Chapter 669

Claire had dined at this restaurant before.

It was an elite establishment, notorious for its exclusivity. Reservations had to be made at least seventy-two hours in advance.

Since she hadn’t booked ahead, walking in without notice was impossible.

Oddly enough, three days ago had been the night of their high school reunion.

A suspicion nagged at Claire—had Max planned this all along?

Seated across from him now, she studied him carefully.

The dim lighting during their interview had been different.

Now, face-to-face, she realized how much the boy she once knew had changed.

He was even more striking than she remembered, his height commanding the space between them.

Noticing her stare, Max set down his silverware. "Something on my face, or is the steak not to your taste?"

With a playful smirk, he slid a piece of his steak onto her plate. "Want to trade?"

Claire snapped back to reality and took a bite before steering the conversation toward the interview.

"So, you were the one who pushed my name forward?"

Something didn’t add up.

She had clearly marked mother on her résumé. If they had an issue with that, they should have rejected her application outright.

Instead, they had called her in—only to dismiss her for that very reason.

It felt like her application had been rejected, then mysteriously reinstated by Max.

He shrugged. "I did give you that opportunity."

"Then why let me interview just to turn me down for that?" Claire pressed. "Was this some kind of humiliation tactic? Do you think mothers can’t chase dreams?"

Max’s expression darkened. "That’s not what I meant at all. You’re misreading me."

"Then explain," she challenged, leaning in.

He exhaled. "This industry is brutal. The competition is fierce. Youth is currency, and you’ll face worse than this."

Claire couldn’t argue with that.

Soft piano music filled the upscale restaurant, wrapping them in an intimate ambiance.

Their booth by the window was cozy, the glass fogged from the chilly air outside.

Max’s gaze locked onto hers, intense and unreadable.

Claire wondered what his real motive was.

Years apart had turned them into strangers, despite their shared past.

This place wasn’t cheap. If Max just wanted to belittle her and flaunt his success, he wouldn’t have bothered with dinner. After tonight, they’d go their separate ways—likely forever.

He lifted his wine glass, clinking it gently against hers.

Then, from his pocket, he produced a business card and slid it across the table.

The title CEO of Starlight Entertainment gleamed under the soft light.

She knew the company—rising fast in the industry, responsible for launching multiple A-listers recently.

So that was why his family had moved to Cresthaven.

"If I remember right," he said, fingers tapping the table, "your dream was to dance professionally."

A simple gesture, but with his sharp features, it radiated effortless confidence.

Claire laughed softly, self-deprecating. "I injured my leg. I can still dance for fun, but a career? That ship sailed."

Dancing demanded perfection—relentless training, punishing routines. Her doctor’s prognosis had forced her into modeling instead.

Max, however, didn’t look surprised.

His knowing gaze suggested he’d expected this. "If you could go back, would you?"

"Without hesitation," Claire answered. "Dancing is my passion. Modeling was just… a detour."

His voice, deep and smooth, wrapped around her like warmth. "Then let me offer you a position at Starlight. Come work with me."

Claire froze.

Every word until now had led here.

Max wanted her in Cresthaven.

Starlight was a powerhouse, known for cultivating talent—whether established stars or fresh faces. Transitioning from performer to mentor would keep her in the dance world.

"Salary, meals, housing—all covered. Solid deal," he added, signaling for the check.

Outside, Claire was still processing.

Moving to Cresthaven? She’d never considered it.

Suddenly, a deliveryman rushed past, nearly colliding with her. Max grabbed her wrist, yanking her against his chest.

Claire stumbled, her cheek pressed to his shirt.

The scent of sandalwood enveloped her, his body heat sending a shiver down her spine.

For a heartbeat, they looked like lovers embracing.

Claire blinked, dazed.

"You okay?" Max murmured, fingers brushing her hair. "Scared?"

Before she could pull away, Lucas appeared, voice sharp with anger. "What’s going on here?"

They turned to see him striding over, eyes stormy.

He seized Claire’s arm, wrenching her back as he glared at Max. "Care to explain?"

Lucas must have been dining with clients—two middle-aged executives lingered behind him, shifting uncomfortably.

Max remained calm. "We were just having dinner."

Lucas scoffed. "Old classmates catching up? Just the two of you?"

Max’s smirk held a challenge. "We weren’t close then. Who knows about now?"

Tension crackled between them. Lucas’s instincts screamed that Max had ulterior motives.

Deliberately, Lucas leaned in. "Claire, your daughter’s starting to recognize people. This morning, she was looking everywhere for you."

The mention of Bella was a calculated strike. Everyone knew what it implied—a divorced mother wasn’t exactly prime dating material.

Lucas expected Max to falter.

Instead, Max met his gaze, cool and unshaken.

As he brushed past Lucas, he murmured just loud enough to hear:

"This time, I won’t let her go."