Chapter 6 #2
She tucks her bare feet under herself, leaning back against the couch cushions. It’s a pose I’ve seen a dozen women use — casual, unconcerned — but in Maddie it reads differently. Controlled. Deliberate. Like she knows exactly what it looks like to have her hem slip a little higher over her thigh.
“Don’t look at me like that,” she says without glancing up.
“Like what?”
“Like you’ve already decided who I am.”
I glance at her over my shoulder. “Haven’t I?”
She smirks faintly. “I don’t think so. If you had, you wouldn’t still be here.”
I take a sip, letting the burn travel down my throat before answering. “Maybe I’m here because I don’t like loose ends.”
“Or maybe,” she says, tilting her head, “you just like being in control.”
There’s no bite to the accusation. No heat. Just curiosity — and that’s somehow worse. Because she’s right. I do like control. It’s the only way I’ve kept my life and my business from unraveling completely.
I cross the room slowly, stopping just in front of her. I can smell my soap on her body. She must’ve showered already when I was downstairs sorting out this mess. My mind betrays me, supplying the thought of pressing my face into her neck and inhaling until I can’t think about anything else.
I set the glass down on the table beside her, close enough that my knuckles brush her knee. The touch is accidental. Or maybe it isn’t.
She doesn’t flinch.
“Go to bed, Maddie,” I say, my voice lower than I intend.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. She looks up at me with those steady eyes, and I know she feels the same shift in the air. There’s an awareness now, a recognition that whatever this is, it isn’t just convenience or circumstance.
Finally, she pulls the blanket tighter around herself. “If you’re trying to scare me off, you’ll have to do better than that.”
I straighten, forcing my hands back to my sides. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to keep us from making a mistake.”
She tilts her head, lips curving just slightly. “You think it would be a mistake?”
I don’t answer, because the truth is… I’m not sure. But this is temporary, and I just have to keep it that way. It doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.
“You really think you can fix this?” she asks, brows furrowed.
I meet her gaze over the rim of the glass. “I don’t intend to let it fall apart.”
Her chin lifts, the barest trace of defiance. “And what if I don’t want it fixed?”
That draws me back toward her, one measured step at a time, until I’m close enough to see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “Then you’d better tell me now, Maddie. Before I put any more work into holding it together.”
She doesn’t answer. Not with words. Just sits there, breathing a little faster, eyes locked on mine like she’s daring me to do something about it.
“You should sleep,” I say again, quieter this time.
She leans back, tucking her legs under the blanket, but her gaze stays fixed on me until I turn away.
“Come.”
Is it just me, or does the tension ramp up a notch at my command? Behind me, I hear Maddie’s feet hit the wood floor. She pads after me as I stride across the suite, determined to put as much distance as I can between us. Locked doors, if need be.
She’s yours to do with what you wish.
The problem is, I already know exactly what that is. And it has nothing to do with business.
“You can stay here, in the guest bedroom.”
It’s smaller than my bedroom, but neat, tidy, the comforter something to drown in and the vintage lamp throwing amber light. Madeline doesn’t look around, her eyes locked on me. Of course, she’s had hours to explore by herself, because I left her here.
“Do you have someone looking for Derrick? Do you know where he is?”
I pause with my hand on the doorknob. “It doesn’t matter where he is. I’ll find him before the week is out, and we can discuss what the best path forward is.”
She follows me back into the living room, blanket trailing like a cape, eyes sharp. The nearness of her, the warmth at my back, makes me restless with tension. Annoyed at myself. “So, you’re not even going to tell me?”
I lean against the frame. “It won’t change anything tonight.”
Her laugh is short and bitter. “That’s convenient. Keep me in the dark, let me smile for the cameras, and hope I don’t embarrass you before dessert.”
I study her for a long beat. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“That’s what you are doing,” she fires back. “And Derrick—” The name comes out like she’s biting into something rotten. “—is probably halfway to a beach with a drink in his hand, telling his friends how he dodged a bullet.”
Her words cut sharper than I expect. Maybe because I’ve thought the same thing.
“He’s unreliable,” I say, tone flat.
“He’s worthless,” she corrects. “He didn’t even have the decency to tell me he was running away from our wedding, Ben. He just… left. And now I’m married to his father, which—” she throws her hands out “—wasn’t exactly in the brochure.”
The air between us is charged, humming with the same volatile mix I felt in the distillery the evening of the engagement party—anger, adrenaline, and something I shouldn’t want from her.
“Maddie—”
“No,” she says, stepping closer. “You don’t get to smooth this over. You don’t get to stand there like you’re above it when you’ve been part of the problem from the start.”
I straighten, shoulders squaring. “You think I planned for this?”
“I think you planned for me to be property in a merger,” she snaps. “You’re just as bad as my father. A pawn to be moved where it’s convenient. And now I’m your pawn instead of his.”
Her voice trembles on the last word, not with fear, but fury.
I take a step toward her, then another, until we’re a breath apart. “Careful,” I murmur.
Her chin lifts, defiant. “What? Afraid I might say something you don’t like?”
“I’m afraid you don’t know when to stop.”
“Maybe I don’t,” she says, eyes locked on mine. “Maybe I’m done pretending this isn’t a disaster. That your son’s a coward. That you’re—”
“Say it,” I press.
She exhales hard, chest rising against the thin fabric of whatever she’s wearing under that blanket. “That you’re worse than him. Just better at hiding it.”
She doesn’t believe it; it’s obvious from the tremble in her voice, but there’s fear there. Maddie is afraid it might be true.
My jaw tightens. “You don’t know a damn thing about me.”
Her gaze flicks to my mouth, just for a second, then back to my eyes. “Then maybe you should enlighten me.”
The blanket slips off her shoulder. Underneath, white silk catches the low lamplight—wedding-night lingerie she must have put on for someone else.
For my son.
Every muscle in my body locks, and it takes everything I have not to look lower. Not to take that last half-step and find out if she’d push me away or pull me in.
“I should go to bed,” I say, voice sounding distant to my own ears.
“Then why aren’t you?”
Her challenge hangs between us, heavy as the scent of her skin—vanilla, faint tobacco, something warmer underneath.
Because I’m not ready to.
Because the part of me that should be thinking about annulments and contracts and damage control is thinking about the heat in her eyes.