Maddening Max

Chapter 1: Reality Sets In

"A great marriage is not when the 'perfect couple' comes together. It is when an imperfect couple learns to enjoy their differences." — Dave Meur

(Unedited)

Angelik POV

The night before the wedding, I went with my parents and stayed the night with them at the penthouse suite of one of the PP's Hotels.

After my dad and uncle Stav decided we would get married the next day, Max agreed, but his face was stoic.

Before he resigned to his room, he looked at me like I betrayed him, hatred written all over his face.

I was angry.

No. I was livid.

My chest felt like it would burst from the intensity of that emotion broiling within me. I even wonder why I didn't have a heart attack. It's all the sign that I felt. It's hard to breathe. Like my throat was closing up.

The tears stung my eyes as I tried to hold them back, anger swirling in my gut.

I'm not going to cry over something that is not worthy of my tears, but I could feel that the wall of resistance is thinning and at its end.

Frustrations, disappointment, and almost regrets, and I'm not sure to whom I'm referring those unwanted feelings—my parents or Max.

Maybe both.

My eyes burning holes at my father's rigid back, pacing the spacious, luxurious receiving room, with a decor rivaling a castle's grand receiving room.

Anger radiated off his rigid spine, tension hovering around him as he occasionally let out a deep sigh, trying to hold his anger at bay.

And all my pleadings just go to deaf ears. But there's one thing I'm good at, not quitting.

I was often called persisten, and that I am!

"Dad, if you only open your mind," I tried again, turning my eyes at my mother, who had been beside me since we arrived, consoling me with hugs and softly cooing, it would be fine.

"Tell me, Angel," dad said, causing me to meet his icy glare. "It was just a kiss, right? If so, we all go back to Greece, and I'll try my damnation best to forget, wipe that picture of him, his hands all over my only daughter's body."

I stiffened.

I lost my tongue, and I looked away but his perusing eyes.

I swallowed hard.

I can't lie to them.

Mom's palm that had been rubbing my back soothingly in circles, froze. I could feel her eyes burning holes on my face in curiosity.

"Tell me, my daughter. Should a father just watch her daughter exploited by a man?" Dad ground out. His rich, deep tone was cold and forbidding.

The wall of resistance finally had broken. My tears sprung free.

"Dad, he didn't exploit me. I agreed!" I spat angrily, and I regretted it as soon as the words of admittance left my lips.

He was right.

No good father wants their child to be used up by someone, but Max, in my defense, didn't use me.

I agreed.

We both mutually agreed.

It was concensual.

He didn't force me, and it's the 21st century.