Chapter Thirty-Three
By the time Madden pulled into the parking lot of the Gilded Garden, he was ready to combust. He’d have been there two hours
earlier, if not for the congestion on the highway. And when he saw that there wasn’t even one available parking spot, his
panic increased. Too many fascinated people around Eve. Too many members of the media warring over information, wanting to
know more about them and willing to get up close and personal to track down details. Anything they could report to feed the
growing public interest.
Even now, he could see cameramen and reporters lurking at the front entrance, barred entry by the bouncer. That was a good
thing, at least. To avoid being rushed and questioned, Madden drove his truck around back, through an opening in the trees,
and parked at the backstage exit, alighting from his truck as fast as possible before anyone caught wind of his arrival.
Keys in hand, he juggled until he found the right one. The key Eve had given him years earlier and he never thought he’d have
to use. Thankfully, it still worked, and Madden let himself into the backstage area.
As soon as he heard the music, he knew he was too late.
It was the same song that played the night he’d walked into the empty club and found Eve dancing by herself.
His wife was out there on that stage right now.
And did he like her taking off her clothes in front of strangers?
Hell no, he didn’t. He wanted the seductiveness of Eve to be deployed only on him.
Only ever on him. But he was more upset knowing she’d been driven out there by desperation.
By the self-destructive need to detonate a bomb and walk away giving everyone the finger.
Including him.
And yet, as he took a position at stage left to watch her, out of view of the crowd, he saw the woman he’d fallen in love
with. God, she was fucking glorious in her unsmiling defiance, black silk gloves on the ground at her feet. Standing with
her hip cocked in the blue spotlight, she pulled the lace of her corset with a coy flutter of her eyelashes, sending the crowd
into a tizzy, the volume increasing as she loosened the black, ribbed garment more, more, before swiftly giving the audience
her back and letting the corset tumble down, past her hips to the floor.
She kicked it backward at somebody in the front row with the aid of her sky-high heels, hitting them square in the face. “Oops.”
She pouted over her shoulder.
She wore nothing now but heels, a tiny silver skirt, and a black lace bra that looked suspiciously sheer from where he was
standing. His body reacted to naked Eve the way it had been made to do, his cock swelling a little more with every wiggle
of her hips. And yet, his hunger was accompanied by the twist of dread in his stomach, his chest. His ample knowledge of Eve
told him this was wrong for her. She was acting out. But what could he do about it without making the situation worse? Her
control had been stolen over the last forty-eight hours. He couldn’t and wouldn’t take any more of it.
A beat dropped midway through the song and Eve moved with it, turning to the crowd and letting them see her in the brief, transparent bra, their whistles and cheers egging her on, and it was hard to know that, despite her mental turmoil in this moment, her underlying desire to be on display was being satisfied.
Eyes closed, body locked in a sensual roll, Eve lowered the side zipper of her skirt, all the way to the bottom, and Madden’s
mouth dried up, his pulse thickening everywhere because he couldn’t take his attention off the beauty of her, peeling open
the side of her skirt in the sapphire light and . . .
What was that?
She turned away from the audience again before her panties could come into view . . . and they must have been low-cut panties,
instead of her usual high-waisted ones. The ones she always wore and had in every color. But not tonight and . . . Eve stopped
on a dime as she faced Madden, her movements ceasing as if her batteries had run out. He couldn’t see her face, though; all
he could see was the scar running from the lower right side of her belly button, curving kind of like a hockey stick and ending
near her pelvis.
Hot and cold flames engulfed his body, the sound of the music turning thin and distorted in his ears. His brain struggled
through a violent tide of confusion to make sense of Eve having that scar. A kidney donor scar. He knew. He knew what they
looked like, because he’d researched the process extensively, wanting to know what his donor had gone through. Why they thought
him worthy. Wanting to understand why someone would save his bloody life and not come forward. Not give him the opportunity
to say thank you.
Knowing this stubborn, complicated, and quietly generous woman as well as he did now . . . how in god’s name had he never
guessed it was her?
His stomach was collapsing in on itself.
What if there had been a complication with the surgery?
She only had one kidney now, his Eve. What if something happened to the remaining one? What if she needed the one inside him?
Madden had no control over his actions and he must have taken a step into view, because suddenly the crowd was chanting his
new, ridiculous nickname, but he couldn’t see anything or anyone but his wife, his savior. His hero. None of these people
would ever know they’d been in the presence of someone who’d sought only to be selfless and gotten nothing but persecution
in exchange.
In that moment, he wanted to burn the whole town down.
“No,” he heard himself saying, his fingertips tracing the air in the shape of her scar. “No, love. No.”
Eve stared back at him with an attempt at defiance, but her chin was wobbling, the blue light turning her eyes into lakes
of moisture.
“Why? Why didn’t you tell me?” he said uselessly, because the music absorbed his voice, but she seemed to read his lips, nonetheless. Not that she
responded. In fact, Eve seemed to come free of a trance in the moments that followed, looking out at the spread of faces and
drawing into herself, the spell she’d woven now broken for her.
Madden stood there at a loss for what to do. How to keep breathing now that he knew what she’d sacrificed for him. How did
someone live under the weight of so much love and gratitude for a person?
My god, the strain she would feel if he let it all show.
Just then, the love of his life was struggling, however.
He could read her like a book and she’d been interrupted in the middle of making the point she felt compelled to make.
Furthermore, it occurred to Madden that his sudden appearance had put a halt to the performance, and he looked disapproving, just as the media suggested he might be.
No, he wouldn’t be that. He’d never be that again.
And he wouldn’t stand in the way of her taking back her control.
Without examining his actions too closely, simply doing what felt right for Eve, Madden walked farther out onto the stage,
moving closer to Eve until she had to tip her head back to look at him.
“Keep going, love,” he leaned down to say in her ear. “I’m right here with you.”
“You shouldn’t be here for this,” she whispered.
Madden tipped up her chin and gently notched their lips together. “Lose the skirt.”
Her lids fluttered, and he could sense her struggling between two options. What she needed to do and what she thought was
best for him. But when he pressed his mouth more firmly to hers and let her feel a graze of his teeth, the former won.
Looking him in the eye, Eve started to sway her hips to the music once again, sending a ripple of cheers and shouts through
the audience.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he said, rolling their foreheads together. “Don’t stop.”
“Okay,” she said haltingly, but her confidence grew as she absorbed whatever was on his face, a little bit of mischief taking
up the insecurity he’d seen moments earlier, and, lord, was he grateful to see it go. “Feel free to join me,” she murmured,
turning him to face the rapt audience, before taking a slow lap around his body, stopping in front of him with a raised eyebrow.
Madden stripped off his shirt, tossing the garment out into the audience, who were absolutely roaring at this point. Eve wasn’t expecting it.
He’d cherish that spark that reentered her eyes afterward for the rest of his life.
With a challenging look, she gave Madden her back, pressing the curve of her butt into his lap and sliding all the way down
to the floor, before working herself all the way back up. When the audience cheered their approval, Madden looked down to
discover Eve had left her silver, tasseled skirt on the floor.
He swallowed hard.
Had he really earned the care of a woman this extraordinary? This beautiful?
Left in a pair of black low-cut bikini panties, the bra, and heels, Eve ran her hands up the front of Madden’s chest and okay,
yeah, disgracing himself onstage became a distinct possibility, because goddamn. His wife was sexy and challenging. Unafraid.
Especially when she looked up at him and the words “Take off my bra” came out of her mouth.
And Madden obeyed, reaching around to the back of Eve while the cheers rose to a deafening fervor, people stomping on the
floor and pounding the tables. He nuzzled her nose a moment, then with a tweak of his fingers the bra was unfastened. But
they were chest to chest, so it remained in place in front, even as the back straps swung open. “That’s a nice trick,” he
said hoarsely.
“Thank you, I just thought of it now.” She glanced back over her shoulder at the crowd, returning her attention to Madden
a few seconds later. “I think we’ve given them enough for tonight. Always leave them wanting more, right?”
“Wise words.” Madden wasted no time sliding his forearm under Eve’s backside, lifting her off the floor, and carrying her off the stage to thunderous applause and straight into her office, kicking the door shut behind him and locking it.