4. Chapter 4 #2
“Don't deflect.” She stepped into the corridor and pulled her door half-closed behind her, keeping her voice low. “How long has this been going on?”
“Maddie—”
“How long?”
He should lie. He was an excellent liar when the occasion called for it. Years of charm and misdirection had made it second nature. But Maddie had known him since they were children. She'd shared his bed. She knew every trick he had because she'd been there when he learned most of them.
“A few nights.” He leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. “It's not what you think.”
“It's not? Because what I think is that you're sneaking around a house party with your closest friend's unmarried sister while her mother is three corridors away. You can’t keep your eyes off of her, and I imagine your hands, as well.”
He didn't have a response to that. Mostly because it was accurate.
Maddie's expression shifted. The sharpness stayed, but something else crept in underneath—something that looked like genuine concern, and that was worse than the teasing.
“When I ended our arrangement, I told you why,” she said. “Do you remember?”
“Of course. You have always been in love with John. And I am happy for you. You know that, don’t you? John is perfect for you.”
“I know that.” She stepped closer, lowering her voice. “What I’m trying to say is that our arrangement was so that I could avoid the pain of admitting what I actually wanted. Because facing your fears is terrifying.” She held his gaze. “You told me I was brave. Do you remember that?”
He did. He also remembered it being a great deal easier to say that when it was someone else's life on the table, and not his own.
“That's not what this is,” he said. “We have an arrangement. It's physical. It ends when the party ends.”
“Whose terms are those?”
“Hers.”
“And you're content with them?”
He shrugged. “They're sensible terms.”
“That's not what I asked you.” Maddie stepped closer. “Are you content with them, Louis? Does physical and temporary feel like enough? Is that truly what you want for yourself? I know now that it would have never been enough for me.”
He didn't need anyone. He never had. Not in the way Maddie was implying.
His father had taught him that lesson before Louis was old enough to understand why, and time had proven the old man right.
People left. Women left. The ones who stayed wanted something from you.
The ones who didn't want anything were the most dangerous of all, because they made you forget the lesson. He wouldn’t allow himself to risk his heart in that way.
“Louis.” Maddie's voice pulled him back. “You didn't answer me.”
“Because I don't need to.” He pushed off the wall and straightened his coat, pulling the charm back into place, the way he'd done a thousand times.
“Georgie and I have an understanding. We enjoy each other's company. When the party ends, we will part ways and things will go back to the way they were. That is all there is to it.”
“You don't seriously believe that.”
“I do. Because that is how these things work, Maddie. You and I managed it for years without complication.”
“And I just told you that I was hiding from what I actually wanted that entire time.” Her voice was quiet now, and that was unsettling. “I don't want you to do the same.”
“I'm not hiding from anything. There is nothing to hide from.” He held her gaze and willed himself to mean it. “I enjoy her. She enjoys me. Max never finds out, and then my life will continue on. That is all I want.”
Maddie studied him for a long moment. Then she shook her head and reached for her door. “Just keep lying to yourself, Louis.”
The door clicked shut.
Louis stood in the corridor and waited for the irritation to subside. Maddie meant well. She always did. But she was wrong about this. She'd found her great love with John, and now she saw romance everywhere she looked. That was Maddie's problem, not his.
He didn't do love. He did charm and wit and good company and excellent sex, and when it was over, he moved on without leaving a mark or carrying his own. That was the arrangement he'd made with himself long before Georgie Whitmore climbed into his lap. One house party wasn't going to change it.
He walked to his chamber and went inside. The fire had burned low. Max's letter sat on the desk in the same spot. Louis picked it up and read the words he'd memorized days ago.
I don’t want some libertine taking advantage of her.
He set it back down. He wasn't taking advantage.
She'd come to him. She'd set the terms. She was a grown woman who knew what she wanted, and what she wanted was exactly what he was giving her—something physical, something temporary, something that didn't require either of them to crack themselves open and show the mess inside.
This was simple. He was going to keep it simple.
He changed out of his evening clothes, sat on the edge of his bed, and stared at the door. He should lock it. That would be the smart thing. After the near disaster in the alcove, he should turn the key and put an end to whatever madness had taken hold of him this week.
His hand didn't move toward the lock.
Because Georgie would come, and when she did, he would let her in.
Not because he needed her—he didn't need anyone that way. What they were doing felt good—arguably the best he’d ever had—and he enjoyed her company.
There was no reason to deny himself something enjoyable when she'd made it clear the terms suited her just fine.
That was all it was.