CHAPTER 75: INTRUDE.

Maximus was sprawled out on the couch, his feet propped up on the coffee table, a half-empty can of soda balanced precariously on his stomach.

Today was supposed to be his day off — no photoshoots, no meetings, no business calls.

Just him, his couch, and a bag of chips.

Of course, his phone had other plans.

[Anita: So... when are we having that date?]

Maximus sighed. Anita was nothing if not persistent.

[Maximus: Probably never.]

A second later, his screen lit up with a dramatic gasp emoji.

[Anita: Wow. Rude.]

[Maximus: I’ll consider it after the launch. You should get some rest.]

She didn’t reply right away, which meant he had won this round.

He dropped his phone onto his chest and took another sip of soda, eyes growing heavy.

’Finally, peace.’

Then came the knock at the door.

Maximus groaned, rolling his head back. "You have got to be kidding me."

A voice crackled through the intercom. "Sir, someone’s here to see you."

"Who?"

"She wouldn’t say. Just told me to get you."

Maximus frowned. He wasn’t expecting anyone.

With a sigh, he got up, stretched, and made his way to the front door.

The moment he opened it —

"Maximus!"

A blur of motion tackled him before he could react, arms wrapping tightly around him.

The scent of burnt rubber and expensive cologne hit him before his brain registered what was happening.

"Dressa?"

She pulled back just enough to grin at him. "Miss me?"

Maximus blinked. "You were literally racing in another country yesterday I think."

"Two days ago," she corrected. "Took the first flight this morning."

He shook his head in disbelief. "And instead of resting, you came straight here?"

"Duh. I had to see my favorite person."

"What about your pit crew?"

"They’ll survive." She waved a hand dismissively. "I left them a ’Welcome Home’ text. That counts."

Maximus chuckled. "You’re impossible."

She smirked, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation.

Maximus shut the door as she flopped onto his couch, stretching out like she owned the place.

"So," she said, propping her feet up on his lap. "What’s up with you?"

Maximus sat down, nudging her legs off. "Not much. Just trying to relax before the launch."

Dressa gave him a look. "Relax? You? The guy who probably did some kind of work right before I showed up?"

Maximus scoffed. "That’s — " He glanced at his laptop on the coffee table. " — completely untrue."

Dressa smirked. "Mhm."

Maximus sighed, deciding to change the subject. "So, how was the race? I watched it but I want to hear it from you,"

She brightened. "Insane. Almost wrecked in qualifiers, but I pulled through."

"You were shooting across the field like a meteor,"

Dressa grinned. "You know, you still owe me a race."

Maximus raised a brow. "I don’t remember agreeing to that."

"You didn’t. But you will."

Maximus sighed. "You just got back and already want to destroy me in a race?"

"Absolutely." She leaned closer. "I’ll even let you pick the car."

Maximus rubbed his chin. "Any car?"

"Any car."

He smirked. "How about... a bicycle?"

Dressa gasped, looking genuinely offended. "How dare you."

Maximus burst out laughing. "Hey, you said any vehicle."

"I mean’t real ones."

"Bicycles are real."

She grabbed a pillow and smacked him over the head. "You’re impossible."

He laughed, swatting her hand away. "Fine, I’ll race you. But only if I get a handicap."

Dressa rolled her eyes. "I’ll give you five seconds. Anything more is charity."

"Deal."

She stuck out her hand, and they shook on it.

For a moment, they just sat there, comfortable in each other’s presence.

Then Dressa stretched out her arms. "It’s good to be back."

Maximus smiled. "Yeah. It’s good to have you back."

She glanced at him, a soft look in her eyes before she grinned again.

"Now, let’s order some food. I’m starving."

Maximus chuckled. "Sounds like a plan."

Maximus leaned back against the couch, his phone in one hand as he scrolled through the food delivery app.

Dressa, who had somehow made herself completely at home, was now curled up in his lap, her head resting against his chest like it was her personal pillow.

He wasn’t sure when she had decided this was her new spot, but here they were.

Not that he minded.

His free hand absently stroked her hair as he clicked on a pizza order. "Pepperoni okay?"

Dressa hummed, nuzzling slightly against his chest. "Add extra cheese."

"Of course." Maximus smirked. "Racing champion Dressa Carpenter demands only the finest mozzarella."

"You get me." She sighed dramatically. "If you had ordered pineapple, I would’ve walked out."

Maximus chuckled. "Noted. No pineapple."

He finished the order, putting his phone aside, only for Dressa to suddenly shove her own phone in his face.

"Explain this."

Maximus blinked, eyes adjusting to the screen.

It was Anita’s social media post — the one that had blown up with millions of views.

It featured the now-infamous clip of him and Anita during the video shoot, the two of them looking way too comfortable together as they talked.

Dressa squinted at him. "So... you and Anita now?"

Maximus sighed. "Dressa — "

"She’s all over you in this video."

"She’s just flirtatious."

Dressa crossed her arms. "And were you?"

Maximus hesitated. "...I was just going along with it."

Dressa zoomed in on a paused frame where Anita was laughing and touching his arm. "You enjoyed it."

Maximus groaned. "Oh, come on. You know how she is. She flirts with everyone."

Dressa huffed, shoving the phone into his chest. "Yeah, well, the comments are insane. Look at this one — "

She scrolled aggressively and read aloud: "Omg, Maximusis so hot, someone give me his number?"

Maximus smirked. "At least they have good taste."

Dressa whacked him with a pillow.

"Okay, okay, sorry!" Maximus laughed, dodging her next attempt. "But seriously, why do you care?"

Dressa opened her mouth, then hesitated.

She glanced away, suddenly finding interest in the couch fabric.

Maximus raised a brow. "Dressa?"

She stayed silent for a moment before mumbling, "...It’s annoying."