oscar! We shall see who the winner will be!”
Oscar pulled on the reins, settling Basil from his previous run, “I shall give you a head start then, my Lord,” He said as Mark closed the gap between them due to Oscar slowing down, “First to the treeline shall be named the victor of this morning's race. A mile down the way. It should not be too difficult for a mediocre rider.”
Mark chuckled, “Do not underestimate me, Oscar. I can be dangerous when I want to be.”
Oscar did not reply. He simply held a hand up towards the open field, “The stage is yours. You may have your head start—”
But Mark did not wait for him to finish his sentence. In one quick movement, Mark surged forward, turning a trot into a gallop. Oscar was quite obviously startled by the Marquess’s sudden speed, but once he recovered, he let out a sharp laugh and sped up too.
The white horse tossed his head back, keeping the wind from blowing his mane into his face. Oscar laughed, “Come on, Basil! Faster!”
Oscar felt every ripple of muscle on Basil’s lean coat. They soared as if they were flying through the clouds in the skies. Oscar loved this part of riding, like he was defying what it meant to be a human in the first place, like he was more than the surname and house he was born into. He felt like a kid again. Like the first time his dad taught him how to mount a horse and he fell off once the horse began walking. He remembered his dad catching him as he fell. I’ve got you, Osc.
Ahead, Marquess Webber glanced back at Oscar who was right on his tail despite his ten second lead. The hooves of the two horses combined thundered across the early, empty land. Oscar was the faster of the two. He rode right behind Mark and Tams, taking advantage of the slipstream Mark conveniently left for him. Oscar stayed on Mark’s flank for the last stretch of the race, not bothering to overtake the older man. He waited for the perfect moment to strike.
The treeline appeared in their view, and it grew larger and larger as their horses approached at top speed. Then, Oscar saw the opening. Training from a young age kicked in. Oscar heard his dad’s voice in his head, telling him the exact moment to steer Basil to the side of Mark. Now! The slipstream had helped Basil conserve his energy for the overtake. In that final stretch of land, Basil surged forward.
For a few seconds, Basil and Tams were neck and neck. Mark saw the sudden gain in speed that Oscar got and tried to steer Tams left to block Basil’s path, but Oscar had expected the move. In a split second decision, Oscar took a hard right. Tams had lost momentum when trying to defend the position, and Oscar benefitted from Mark’s lack of understanding in horse riding. Gathering the reins and leaning lower against Basil’s head, he flew past Mark.
Marvelous work, Osc! That was the ride of the century, son.
Turning before the trees flooded his vision, Oscar gently pulled on Basil’s reins, easing the white horse into a canter back towards the way they came. Mark reached them a few moments after, settling Tams from the hard run as he approached Oscar and Basil. The steady rhythm of Tams and Basil’s hooves helped Oscar simmer down from the adrenaline of their race.
Oscar exhaled heavily, reaching an arm up to wipe the sweat from his brows. Mark had a massive grin on his face, breathing heavily from the strain of the ride. The two horses' breathing gradually slowed as well. Oscar stroked Basil’s mane affectionately, thanking him for the strong run.
“That was impeccable, son. I never stood a chance.” Mark said.
Oscar shrugged, “My father taught me well.”
“That, he did,” Mark guided Tams closer to Oscar, “Chris had always been an exceptional rider.”
“Indeed he was…”
Letting go of the reins, Oscar dismounted Basil in one smooth move. He rolled his shoulders back, loosening any tightness left over in his muscles. Oscar grabbed the hem of his shirt and pulled it over his head before ruffling his hair out to unflatten it from the sweat. The Marquess did the same beside him.
With one hand, Oscar held Basil’s reins to guide him down to sit, and the other hand reached for the saddle bag. He pulled out a flask to hydrate himself, swallowing half of its content, and a dry rag. Once he had quenched his thirst, he placed it back inside the bag before sitting down against Basil’s flank, patting the sweat off of his bare neck and upper body.
When Oscar looked back up at the standing Marquess, he was met with a silent look. He raised a brow, “Is there something on my face?”
Marquess Webber had his rag slung over his shoulder, arms crossed over his chest. For a few seconds, he did not grace Oscar with a response. Instead, he came forward and pulled Oscar up, earning a small bloody hell as the younger Alpha stumbled. Mark put an arm around Oscar’s shoulders and watched as the sun rose.
Oscar followed Mark’s gaze and squinted against the sunlight harassing his eyesight. They both spent a good amount of time staring at the rising ball of fire in the horizon. But just as Oscar was about to speak, Mark beat him to it.
“The sun—”
“How do you feel about joining tonight’s ball, Oscar?”
What the actual fuck?
With the speed that Oscar spun, Mark worried that Oscar might have snapped his neck. Oscar turned his head to look at Mark with one can only describe as a stare full of disbelief. He choked out a laugh. The Marquess had to be joking, right?
“You surely jest, my Lord.”
Mark smiled, still not looking at Oscar, “I jest about many things, son. But not this time.”
Oscar opened his mouth to reply, but found himself too stunned to speak. He just stood there, in Mark’s hold, like a fish out of water.
“I— But, why—? I don’t—” Oscar stuttered. He shook his head, as if resetting his brain, “I am not in search of a mate, Mark. There is no reason for me to join tonight’s — or any — ball for that matter.”
The Marquess sighed, “Son, I have my concerns for you regarding your marital status.”
“You do not have reason to. I do not concern myself with finding a mate.”
“You should. Perhaps not in the way an Omega is expected to marry, but for your own sake, Oscar.”
Oscar scoffed, “My own sake, Mark? Please, humor me. Why would I ever need to marry?”
Now, Mark looked at Oscar, “The matriarch of your family is a widow. The current Lady Piastri is a dowager.” He explained.
“And?” Oscar took a step back so that he could properly face Mark. He did not understand what the Marquess was trying to say, “My mother seems to be quite content with her status at the moment.”
“This is not about your mother, Oscar. It’s about you. Aside from finding a new Omega Piastri, I also want you to experience life.”
“You need not worry about me experiencing life. It is none of your concern what I do. But if you must know, I have been with someone before.”
Mark raised a brow, “Having one affair with an Omega seamstress does not secure a future.”
Oscar pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes, “No, but—”
“Hence, you should join this Season.”
“My Lord, I do not need a Season. My sisters do,” Oscar opened his eyes, “Hattie will be debuting next Season. I have my hands full.”
“This is exactly my point, Oscar. If you do not find a mate this Season, it may very well be another decade before you get the chance to join the list of eligible bachelors again.”
Oscar bit his lip, shoulders slouching, “I understand that.”
Mark rested a hand on Oscar’s shoulder, “I just want you to have someone by your side. To support you when you no longer have me or your sisters all the time.”
Glancing at Mark’s hand, Oscar sighed, “Lily and I understood each other.”
“Understood. In the past. How about now?”
Oscar shrugged, a bittersweet tone behind his smile, “I haven’t seen her in months.”
Mark gave a tight-lipped smile, “I’m sorry, son—”
“Don’t be. You aren’t wrong. It was never going to last long between us. It’s not a relationship society would accept anyway, despite my house’s lower rank,” Oscar said, “Lily was just proof that I should not dabble in serious relationships. They don’t end well.”
“I never said you have to fall in love, Oscar. You just have to be seen in society.” Oscar frowned as he stared at Mark. The Marquess took his silence as a cue to continue, “There are plenty of young Omegas who would fight to court a handsome young Alpha such as yourself. Your house may not look as intimidating as a Leclerc or a Wolff on the surface, but you have potential. You’re an intelligent young man.”
To be honest, Mark’s words were not intriguing to Oscar. In spite of everything Mark had said, Oscar still was not interested in joining the ball, which would inform every young Omega and their matriarchs that Oscar was available this Season. The thought of being surrounded by curious younger Omegas and overbearing matriarchs was overwhelming.
Rolling his eyes, Oscar replied, “What if I’m not interested in dense Omegas? I do not need a child in my home to take care of.”
“It would be your choice, son. You would choose which Omega attracts you. As an Alpha, you would set the standard for yourself because you would be the one proposing in the end.”
Right. Oscar thought, wide eyed. I would have to propose. Eventually, at least.
“Well?” Mark’s voice interrupted Oscar’s train of thought, “At the very least, think about joining tonight’s ball.”
A pause. Then Oscar let out an exasperated exhale, “I’ll consider it…”
Mark grinned and landed a proud, heavy pat on Oscar’s back, “Glad to hear it,” An oof escaped Oscar’s lips before he smiled back at the Marquess, “Remember, I’m saying this for you, Oscar. Asking you to join, I just want you to find a partner that makes you happy.”
“I’ll do my best to find a suitable mate, my Lord.”
They stayed in the meadow for a while longer, enjoying the sunrise from where they stood. By the time the sun was shining over them, they were already on their respective horses, shirts back on and ready to ride back to the Piastri Townhouse.
Oscar was ready to go, stance perfect, grip just right on the reins, when Mark interrupted. Having just remembered a detail about something.
“Ah, right. ‘Just remembered.”
“What did you remember?”
“The ball tonight. I just remembered that the invitation said masquerade.”
A masquerade ball? That was an interesting choice. Not many balls that Omegas hosted during the Seasons had unusual themes. Masquerades were rarely organized. Maybe once every three to five years.
“I thought it was worth a mention,” Mark said, “Perhaps you would be more interested in meeting new people if you may hide your identity from them. You would become more enticing and they would too.”
Oscar nodded, no conceivable expression on his face, “Sure. It would definitely… enliven the event.”
Enliven, indeed. Perhaps tonight would be the night that Oscar Piastri finally found himself at a social event. And perhaps tonight would be the night that Oscar finally found himself a match at said ball. And whatever happened tonight, there would be a chance that Oscar would not even know the face behind the mask of his dance partner. Or maybe, his dance partner would not even know who Oscar was, if he chose not to reveal himself.
“Whoa! Easy with the punches, Max!” Daniel yelled as he absorbed the uppercut sent to his jaw by the duke, recovering as if nothing had grazed him, “I have no desire to meet our maker, you know.”
Max scoffed with a crazed grin as they stepped in careful circles around each other, “Are you too fragile of a man to spar me properly, Danny?”
Daniel broke the stalemate as Max mocked him, opening with a right cross that Max easily blocked. However, it gave Daniel the opening he needed to send a kick straight into the duke’s waist that knocked him off balance. Max regained his footing in record speed and took a couple steps back to not give Daniel an advantage.
Daniel smirked, rolling his shoulders back, “Not bad for an Alpha who hasn’t been in town for months, huh?”
“Oh, please,” Max slowly inched closer, initiating the next few hits, “You insult my intelligence, Danny,” Another punch that found its target, “I am well aware that you haven’t just been wasting away in idleness during your travels,” Danny threw multiple rapid punches his way that Max had to fully concentrate to block, “Whoa! Nearly got me there, mate.”
“Whatever are you implying, Max?” Daniel exhaled with a smile, lunging and grabbing Max’s shoulders to knee him.
“Your letters weren’t exactly subtle,” Max responded by crouching out of the way, simultaneously attempting to trip Daniel, “Charmed many little omega ladies with your boxing performances abroad, haven’t you?”
Daniel barked out a laugh, “Max, Max, Max… Are you jealous that I am able to court any omega I want while you stay at home and sulk with your one and only mistress, dowager Piquet?”
The next hook that Danny threw hit Max square on the cheek without any difficulty from the defender. Daniel sent it with one of his attractive grins, the ones that he used to flirt with omegas. He thought nothing of it. If anything, he had expected Max to easily block it. A simple right hook. Max wouldn’t have let that simple of a move land on him any day. So, when the loud splat of skin on skin echoed in their training room, Daniel’s eyes went wide.
“Shit! Max!”
The duke was frozen where he stood, face thrown to the side. His arms lay limp at his hips. Max had not even attempted to block Daniel’s attack. The alpha guilty of hitting him had a hand at his shoulder, a means of comfort and apology.
Daniel had not been scared of hurting Max physically. The Duke Verstappen was built like a brick wall. Hard and impenetrable. No mediocre attack such as that would harm him. No. What scared Daniel was how Max had let himself get hit.
“Hey,” When Max did not respond, Daniel began to frown, “You alright, mate? That was unusual of you.”
Max finally looked back at Daniel, breathing heavily. His eyes were dark, looking as if he weren’t here with Daniel. But the Duke quickly nodded, face still neutral, “Yeah… Yeah, no problem at all, Danny. Just— Ahem— Caught me off guard, is all.”
Daniel looked unconvinced, “You sure? I apologize, Max. Really. I didn’t mean to—”
“It’s fine, mate! We were sparring. It happens. I am totally unharmed.”
“No, not that. I know you’re tough as fucking iron, mate, but what the hell? What happened to make you lose focus like that? You would never let me win so easily.”
“Nothing! Danny, I am perfectly fine. Don’t push it. I’m serious.” Max’s expression betrayed his own words, but Daniel knew his friend better than to push him any further than this. However, before Daniel could even utter another word, Max chimed in again, “In fact, I’m beginning to become quite weary of her.”
At first, Daniel’s brows furrowed in confusion. Her?
Then it hit him.
Weary of her, Max said.
Max fucking Verstappen said he was bored of Kelly fucking Piquet.
“You what?!”
That was the last thing Daniel would have thought of. It was unheard of.
“I am in search of a new mistress, Daniel. Must I repeat myself?”
Daniel had to take a second to come back to his senses. He let out a surprised breath, “No, you do not. What—? Max?! I never thought you would—”
Max shrugged, casually jumping out of the boxing ring as if he had not just shrugged off his mistress like she was nothing, which Daniel — as his closest friend — knew she meant a lot, “What can I say? I’ve changed. People can change,” He grabbed his towel and wiped the sweat off his forehead.
“Yeah,” Daniel breathed more than said, trailing behind Max, “People. You, Max Verstappen, are not just any people.”
“I’m very much a person too, Danny.”
Daniel huffed, “No ordinary person. You’ve been at it with the same omega for nearly a decade now. I would say it’s about time you have a change of scenery. I mean,” He dragged a hand through his sweat-soaked hair, “I’m at a loss for words, Max.”
Scenery, Daniel had said. That might have been an insult to Max. Although Kelly had never been — and never would be — the love of his life, what Max had felt for her might have been more dangerous. The duke had grown attached to her.
Perhaps that was just what happened when one spent their coming-of-age without proper guidance from a guardian. Considering his father never visited after the death of his mother, it was safe to assume that Max was on his own. It only made sense that he depended on Kelly to fill in that void. No matter how much of himself it cost. To his underdeveloped brain, she was the simplest solution to all his problems, sent right to his front door. Seven years might have passed since he had been that boy, but the man that Max Verstappen had grown into felt just as bare as he did then without Kelly as a shield.
“I wouldn’t usually offer,” Daniel started, snapping Max back to the boxing room, “But since you yourself said you wouldn’t mind trying something new…”
The smirk on Daniel’s face suggested that whatever was brewing in his head, it would not end well. Max glared at him, “Whatever comes out of your mouth, I know it will not be good, Danny.”
Max had turned to put his towel away, but Daniel grabbed his shoulders and spun him around with ease, “Mate, you have got to join the ball with me tonight.”
The fucking ball?
“You jest now, Daniel?”
“I surely do not, Your Grace. Just think about it!”
“Absolutely not.”
“You have got to! It’s the best chance to find yourself a new mistress.”
Oh, that was funny. Max scoffed, “Oh, yes. Surely an omega in search of a husband would be delighted to be my mistress instead. What a dream come true.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Daniel seemed determined.
“They don’t have to be nobility.”
“Then attending a ball is pointless.”
“An omega doesn’t have to be the reason you go, Max. It’s for fun.”
“Fun,” Max said the word as if it were a ridiculous concept, “Sure. I can have fun in my home as well, without the company of a bunch of snobs.”
Daniel sighed, “Come on, mate.”
“I’m not going, Daniel.”
“Why not?”
Max had begun to pack up his belongings in the middle of their conversation, “I already told you.”
“No, no. That was not a reason, that was you making fun of me,” Max rolled his eyes as Daniel continued, “Give me an actual reason, or you’ve got no choice but to attend with me.”
“You do not have the power to force me to join, Danny. Your threats remain empty.”
But then again, when Daniel Ricciardo had his mind set on something, nine out of ten times, he gets what he wants. And Daniel wanted Max to accompany him to the masquerade ball tonight.
“Come on, Max,” Daniel groaned, “I’ve been gone a while and we should spend time together while we still have it.” And damn did those words hit close to home for Max.
Max stopped in his tracks. Daniel had a point. Even if it was while they attended a stupid ball, at least he would be spending his time with his best friend, who often roamed across countries whenever he pleased. It would not be the worst thing to endure for Daniel.
Turning around, Max sighed, head falling in defeat, “Alright. I agree to attend tonight’s ball.”
“Wait, you’re serious?”
“Yes, Danny. I will go to the ball with you tonight.”
Mid-sentence, Max found himself with Daniel’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, pulled into a tight embrace, “You’ve got no clue how much this means to me!”
“Easy, mate,” Max could not pretend he did not enjoy his best friend’s hugs, “It’s necessary to have a functional body to bring myself to the event. Ease up a bit.”
If anything, Daniel hugged him even tighter. Max just chuckled as he returned the action. Even though Daniel was still disgustingly sweaty, having not wiped himself like Max had, Max could care less. It only mattered that the one person in the world that he really loved was here in his arms, alive to be held.