I'm In Love With My Bestfriend's Billionaire Fiance!
Chapter 96: Shopping For Maven

Chapter 96: Shopping For Maven

(Kira’s POV)

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The fluorescent lights buzzed faintly above me as I stepped deeper into the Rotary Supermarket. The place was alive with movement—tired mothers juggling toddlers and groceries, young couples whispering over produce choices, a cashier’s voice droning out over the intercom about a flash sale in aisle five. I grabbed a green plastic basket near the entrance, its handle already warm from a previous user, and I tried to blend into the human tide around me.

This was unfamiliar terrain.

I’d never been one for chaotic supermarkets. Too loud. Too unfiltered. Too...real. Usually, I had Casey by my side—her fingers dancing across labels, her knack for knowing which off-brand cereal was still edible. Back in college, she made it all look easy, even fun. She knew how to navigate the crowds, the long lines, the price stickers peeling off shelves. She made it feel like an adventure. Me? I’d been more comfortable in the hushed air-conditioned temples of luxury—grocery boutiques where avocados came wrapped in tissue and cost more than a meal.

But today, I was here. Alone.

And not by choice.

I moved through the first aisle with calculated nonchalance, grabbing random items—paper towels, a small pack of gum, a bottle of water. My hands moved on autopilot while my senses strained in every direction. It wasn’t the crowd that had me tense. It was that feeling. That clawing sensation at the base of my spine.

I was being watched.

I still didn’t know from where or by whom, but I felt it—like static in the air. A shift. A stubborn presence that didn’t belong. I hadn’t caught a clear glimpse, but I’d seen enough to know I wasn’t alone. A shape in the corner of my eye, a figure lingering too long in the mirror above the produce section. Someone was tracking me through the aisles, keeping just enough distance to avoid detection... but not suspicion. I had only managed to get a glimpse earlier, and I was sure he wasn’t going to repeat that mistake.

I clenched the handle of the basket tighter and took another turn. This time into a quieter section—bulk grains and dried beans. Sparse foot traffic. Fewer witnesses. Easier for someone to make a move.

Or for me to spot the motherfucker again.

But still—nothing. No face I recognized. No shadow lingering too long. Just the same humming lights, the same muffled conversations, and the constant clatter of carts and footsteps.

I grabbed a loaf of bread and kept moving. I was done trying to get them to reveal themselves. Let them think I was unaware. That way, they wouldn’t know I was also watching out for them through Kraven.

As my thoughts flashed to Kraven, I shivered. He was out there, lost somewhere in this crowd, circling closer to the person tailing me. My gut told me our stories would soon collide. But what if something went wrong on his end?

I tried to push that thought down, but it clung to me like smoke.

Another aisle. More shadows. A woman with a crying baby brushed past me. I kept my expression neutral, heart hammering beneath my hoodie. I turned sharply into the pet food section and stopped, pretending to examine a bag of dog treats.

The shelves of Rotary Supermarket were bursting with color—rows of goods meticulously stacked, yet disappearing fast as eager hands snatched them up. It was chaos masquerading as order. My basket hung heavy from my arm, swaying slightly with every determined step I took through the dense crowd. I gripped it tightly, my other hand clenching my phone as though it were my last line of defense. The paranoia was real. In a place this packed, it wouldn’t take much for someone to lift it clean out of my hand.

I’d never been this alert before. Every brush of an elbow felt intentional, every sidelong glance suspicious. My senses were in overdrive, my thoughts a whirlwind of tension and calculation. I hated it. The noise, the bodies, the closeness. I felt like prey walking willingly into a den full of predators. But I pushed through it.

Because I had to.

Maven’s list, coldly texted to me with no context or courtesy, was simple enough. A handful of household items—generic, basic, seemingly harmless. But I knew better. Nothing about Maven was ever harmless. The items weren’t the point; control was. This was about making me jump through hoops, obey orders like a trained dog. But I wasn’t going to let this become a pattern.

This was the first and last errand I’d ever run for him.

I moved swiftly through the aisles, scanning the shelves without much thought. When I spotted the item, I always picked the most expensive brand. I didn’t bother comparing labels or reading ingredients. Why should I? I wasn’t buying any of this for myself. I didn’t know who would be using it, and honestly, I didn’t care. I just wanted to get it done. Fast.

As I reached for a bottle of wine—triple the price of a regular one—I caught a flicker in the corner of my eye. A figure. Moving. Then gone. I turned my head sharply, but the aisle was already filled again with shoppers. Just noise. Just movement. Just nerves... I told myself.

Still, my hand tightened on the bottle until the price tag crinkled beneath my grip.

I shook it off and headed toward the checkout lines.

The lines were long, coiling like snakes toward the scattered registers. It looked overwhelming at first, but Rotary was smart. Dozens of checkout points were spread across the supermarket like nodes in a network. Customers were constantly funneled through, scanned, bagged, and sent on their way. It was organized chaos, but efficient.

I joined a queue behind a woman with a full cart and a toddler loudly gnawing on a box of cereal. My skin itched with impatience, the air around me thick with the scent of detergent, sweat, and faint supermarket perfume. My eyes flicked from person to person, never resting too long. That earlier shadow in the aisle still gnawed at me.

Was it paranoia?

Or something more?

When my turn came, I unloaded the items quickly. The cashier barely looked up, scanning my things with mechanical ease. When I paid, she gave me a polite, practiced smile. I didn’t return it.

I was too focused on getting out of there.

The glass doors of the Rotary Supermarket slid open with a hydraulic sigh as I stepped through them. The sunlight hit me like a slap, sudden and unfiltered. I blinked, adjusting, the plastic bags crinkling in my hands.

"Holy shit..." I muttered beneath my breath, the words barely audible over the roaring chaos around me. The sun struck my face like a wave of fire, a searing blast of heat that made my skin prickle. I squinted up at the sky, my eyes instantly regretting it. It was blinding—no clouds, no mercy. Just an unforgiving spotlight on a stage I didn’t want to be on.

The shopping bags tugged at my arms, heavy with Maven’s pointless errands. Two massive sacks of overpriced groceries, weighing down not just my muscles, but my pride. I shifted them in my grip, biting back a groan as the thin plastic handles threatened to cut into my skin. There was no grace in the way I moved—just the desperate shuffle of someone who wanted to get the hell out as fast as possible. To be done with the madness as soon as possible.

The parking lot was madness, just as when I had arrived.

A storm of humanity.

I weaved through the flood of bodies—elbows brushing mine, curses flying in the air like smoke, kids crying, vendors yelling. Horns blared from every direction, drivers leaning halfway out of their windows to shout obscenities at pedestrians who dared cross their path. One driver slammed his palm against his steering wheel, leaning on the horn like it owed him money.

"Move, you blind bastard!" someone screamed.

This place didn’t just make my skin crawl—it felt like it was peeling off inch by inch.

Rotary Plaza was alive in the worst way possible. A pulsating heart of chaos and heat and bodies pressed too close.

I found my car wedged between a rusty pickup and a beat-up delivery van with one flat tire and a cracked windshield. I dropped the bags onto the pavement with a sigh, reached into my pocket for the keys, and unlocked the door. The metal was hot to the touch, scalding. I winced and yanked it open.

The air inside was stifling. Stale. Everything about today was just infuriating as hell!

I popped the back door open and shoved the shopping bags inside, not bothering to arrange them. I just needed to leave. I slammed the door shut and turned toward the driver’s seat when—

A sound.

Or maybe not a sound—just a change in atmosphere.

Subtle. Off.

Something you wouldn’t notice unless your senses were already heightened, your nerves frayed to snapping point.

And mine were.

I looked up—and saw it.

A sleek black SUV glided past me like a panther through tall grass. The engine was quiet, almost too quiet for something that size. The windows were tinted darker than legal limits, reflecting the chaotic world around it in distorted shards.

It didn’t belong here.

Not in this plaza, not in this neighborhood.

It was too clean. Too sharp. Too expensive. It cut through the grime like a scalpel, and everything in me went rigid.

Rich folk didn’t come here—not unless they had a reason. The SUV looked out of place in the plaza. Everything about it was out it looked out of place. I knew at once that only a rich person could own it. They were the ones I knew who loved to own such luxurious vehicles.

And with that thought, only one name came to mind: Jace!