36. Maddie
36
MADDIE
“Hey, Ian,” I said, balancing the phone against my ear as I folded one of the blankets in my dad’s hospital room. The nurse had wheeled him out a few minutes ago, saying they would be gone for about fifteen minutes to get some fresh air.
“Hey. I wanted to give you a heads-up.” Ian’s voice came through steady, though there was a faint edge of concern. “Marsha from HR might try calling you today. I just had a meeting with her and I think she’s going to want to meet with you when you get back to work in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh, I actually already heard from her this morning.” I paused, smoothing the folded blanket and setting it on the foot of the hospital bed. “We have a video call scheduled for this afternoon when I’m at my dad’s house and have decent Wi-Fi.”
“You’re heading to your dad’s house?” There was a beat of hesitation in his tone, like he wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or not.
“Lexi and Noah are taking over the next shift here so I can go back and get his house tidied up and ready for when he comes home.”
“Does that mean you know when he’s getting discharged?”
A small smile crept onto my lips, the weight in my chest lifting slightly. “The nurses said tomorrow, as long as he behaves and takes it easy.”
“That’s amazing,” Ian said, the warmth in his voice like a balm to my frayed nerves because he actually cared—not just about my dad, but about what this meant for me. And that care, so genuine and unforced, made my heart ache in the best possible way.
“Yeah,” I said softly, my fingers brushing over the corner of the blanket. “It’s such a relief.”
A moment of quiet settled between us before Ian’s voice came through again, lower now, more serious. “Listen, Maddie…I just want to say I’m sorry for dragging you into all of this. You’ve already been dealing with so much, and then I go and make everything worse. If you’re mad at me—or if you want to quit—I get it. I’ll give you the best recommendation I can…though, with the headlines, I’m not sure how much that would help.”
I let out a small laugh, even as a knot of tension twisted in my stomach. “It’s fine, Ian. Not fun or ideal, but I’ll survive. I just hope people don’t think I was trying to, you know, sleep my way to a big raise.”
The other end of the line went completely silent, and for a moment, I thought maybe I’d shocked him into speechlessness. A smile tugged at my lips as I teasingly added, “It’s nice to be the one throwing the shocking comments around for once. Usually, that’s your job.”
His chuckle came a second later, awkward and warm, and I imagined him running a hand over the back of his neck. “You caught me off guard, that’s all.”
His voice, his laugh, everything about him made my heart squeeze, and for a moment, I let myself revel in how much I liked talking to him. Even with everything going on, it was moments like this—easy, light, filled with something I couldn’t quite name—that made the world brighter.
I considered asking if “sleeping my way to a raise” was actually on the table, just to see how Ian would respond, but I held back. That was a line I better not cross—not when my mind was already doing a poor job of keeping things professional. Thinking about Ian in strictly work-related terms had become almost impossible, thanks to the way his kisses had burned themselves into my memory.
The thought of our last kiss—the way his hands had gripped my hips, his body pressing me firmly against the wall—flashed vividly in my mind. Heat surged up my neck, and I had to force myself to focus. “So, uh…exactly how much detail did you have to go into during your interview with Marsha? Does she know the…full extent of our interactions? Or did you keep it mostly about the fake engagement?”
There was a pause, and I could hear Ian exhale softly before he answered. “I told her how the situation came about. And…” His voice dipped slightly, like he wasn’t thrilled about what he had to say next. “And I mentioned that we kissed. A few times. But that it didn’t go further than that.”
“Okay.” The word came out quieter than I’d intended, and my cheeks burned as my heart thudded harder in my chest. This was the first time we’d actually acknowledged those kisses out loud.
Had he thought about them as much as I had? Had they left the same lingering effect on him, the same spark that felt impossible to extinguish? I hoped so.
But then again, I’d been wrong before. I’d let myself believe things were one way when they weren’t—like I had with Jaxon, spending nearly a decade thinking he might someday love me enough to marry me. That he’d see me as something more than the mother of his child.
The memory stabbed at me, but I shoved it aside. I couldn’t dwell on that now. Not when there were more pressing things to worry about, like keeping my job and salvaging my reputation. I just hoped Ian’s family and the people at work didn’t look at the shopping spree, the ring, and the headlines and think I was trying to gold-dig my way into the Hastingses’ family fortune.
“Thanks for the heads-up,” I said finally, my voice steadier than I felt. “I better get going. I need to head to my dad’s house and prep for the call.”
“Of course.” Ian’s tone softened. “Good luck with it. And…let me know how it goes, okay?”
“I will.”
As I hung up, I exhaled a shaky breath and stared at the screen for a moment, my thoughts swirling. If I could just get through this call with HR without losing my job, then maybe I’d have a chance at figuring out if I had a future with my boss.
I sat at my dad’s kitchen table later that afternoon, the faint hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the otherwise quiet house. My laptop sat open in front of me, the camera angled just right, though I’d already checked it at least three times.
I’d told myself to stay calm, but as Marsha’s face appeared on the screen, my stomach twisted into knots.
Hopefully, I don’t screw this up.
“Good afternoon, Maddie,” she said, her tone calm but focused. “Thank you for taking the time for this meeting today.”
“Of course,” I said, clasping my hands in my lap to keep them from fidgeting. “Thank you for being flexible with the video call.”
“No problem. We want to make this as smooth as possible.” She smiled slightly, adjusting her glasses. “Now, if you’re ready, we’ll go ahead and begin.”
I nodded, my heart thudding against my ribs.
“First,” she began, glancing at her notes, “can you explain how the decision to go along with the engagement story came about? Did you feel pressured or obligated to agree?”
I exhaled slowly, my mind flashing back to that first moment in the restaurant when Ian had introduced me as his fiancée. “It was spur-of-the-moment,” I said, keeping my voice steady. “Ian ran into someone he knew—an ex—and it seemed like he panicked. He introduced me as his fiancée before I could process what was happening. Later, he asked if I’d be okay playing along for the duration of the summit to keep things from getting awkward. I didn’t feel pressured exactly. He asked, and I agreed.”
Marsha’s pen moved over her notepad as she nodded. “Did Ian at any point suggest, imply, or directly state that this was necessary for your job or advancement at the company?”
“No,” I said firmly. “He made it clear that it was entirely my choice.”
Her gaze lifted, steady but not unkind. “Were there any instances where you felt uncomfortable or unsure about your role in this arrangement? If so, how did Ian respond?”
I hesitated, chewing the inside of my cheek. “There were moments,” I admitted. “It’s not every day you pretend to be engaged to your boss, so it was a little weird at times. But Ian was always respectful. If I’d said I wasn’t okay with something, I believe he would’ve listened.”
She nodded again. “Can you confirm whether any physical or romantic interactions occurred between you two during the summit? If so, were they consensual?”
My face heated. “There were…a few kisses,” I said, my voice quieter now. “But they were consensual.”
Marsha made another note. “Do you feel that Ian’s position of authority influenced your decisions during this past week?”
I thought about it, running my finger over a scratch in the table’s surface. “I don’t think so,” I said finally. “I didn’t agree to this because he’s my boss. I agreed because I thought it was harmless at the time.”
“Were there any moments where Ian acted in a way that made you feel pressured or uncomfortable?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “He was…considerate. I never felt pressured.”
Marsha looked at me carefully, as though trying to gauge my sincerity. “Do you believe this situation has impacted your ability to perform your role effectively?”
I hesitated, then nodded. “It’s been a distraction, for sure. And with the rumors spreading, it’s hard not to worry about how people at work will perceive me now.”
“Have you experienced any backlash or unprofessional treatment from colleagues because of this situation?”
“Not yet,” I admitted. “But I haven’t been back to work since the summit, so I guess I don’t really know what to expect.”
“Do you feel safe and supported in your position at the company?”
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve only been with the company a short time, but I’ve never felt unsafe.”
“And how would you like to proceed professionally after this situation?” Marsha leaned back slightly, her pen pausing mid-air before she folded her hands on the desk. “Are there any accommodations or changes you’d request?”
I considered the question, the weight of it settling heavily over me. “I just…I want to do my job. I want to move past this and not have it hanging over me—or Ian—for the rest of my time at the company.”
“Thank you for your honesty, Maddie.” Marsha gave a small nod, her expression still neutral. “I’ll be reviewing this meeting with the board, and you can expect a follow-up call in the next day or two to go over their findings.”
“Okay.” I nodded, managing a small, tight smile. “Thank you.”
The call ended abruptly, the screen going blank before I could even process the past fifteen minutes. Marsha didn’t mess around—she’d gotten straight to the point, just like she had in my previous two job interviews and during the hiring process. No fluff, no wasted words. And, really, what else should I have expected?
I reached for my phone, the familiar weight of it grounding me as I typed a quick message to Ian.
Me: Just finished the HR interview. Wow, they really wanted to dig into everything, didn’t they?
Of course, I understood why HR had to ask all those questions—it was to make sure I was safe, that nothing inappropriate had happened. But wow, having to tell the person who’d interviewed and hired me just weeks ago that I’d turned around and kissed my boss in his hotel suite?
Probably not a great look.
Maybe I should just save everyone the awkwardness and quit.
If I moved back to Ridgewater, I could help my dad recover without him feeling the need to uproot his entire life and move to Eden Falls. And it would save me the trouble of finding a place for Grant and me, especially since I hadn’t gotten far in that process anyway.
Sure, I had wanted to move away from Ridgewater for a fresh start. But now, after making headlines, I’d probably just get the same whispers and weird looks in Eden Falls—or even New Haven. So, what was the point?
I sighed, setting my phone down and leaning back in my chair. The kitchen was quiet, the faint ticking of the wall clock the only sound. I pressed my fingers against my temples, trying to push away the spiraling thoughts.
I was still trying to sort through my thoughts when my phone buzzed. Ian’s name lit up the screen.
“Hey,” Ian said, his voice steady but with a slight edge of concern. “I saw your text. I’ve got a few minutes between meetings and wanted to check in. How are you doing? Was Marsha rough on you?”
“She wasn’t too bad,” I said, closing the screen on my laptop. “Just asked all the same kinds of questions she probably asked you.”
“Yeah,” he said, his voice tinged with something I couldn’t quite place. “Do you know how long it’ll be before you get any updates?”
I hesitated. “She said they’d follow up in the next couple of days. But…do you really think I’ll still have a job after this?”
“They can’t fire you for this,” he said firmly.
“Can’t they?” I let out a humorless laugh. “I saw a few of the headlines before I deleted my social media apps, Ian. If the board saw any of those suspicions that I conned you into proposing because I had my eyes on your money, don’t you think they’ll be worried about my trustworthiness?”
“That’s ridiculous,” Ian said. “Since the board will know the actual truth—that the engagement was fake. And it was me who actually conned you into playing along.”
I pinched the bridge of my nose, a headache forming as I tried to keep the different versions of our story straight.
“But what if the board finds out about the part where I kissed you at the club before I knew you were my boss? Someone could’ve taken a video, Ian. If that goes public, it’s going to look like I knew exactly who you were and that I was attempting to seduce you before we even had the whole forced-proximity/forbidden-boss-romance trope going on.”
There was a short pause. Then in a confused tone, he asked, “What do you mean by us having the forced-proximity trope going on? What are you even talking about?”
“Sorry, I forget our social-media algorithms are different.” I chuckled. “I’m not just in the ‘fall enthusiast’ algorithm. I’m deep into ‘Bookstagram’—specifically, the romance-book-lover world. We describe love stories with tropes.”
“Okay…” Ian sounded bemused.
“So I’m guessing that you don’t know what a book trope is?”
“I mean…” He hesitated. “There was a girl who threw a paperback at me during a breakup, yelling that I was nothing like the hero in her billionaire romance novel. Does that count?”
I laughed, the tension in my chest easing. “Not exactly, but close enough.”
“Well, I guess I’ve been stuck in the business non-fiction section too long,” he said. “Not much romance in quarterly earnings reports.”
“That checks out,” I teased.
“Hey,” he said, his tone lightening. “I just made it back to my desk. Can I FaceTime you?”
I glanced at my reflection in the mirror across the room. I’d cleaned up a bit before my interview with Marsha, but if I’d known Ian would be wanting to see me, I probably would have taken the time to add another coat of mascara.
But I should probably care less about how attractive my boss found me since just having a job should be my main concern at the moment. So I smoothed down my hair quickly and said, “Sure.”
His FaceTime request came through a second later, and my heart did a little flip when his face filled the screen. His sharp features and warm brown eyes looked as handsome as ever, and his easy smile made something in my chest flutter.
“Hi,” he said, his voice softening. His gaze flicked down, and his grin widened. “Wearing the green dress again?”
I glanced down, realizing I was wearing the emerald-green dress I’d worn on Friday. “All my other work clothes are at Sloan’s,” I said, suddenly self-conscious.
“I like it,” he interrupted, his tone sincere. “That color looks really good on you.”
A memory of the morning I’d first worn this dress flashed in my mind—the day he gave his big presentation and took me shopping. It had been a good day.
“So,” he said, leaning slightly closer to the screen, “since you’re into book tropes and romance novels, have you read anything good lately?”
I laughed. “I just finished a boss romance I’d started before the summit. It was pretty good.”
“Boss romance, huh?” His grin turned teasing. “Would you say that’s a favorite trope?”
“It has a certain appeal, I suppose.” My cheeks warmed.
His smile deepened. “Good. Because if I was going to pick up a romance novel right now, I’d want one about a cute single mom moving to a new city and getting into a fake relationship with her boss.”
I gasped. “So you have heard of book tropes.”
“Maybe I did a little research in college.” He shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Wanted to know what women are looking for in an ideal man.”
“Of course you would!” I laughed.
“Hey,” he said, his grin widening. “It’s like a cheat sheet on how to get the girl to fall in love with you.”
“Which you’ve clearly been a master student of,” I teased. “Considering how many girls have fallen for you.”
He shrugged, his gaze softening. “Now I just need it to work on the right girl.”
His words, paired with the way he looked at me through the screen, sent goosebumps racing over my skin.
And oh, how much I wanted that girl to be me. The realization was so sharp, so visceral, it left me breathless. I wanted it so much it physically ached.
Ian cleared his throat and his expression shifted to something almost hesitant, as if he was choosing his next words carefully. “So, uh…I’ve been curious about your plans for lodging in Eden Falls.”
“Lodging?” I asked, his sudden change in topic catching me off guard.
He winced slightly, as if he knew how awkward that sounded. “I mean…are you still looking for a place there?”
“Yeah.” I nodded, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear. “That is, as long as I still have a job to go back to, then yeah, I think Eden Falls is where I want to stay. The twenty-minute commute to work isn’t bad, and Grant seems to really like it there. It’s just about finding the right kind of place.”
“What are you looking for, exactly?” Ian tilted his head, his brows pulling together slightly.
“Two bedrooms would be nice.” I shrugged, leaning back in my chair. “Since sharing a bed with an eight-year-old who has wrestling matches in his sleep isn’t exactly restful.”
“Yeah, I get that.” He chuckled, the warm sound making my stomach flutter.
“And I guess I’ve been hoping for a place with a yard,” I continued. “We probably won’t be able to get any pets like Grant wants until I buy a place, but…having some space for him to run around in would be nice.”
Ian’s expression brightened slightly. “Cool. If you’d like, I can talk to my parents. They own a few properties in town and might know of something coming up.”
“Oh, no,” I said quickly, shaking my head. “You don’t need to ask them to help me. I mean…they probably don’t exactly like me right now, considering I’m involved in all this drama with you.”
“Drama because of me,” Ian corrected, his voice firm but kind. “And they’re not as scary as they seem, I promise.”
I gave him a skeptical look. “Yeah…you billionaires aren’t intimidating at all.”
His chuckle was low and genuine, and despite myself, I couldn’t help but smile.
He glanced at his watch, his expression softening with regret. “Ah, my two-thirty appointment starts soon. I better let you go. But I’ll make sure to call as soon as I hear anything from HR or the board.”
“Okay,” I said, nodding. A swell of nerves tightened in my chest, but his steady gaze made it a little easier to breathe. “I’ll talk to you later.”