Chapter 8
Get it together, Whitmore.
I straighten my bow tie for the tenth time, staring myself down in the polished glass door of the no-frills Upper East Side elevator co-op.
You”ve done a thousand of these benefits. It’s just one more with slightly higher stakes.
When I ring the intercom to Maddie’s apartment, a melodic voice buzzes me up. Walking past the mirror and the fragrant lilies displayed on the lobby table, I take the elevator to the second floor, willing my damn pulse to stop the jittery tap dance behind my ribs.
Before I can overanalyze further, the door swings open, revealing a tall slender woman in her twenties with the same striking eyes as Maddie, but in jade rather than honey.
“You must be Maddie’s sister.” I smile, aiming for easy charm while discreetly peeking around her.
“Grace,” she says, eyeing me curiously just as a whirlwind of chestnut hair launches herself from the sofa. The resemblance is striking.
“Hi! I”m Aria, Maddie”s favorite—I mean ONLY baby sister,” she gushes, hazel eyes brimming with questions. From what Maddie told me, I assume the sisters are very close, but I wonder how much they knew of our arrangement.
“Jack. A pleasure.” I accept Aria”s enthusiastic handshake, unable to resist returning her infectious grin.
“Sooo, I gotta ask the hard questions here,” Aria announces, hands planted on her hips. “You were a Navy SEAL? You don’t look like a soldier.”
Her direct line of interrogation startles a laugh from me. “Uh, yes, maybe not in this suit. Now I work for my family”s tech company.” I raise an eyebrow at Grace who just coughs lightly into her hand, eyes gleaming. Meanwhile, Aria barrels on.
“So, how the heck did you and Maddie meet?”
I catch Grace”s warning look and scramble for a plausible half-truth. “We . . . bumped into each other on a hike last week and got to talking.”
Aria narrows her eyes, clearly unimpressed.
Just then, Maddie comes out of her room, a vision in glittering sapphire. The gown”s draped silhouette reveals her delicate collarbone. Her umber locks tumble over one shoulder in gentle curls, daring my hands to tunnel through. As she glides toward me, I catch a whiff of the sweet scent of lavender, and I”m momentarily paralyzed.
“Hi, Jack,” Maddie greets me softly. Noticing my reaction, a hint of a smirk plays on her red lips.
Damn. This woman could tempt a saint.
“Maddie. You look . . .” I grasp for an adjective. “Striking. “
Focus, man.
Was the room always this sweltering?
“We should get going.” I grab her hand as she waves with the other at her startled sisters, and we take our leave.
Tonight will be one long, exquisite torture session.
* * *
I steerthe car up the winding drive, gravel crunching beneath the tires. The sprawling resort emerges, lit up like a golden jewel against the night sky. I toss the keys to the valet and round the car just as Maddie steps out, looking unfairly poised and lovely. Unable to resist, I trail my eyes down the plunging backline of her gown, vividly recalling an hour of sweet agony on the highway.
Watching her dance and lip-synch through sultry pop from the corner of my eye had my hands white-knuckled on the wheel, undoing me mile by mile. For an hour, she scrolled through playlists, lip-syncing and recording catchy dance moves and hand gestures that had my heart pumping.
“For tomorrow’s posts,” she explained when she caught me staring at her in slow traffic, with not a clue about the havoc she was wrecking on my restraint. By the time the city skyline faded behind us, I had mapped out countless scenarios that would surely earn her viral fame of a distinctly more risqué variety.
As the valet zooms off into the night, I catch Maddie admiring the sprawling golden resort, the jeweled lights dancing across her face. Unable to stop my wandering gaze, I drink in the sight of her in that striking gown, desire still simmering from our charged drive.
Clearing my throat gruffly, I fish a ring from inside my dinner jacket. I lift Maddie”s slender hand in mine, the warmth and nearness hitting me. Without fanfare, I slide the sizable diamond solitaire onto her finger.
“There. Now the engagement looks legitimately official,” I mutter, eyes on the glittering stone rather than meeting her startled look. Still clasping her hand loosely, my thumb brushes across her smooth knuckles.
“Figured if we”re going to convince my father, might as well back up the act with some serious carat dazzle,” I add with attempted nonchalance.
Silence hangs for several taut heartbeats as Maddie finally looks up searchingly. Something uncomfortable grips my chest awaiting her reaction after essentially branding her as my bride-to-be.
“Any other fiancé surprises up those sleeves of yours?” Maddie asks lightly, popping the tension. I grin as I take her arm, her warmth and nearness undoing my resolve. We climb the stone steps adorned with exotic floral displays. From the arched doorway, jazz music and laughter spills outside, mingling with the soft gurgle of courtyard fountains. I present our engraved invitations and pass into the sprawling grand ballroom, washed in amber light.
Gliding inside, I hear Maddie’s soft gasp as she takes in the dazzling display. Towering ice sculptures carved into various military insignia flank the spacious dance floor, sending prismatic reflections dancing. Medal-adorned veterans mingle with magnates and their stunning wives draped in designer gowns and dripping in diamonds. Servers in crisp uniforms offer trays laden with haute cuisine canapés. We walk through the lavish ballroom with Maddie’s hand tucked in mine.
She leans in, her lavender perfume coiling around me. I stop to face her, tilting her chin up to meet my gaze. Her lips part softly as I trace my thumb across her jawline. I graze my mouth over hers, relishing in her shudder, then take her hand again.
“Ready for our debut, Little Bird?” I wink at her and lead us down the grand staircase into the blinding display of New York”s highest echelon.
Weaving through the cocktail reception, I spot familiar faces and introduce Maddie as my fiancé. Male eyes follow her hungrily, but she presses closer to me, our steps syncing seamlessly. I let go of her hand to grab a flute of champagne for her and a sparkling water for me, then place my free hand on the sweet slope where her back bends into a curve. Her skin feels like warmed satin, and I can’t help but trace my thumb over the delicate dimpled shadow at the base of her spine.
She slows her steps, and I look down, noticing her lips quiver.
“The way you are touching me doesn’t feel like pretend, soldier.”
Before I can respond, a familiar voice calls out. “Jack Whitmore! Good to see you back stateside, son.”
I turn to find Joseph Barton, an old business associate of my father”s, making his way over, white-haired head bobbing eagerly above the crowd. We exchange a hearty pat-on-the-back hug.
“Joe, wonderful to see you,” I greet him sincerely. “Let me introduce my fiancé, Maddie Emerson.”
My hand still splayed on her bare back, she ducks her head with an endearing blush, eyes dancing under the crystal chandeliers.
As Burton prattles politely, telling her a childhood anecdote, I notice my father approaching, a crystal tumbler in hand.
“Dad, just the man I was looking for,” I greet him, shaking his hand firmly. “Allow me to introduce my fiancé, Maddie Emerson.”
Walt”s salt-and-pepper brows shoot upward. “A fiancé? Well, that’s a welcome development.” He grins, his gaze raking over Maddie. “You”ve been hiding this lovely girl, huh?”
Maddie”s body tightens almost imperceptibly, and I jump in breezily, “We”ve kept it below the radar. But now that we’re getting married, it feels like it’s time for an official introduction.”
I smile down at Maddie, who manages to meet Walt”s piercing stare. “But we”re thrilled to come out in the open at long last, right, sweetheart?”
Her responding giggle sounds only slightly forced. To my relief, Burton slaps my father on the back, both breaking into a sly grin as Walt pulls a stunned Maddie into a gruff embrace.
His booming laugh echoes through the glittering space. Over his shoulder, I spot the gala organizer subtly waving me over.
I squeeze Maddie”s hand, leaning in close. “That”s my cue for my opening remarks. Will you be alright entertaining Dad and Joe until I return, my love?”
Before she responds, Burton presses a new champagne flute into her palm. “No need to worry! Your bride-to-be is in good hands. Walt and I will tell all your embarrassing childhood stories while you’re away.” Maddie takes a small sip of her drink and manages a weak smile.
I brush my lips across her knuckles, an intimate move not lost on Walt and Burton. “I”ll be as quick as I can, darling. Save me a dance?”
“I promise.” She nods, and I catch Burton giving us a thumbs-up behind Walt”s shoulder. With a deep breath, I slip through the crowd, my pulse accelerating to a staccato rhythm.
After getting a microphone clipped on my collar, I walk up to the stage, momentarily blinded by the spotlight washing the podium in a halo.
“I”d like to sincerely thank our host committee for their continued generosity in supporting innovation that keeps American soldiers safer, whether that be technologies like satellite imaging, encrypted communications equipment, advanced heads-up displays, or other cutting-edge breakthroughs. Here in New York, you uphold the armor defending freedom worldwide.”
Approving murmurs and a wave of applause allow me to take a cleansing breath that manages to slow my pulse.
“But we must also continue fighting for those brave men and women when they return back to us. Far too many bear wounds unseen. I count myself grateful to have walked off the plane physically unscathed. Not every vet can say the same.”
I pause, looking for Maddie’s eyes in the crowd. Her gaze is trained on me, listening intently. We haven’t spent too much time talking about my experiences overseas, not only because we were busy with more . . . pressing matters. She takes a sip of her drink, her eyes revealing awe.
“I lost brothers and have comrades now paralyzed and plagued by vivid nightmares. But Whitmore Tech has developed experimental virtual reality software specifically for retraining trauma-scarred neural pathways using targeted visual and sensory input. Early results show promise helping to undo some of war’s deepest ravages.”
I look over the crowd and notice a few entrepreneurs who could possibly be interested.
“Today, I take this stage to let you know that Whitmore Tech is eager to partner with like-minded infrastructure providers looking to expand into this opportunity, so this revolutionary PTSD treatment can aid veterans most desperately in need.”
As I thank the crowd and exit the stage to thunderous applause, I’m reenergized by the prospect of making the VR software available to a wide base.
I find Maddie chatting comfortably with my father and Burton near the silent auction displays. As if feeling my presence, she turns to me and eagerly extends her arm, which I accept greedily.
“A great speech, Jack.” My father beams. “It will save you hours of exploratory calls and meetings.”
“Ballsy, giving notice to prospective partners in this way,” Burton adds nodding his head approvingly.
Indeed. This was a carefully orchestrated move. The event chairs quickly recognized that Whitmore”s expansion into veteran healthcare aligns perfectly with their goals. I suppose fortune favors the bold.
With the business part of the evening now done, all I want is to sweep Maddie away and enjoy myself.
And while we are here, I can touch her as if she is mine.
It’s to keep the pretense, I justify to myself.
“Gentlemen, if I may steal my girl back?”
My girl.
It rings true, and yet, it is fake. Maddie looks up at me in surprise, and I slip my arm around her tiny waist. My old man grins, satisfied that his ordinance is being taken up.
“But of course! Can”t have you lovebirds wasting away when a four-course meal awaits. We were just telling Maddie here about your boyhood obsession with astronaut ice cream.”
I roll my eyes in good humor as Burton guffaws. Pressing a swift kiss to Maddie’s soft lips, I whisk her away toward the dining hall.
As we settle at our assigned table, I lift a glass to hers. “To new partnerships.”
Maddie”s eyes glimmer conspiratorially above her champagne flute rim. “I”ll drink to that, partner.”
Soon an impressive spread appears courtesy of the resort”s Michelin-starred restaurant.
Between bites of expertly prepared beef tenderloin and indulgent truffle risotto, we fall into easy conversation. For all our rocky beginnings, Maddie has a way of putting me instantly at ease.
With a third glass of champagne nearing empty, Maddie”s cheeks are now a rosy hue. I’m enthralled by her spirited accounts of online video antics.
A sharply dressed man in his mid-twenties zeros in, oozing privilege. “Well, hello gorgeous. You look an awful lot like the MadeYaLookMaddie I”ve been obsessing about. I have the biggest crush on you.” His bold eyes trace down Maddie”s body.
I bristle as she flushes deeper at the uncouth attention while he blathers awestruck compliments.
“Allow me to introduce myself. Preston Walsh the Fourth, though you mustn”t add the fourth digitally, it cheapens the brand” He reaches for her hand, stroking rather than shaking. “You are infinitely more radiant and full in person. Truly sublime.”
As Maddie shifts uncomfortably, he leers at her.
“Would you wanna dance?”
I clear my throat as I stand up and level a steady warning gaze, ready to drag him away by his ears if I need to. “Her dance card is full, Walsh.”
He glances up irritably, his eyes widening under my uncompromising stare. “Jack Whitmore. Of course, she’d attract your singular company. How long have you been hiding this precious gem?”
His eyes rake down Maddie again as he wets his lips. “No diamond in the vault compares to dazzling MadeYaLookMaddie here. Would be criminal depriving the world of seeing every perfect inch.”
Revulsion and protectiveness surge in me hotly. “That’s my future wife you’re talking about. Back away, Walsh.”
Something in my deadly tone must finally reach him. But his lingering last look and smirk as he bows and walks away promise trouble.
Exhaling, Maddie arches her brow. “My hero, rescuing damsels from black bears and overeager fans alike.” Her teasing lilt both needles and thrills me.
Just then, the opening chords of Elton John’s “Blessed” wash soothingly through the grand space.
“Dance with me?”
She smiles softly, placing her delicate hand in mine. I draw her close, breathing in her lavender perfume as we sway gently to the lovestruck lyrics. With her cheek resting lightly against my chest, I couldn”t invent a more convincing image of a besotted fiancé if I tried.
My hand trails her bare back, my body remembering how she felt lying naked and sated in my arms. For a few hours during that night, I let everything fade except for her.
Holding her wrapped in my arms, her lithe frame glued to mine, feels like the final missing piece of a puzzle I”ve been fumbling with for a long time.
Get a grip, man.
This is a damned business arrangement.