22. Maddie
22
MADDIE
I woke up to sunlight streaming through the curtains of my hotel suite, the memory of Ian’s kiss from the night before blooming in my mind like the first rays of dawn. Turning onto my side, I clutched the pillow, a soft smile spreading across my lips as fragments of the night replayed in my mind.
The way his hands had held me, like I was something precious.
How his lips had moved with mine, stealing my breath with every kiss.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been kissed like that.
Like I was beautiful.
Like I was special.
Like I mattered.
Mattered to a man who had the entire world at his feet—a man who could have anyone he wanted. But in that moment, on the couch in Ian’s hotel suite, he hadn’t wanted just anyone. He’d wanted me .
A flutter of nerves stirred in my stomach as I turned onto my back, staring at the ceiling. Was it possible that I’d totally interpreted everything wrong and was seeing things the way I wanted to? Yes, it definitely was since we had started that kiss under the pretense of it being practice for the fake engagement we were pretending to be in.
But I don’t know…with the way he’d looked at me—his eyes burning with something that mirrored the ache in my chest.
With how he’d been so genuine and present and had really seemed to get as lost in the moment as I had…it just felt too real to be part of some act.
But if I was wrong…if it was all fake and I was fooling myself into believing Ian Hastings—one of the most powerful, sought-after men I’d ever met—could actually want someone like me…then he deserved an award. Honestly, give the man his Oscar.
But yeah…here’s to hoping most of the acting talent had gone to his brother Nash, the actual actor, and not Ian.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling me from my thoughts.
Ian: Going to run through my presentation one more time this morning. Want to head down together around nine to meet Kacie and Brock?
I smiled, my heart giving an annoyingly giddy flutter. Kacie and Brock must’ve arrived in Boston last night to prep for filming Ian’s presentation. The video would go on his YouTube channel later, showcasing his polished, confident self—the version of him the world saw.
I typed back a quick reply.
Me: Just woke up, but I’ll be ready by then.
His response came almost immediately.
Ian: Perfect. I left my adjoining door unlocked. Come in when you’re ready.
I stared at the message a second longer than necessary, my mind catching on one very specific detail.
Had he left the door unlocked all night?
The thought lingered, tempting and dangerous. Could I have opened my door at any moment, stepped into his room, and…?
I shut that train of thought down fast. No, Maddie. You absolutely should not be thinking about sneaking into Ian’s room in the middle of the night. That would be wildly unprofessional.
Though, considering I’d been making out with my boss less than twelve hours ago, maybe “professional” had already gone out the window.
Shaking my head, I climbed out of bed and headed for the shower. I chose an emerald-green dress that fit me just right—the one that always seemed to earn me compliments. It wasn’t overly fancy, but I always felt confident when I wore it…which was something that I’d need today.
Ian was going to be front and center, and if I was going to be by his side all day, I wanted to feel like I at least fit in by his side just a little.
By the time I was dressed and ready, my nerves had settled into a quiet hum. Anticipation buzzed under my skin as I smoothed my hands over the soft fabric of my dress and stepped toward the adjoining door.
For a moment, I second-guessed whether he’d actually said for me to just enter whenever. But after double checking our texts, I inhaled deeply and opened the door.
My breath hitched when I stepped inside and saw Ian standing near the fridge with a bottle of his favorite sparkling water in his hands. He stood there in a perfectly tailored designer suit, the kind that looked like it had been made just for him—because, let’s face it, it probably was. The dark gray fabric framed his broad shoulders and tall physique flawlessly, the sharp cut emphasizing his lean, powerful build. His dark hair was slightly tousled, like he’d run his fingers through it instead of bothering with a comb, and his deep brown eyes…
Well…those eyes did funny things to my insides every time they looked my way.
“Morning,” he said when he noticed me, his voice low and warm, a small, easy smile tugging at his lips.
I swallowed, willing my voice to work. “Morning.”
And just like that, the hum of anticipation turned into a quiet roar, filling every corner of my chest.
He put his water back in the fridge and turned to face me. “Let me just grab my things and then we can go.”
He strode across the room to the desk area, slipping his laptop into his leather bag. Then he looked at the mirror on the wall behind the desk and adjusted his tie. As he gave his reflection one last check, I couldn’t resist taking him in—the sharp cut of his jaw, the strong lines of his shoulders, the way he carried himself with a quiet, commanding confidence.
He looked like he belonged on the cover of some magazine, the kind of man who could walk into any room and own it without trying.
But it wasn’t just his looks or his presence that drew me to him. Beneath all the polish and power, Ian had a tenderness about him, a kindness that didn’t fit the image of the billionaire playboy the world seemed determined to see.
Watching him now, I was more certain than ever that he was the boy who had comforted me on the beach all those years ago. He couldn’t know how much that moment had meant to me. At seventeen, I’d been terrified, struggling with a secret that felt too big to carry alone. Ian had been the first person I’d told. And even though it could have gone so wrong—he could have been judgmental like so many other people in Ridgewater had been when they eventually found out about my pregnancy—he’d thankfully been a safe space that night. He’d been a gentle listener, a strong shoulder to lean on.
And even though he hadn’t swooped in to save me like some superhero in the movies, he said exactly what I’d needed to hear in that moment. He told me I’d be okay. That even though it felt like my world was falling apart, I would figure it out.
Those words had been everything. Not promises of miracles, not empty reassurances—just the steady reminder that I was stronger than I felt, and that I could take it one step at a time.
He didn’t know it, since I’d never gotten the chance to tell him, but Ian was the reason I found the courage to call my dad a few days later.
I could still remember how terrified I’d been, my heart racing as I whispered, “Dad… I’m pregnant.” But Ian’s quiet strength had become my own in that moment. His kindness, his belief in me, had given me the courage to say those daunting words to my ex-drill sergeant father. And in the years since, even as I navigated the hardest moments, I’d held onto that strength like an anchor.
“Ready to head down?” Ian’s voice broke through my thoughts, low and steady, grounding me in the present.
I turned toward him, smoothing the fabric of my dress out of habit, and froze when I saw the way he was studying me. His jaw slackened slightly, his gaze running the length of me from head to toe.
“You…” He cleared his throat, blinking a few times. “You look amazing, Maddie.”
Heat rushed to my cheeks, and I quickly looked down as I adjusted my work bag on my shoulder. “Thanks.”
He smiled, stepping closer, his presence steadying yet electric all at once. “Shall we?”
I nodded, meeting his gaze again and giving him a tentative smile of my own. “Yeah,” I said softly. “Let’s go.”
For a moment, his deep brown eyes searched mine, like there was something he wanted to say but hadn’t quite found the words for—possibly something about what had happened last night. But even though the air between us shifted, heavy with unspoken questions, he seemed to decide it was not the time for that conversation because without a word, he stepped closer and reached for my hand instead.
Which, really, was probably all the conversation we needed. The simple gesture saying more than words ever could. And as the soft weight of his hand stayed firmly in mine as he led me out of his room, hope stirred in my chest.
Because maybe—just maybe—this wasn’t the start of something fake at all.
The green room was quieter than I’d expected, the stillness broken only by the soft, rhythmic sound of Ian’s footsteps as he paced across the carpet. His usual air of confidence was absent, replaced by something I hadn’t thought I’d ever see: nerves.
Ian Hastings didn’t seem like the kind of man who got nervous. Over the past few weeks, every time his presentation had come up, he’d been calm and self-assured, never breaking stride. But now, with just fifteen minutes to go before he was supposed to take the stage, the tension in his broad shoulders and the faint crease in his brow gave him away.
But, oddly enough, it made him even more endearing.
In the corner, I’d been chatting quietly with Kacie and Brock, Ian’s videographers, as they finalized their camera setup. One positioned on stage right, the other shooting from the front. They’d decided to add the graphics from Ian’s slides during editing to make the final video look sharp and professional.
We wouldn’t be able to release the recording until six months after the summit, thanks to the contract Ian had signed. But it was exciting to think that if Ian’s new YouTube channel went viral someday, I’d have played a small part in setting this up.
The faint sound of applause from the ballroom next door interrupted our conversation, signaling the end of the previous presentation.
Kacie and Brock exchanged quick nods before turning to Ian.
“We’re heading out to get everything set up,” Kacie said, offering Ian an encouraging smile. “Break a leg out there.”
Ian returned the smile, but the tension in his expression didn’t fully fade. “Thanks.”
As Brock and Kacie left the room, I walked over to Ian, my heels sinking slightly into the carpet with each step. He stopped pacing when I approached, his dark eyes landing on me with a mix of anticipation and something I couldn’t quite place.
“Do you need anything from me?” I asked softly.
He tipped his head to the side, a flicker of amusement crossing his face. “How confident are you in your ability to teach for an hour on how business owners can thrive in any economy?”
I let out a startled laugh. “Not confident at all.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Okay, well then…maybe just send me all the good vibes you can and hope I don’t look like an idiot up there.”
“You’re not going to look like an idiot.” I smiled, hoping it came across as reassuring. “I haven’t had the chance to see one of your presentations yet, but I heard what Drake said about you in college. Something about how your talks always left everyone impressed. I’m sure you’ll do great.”
“Those classes were about a tenth the size of this event.”
I shrugged. “Still…I’m sure you’ll nail it.” Then, unable to resist, I added, “And if all else fails, don’t people always say to picture the crowd naked? Supposedly it helps.”
“You want me to picture everyone naked?” Ian’s brows shot up, and his lips curved into a wicked grin. “Does that mean I have permission to include you in that?”
“I—uh…” Heat rushed to my cheeks, my face burning as I scrambled for a response.
He chuckled, holding up a hand. “Sorry, I probably shouldn’t have said that. But…I think that actually helped my nerves a little.”
“Picturing me naked?” I blurted before I could stop myself, my voice high and squeaky.
His grin widened. “No. Just joking about it did. I was actually a gentleman in my head and haven’t tried doing that yet.”
Yet? As in…he might try doing that later?
“Well…” I swallowed hard, my words catching in my throat. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
Before either of us could say anything else, two conference organizers stepped into the room. “Mr. Hastings, the tech crew is ready for you,” one of them said with a polite smile.
“Okay.” Ian nodded, straightening his suit jacket. As he followed them toward the ballroom, I stayed close behind, my heels clicking softly on the tiled hallway floor.
At the edge of the stage, Ian paused, turning back to me. His nerves seemed to resurface for just a moment, and I acted before I could overthink it.
Standing on my toes, I pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. “Good luck,” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the crowd filtering in.
Ian turned his head slightly, his eyes locking on mine. The air between us shifted, heavy and warm, as if the rest of the room had melted away.
“Thanks,” he mumbled, his gaze lingering a second longer before he stepped onto the stage.
I slipped into a seat on the far side of the front row, pulling out my phone to record some footage for his social media accounts. My heart raced as I focused the camera on him, anticipation buzzing under my skin.
Ian Hastings might have been nervous, but as the spotlight hit him and he started to speak, it was clear to everyone in the room that he belonged up there.