Chapter 30 – Madeline
I woke up groggy, the soft light filtering in from the window making me squint as I shifted on the couch. The cushions weren’t exactly the most comfortable, and my neck ached from the awkward angle I’d fallen asleep in. I hadn’t meant to stay out here, but somewhere between closing my laptop and letting exhaustion pull me under, I hadn’t managed to make it back to the bedroom.
The sound of footsteps pulled me from my haze, and I cracked my eyes open to see Jaxon standing in the doorway. His hair was tousled in a way that was giving more adorable Labrador than mean old grizzly bear , though his sharp, assessing eyes were all business despite the early hour.
As he looked at me, the dim light from the hallway caught on the messy strands of his hair and the slight stubble on his jaw, making him look almost boyish for once.
“Scout,” he said, his voice low, a mix of curiosity and concern. “Why are you out here?”
I pushed myself up, running a hand through my own hair to smooth it down. “Fell asleep working,” I mumbled, avoiding his gaze.
He crossed his arms, “You’re not a great liar, you know that?”
My stomach twisted at the weight of his stare. He always seemed to see right through me, and I wasn’t ready for this conversation — not now, not yet.
“I was tired,” I said, brushing past him as I stood, forcing my tone to stay light. “That’s all.”
He didn’t move, his gaze following me as I walked toward the guest bedroom. “Maddie,” he said softly, his voice making me pause. “What’s wrong?”
I turned, plastering on a small smile. “Nothing. I’m fine. I’ve got brunch with Quinn. I should get ready.”
His brow furrowed, and for a moment, it looked like he might press me further. But then he nodded, stepping aside to let me pass.
I closed the bedroom door behind me, leaning against it for a second as I let out a shaky breath.
I hated fobbing him off like that, but I wasn’t ready to tell him what I’d discovered.
I crossed the room to grab my clothes, pulling out something simple but presentable — a casual sundress that felt appropriate for brunch at the club with some black boots. As I changed, I tried to push away the weight of everything I was carrying.
I needed to focus on Quinn, on pretending that everything was normal, even if my chest felt like it was being crushed by the secrets I was holding.
As I smoothed out my dress and caught my reflection in the mirror, I couldn’t shake the way Jaxon had looked at me — like he knew something wasn’t right, like he wasn’t going to let it go.
Deep down, I knew I wouldn’t be able to keep this from him for long.
The threats had been hanging over me for weeks and weeks.
How had I not seen it before? Surely, I wasn’t that dumb that I didn’t see the signs? Or had I just chosen to ignore them because Jaxon had told me to stop thinking Sean was weird?
“He’s not weird, Maddie,” Jaxon had said once, his tone firm but edged with something softer . “He’s just... damaged. A little rough around the edges, like we all are when we come back. That doesn’t mean he’s dangerous.”
Now, looking back, I wondered if Jaxon had been trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince me.
Sean wasn’t just damaged. The cocky smirk, the too-slick charm, the way he always seemed to hover in the background like he was listening, waiting — it had all been there.
A million little red flags I’d brushed off because I didn’t want to make waves, didn’t want to challenge Jax more than I already had.
A shiver ran through me as I thought about how close he’d already gotten — closer than I’d realized until now. He knew where I lived. He knew my routines, my connections, and worse, he knew Jax.
Jaxon had done everything to protect me, to make sure I was safe, and now I was holding onto a secret that could destroy the fragile peace we’d built together.
I pressed my palms against the dresser, staring at my reflection as if I could find answers there. I couldn’t let Sean win, couldn’t let his threats dictate my life. But I also couldn’t ignore the very real danger that hung over me like a storm cloud.
I emerged from the guest room, my footsteps quiet on the hardwood floors as I made my way back toward the kitchen. The weight of the dog tags around my neck was both grounding and comforting, the cool metal brushing against my skin. I’d worn them every day since Jaxon had given them to me, and today was no different.
My hand trailed absently over the counter as I reached for my handbag, letting my fingers graze the smooth surface as if I needed something solid to hold onto. My hair, braided neatly, fell over one of my bare shoulders.
Jaxon was still leaning against the doorway to the living room when I returned, his arms crossed as he watched me, his eyes scanning me with an intensity I could never quite get used to. His gaze lingered on the dog tags, and a flicker of something softened his features.
“You look beautiful,” he said, his voice low and steady, though I could sense the unspoken question beneath his words.
“Thank you,” I slipped the strap of my bag over my shoulder, keeping my tone light as I avoided his eyes.
“You’re going to brunch with Quinn?” he asked, his voice casual, but his posture was anything but.
“Yep.” I forced a smile, brushing past him toward the door. “She’ll kill me if I’m late.”
Jaxon didn’t move, his presence a wall of quiet concern. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
I hesitated, gripping the strap of my bag a little tighter. The truth hovered on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed it back, plastering on a brighter smile instead.
“I’m fine. Just tired. Brunch will perk me up. You did keep me up past my bedtime last night, remember?” I quipped, trying to add some of our normal back-and-forth into the conversation.
Jaxon’s lips twitched, the faintest hint of a smirk breaking through his otherwise serious expression.
As I reached for the doorknob, Jaxon’s voice stopped me.
“Scout.”
I turned, my heart catching at the way he looked at me, his expression both guarded and vulnerable.
He moved from the doorframe, his movements slow, and casually lifted my denim jacket from its place hanging over one of the breakfast nook stools.
“Take a jacket, it’s cold out,” he said, holding it out to me with that understated protectiveness that always managed to unravel me.
I hesitated for a second, the small, ordinary gesture sinking deeper than it should have. Jaxon wasn’t flashy with his care — it was in the little things, like this, that he showed how much he paid attention.
I took the jacket from him, slipping it on over my shoulders. “Thanks,” I murmured, offering him a small smile.
“You got an Uber?” he asked, his tone casual, but his eyes told me he wasn’t just making small talk.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Driver’s already on their way.”
His eyes lingered on me for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. There was something in his gaze that made my chest tighten, as if he wanted to say more but was holding back.
Finally, he stepped back toward the kitchen, his hand brushing the counter as he turned. “I’ll be at work in a couple of hours. Wait for me?”
The question hung in the air, soft but laced with meaning.
I nodded, the knot in my throat making it hard to respond. “Of course.”
His lips twitched into the faintest hint of a smile before he turned away, leaving me standing by the door with a mix of emotions swirling in my chest.
As I stepped outside, the early morning air nipped at my skin, but the jacket’s warmth settled around me like a quiet reminder of him. The dog tags clinked softly as I slid into the waiting car, their weight heavier today than usual.
Wait for him.
I would — for now. But with everything I’d uncovered, I couldn’t shake the feeling that waiting wasn’t an option anymore. The truth was coming, whether I was ready or not.
When I arrived at the club, the familiar buzz of music and chatter greeted me, Club V in the daytime felt like catching a magician mid-trick, the illusion stripped away to reveal the mechanics underneath.
Quinn, of course, was the exception.
She sat perched on one of the plush barstools like she owned the place, her short legs crossed, and a bright smile on her face as she spotted me.
She looked like a literal smoke show, dressed in a fitted, jewel-toned mini-dress that shimmered under the soft lighting. Her hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders like she’d just stepped out of a high-end salon, and a pair of statement heels completed the look.
Quinn always had a way of making even the most casual outings feel like red carpet events, and today was no different.
“You’re late ,” she teased as I approached, her voice light and sing-songy. She held up a cocktail, already half-empty, the pale pink liquid sparkling in the glass. “And here I thought I’d have to drink alone.”
I rolled my eyes, sliding onto the stool beside her. “You’ve clearly managed just fine without me.”
She grinned, taking a slow sip of her drink before setting it down with a flourish. “I like to set the tone early. Besides, it’s my day off — I deserve to feel fabulous.”
“You look it,” I said honestly, glancing down at my own outfit. My sundress suddenly felt understated compared to Quinn’s full glam, but she had that effect on everyone.
She waved a hand, dismissing the compliment like it was a given. “Flattery will get you everywhere, sweet girl. As you know. Now, what are you drinking?”
“Probably just coffee,” I replied with a laugh.
“Coffee?” Quinn gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Maddie, it’s brunch , not a PTA meeting. Live a little!”
I shook my head, smiling despite myself as she flagged down the bartender. “Fine. Surprise me.”
As the bartender got to work, Quinn turned back to me, her expression softening slightly. “You okay? You look a little... distracted.”
I hesitated, the weight of the morning still pressing on my chest. “I’m fine,” I said quickly, forcing a smile. “Just tired. Jax kept me up late.”
“ Yeah, he did… ” she quipped with a giggle, licking her lips slyly before shaking her head, her hair shimmering in the light. “Honestly, Mads, I don’t know how you can even sit here with a straight face after that. If I had a man like Jackie keeping me up, I’d be insufferable.”
I rolled my eyes, trying and failing to suppress a laugh. “Quinn, you’re already insufferable.”
“Touché,” she said, lifting her cocktail in a mock toast.
Just then, the heavy doors to the club swung open, and a tall, lean man stepped inside. His impeccably tailored suit caught the light, the subtle sheen of the fabric hinting at its price tag. Light brown hair, styled in that deliberately messy way meant to look effortless, crowned his sharp features. He had an air of quiet confidence, the kind that turned heads without trying too hard.
His eyes skimmed the room with practiced ease, scanning the tables and the bar like he was looking for someone. When his gaze landed on Quinn, a flicker of surprise passed through his expression — so quick I might have missed it if I hadn’t been watching closely.
Quinn noticed him too, her drink paused halfway to her lips. For a split second, her usual playful smirk faltered, replaced by something unreadable. But before I could comment, his gaze shifted, falling away from her as another figure entered the room.
Declan Frost.
The club owner strode in with his usual presence, the kind that made people straighten in their seats without realizing it. Declan’s suit was darker, understated but no less sharp, and his piercing eyes scanned the room like he owned it — which, of course, he did .
Declan’s friend – apparently — greeted him with a casual nod, and the two exchanged a few words, their conversation quiet but familiar. There was an ease to their interaction, like they’d known each other for years.
Quinn cleared her throat, pulling my attention back to her. She was twirling the straw in her empty glass, her expression carefully neutral.
“Friend of the boss?” I asked, keeping my voice light, though curiosity tugged at me.
“Something like that,” she said, her tone clipped as she signalled the bartender for another drink.
I tilted my head, studying her. Quinn was rarely this reserved, especially when it came to attractive men in expensive suits. “Do you know him?”
She let out a breath, tossing her straw onto the napkin beside her empty glass. “Ronan Hayes,” she said, her tone casual, but the slight tension in her shoulders remained.
“Should I know that name?” I asked, glancing toward where Ronan and Declan were now deep in conversation.
Quinn shrugged, twirling a lock of her hair around her finger. “Probably. He’s the CEO of some big tech empire — don’t ask me which one, I can’t keep them straight. He’s one of those guys who’s friends with important people, though. Old money vibes but way more charming.”
I raised an eyebrow, leaning in a little closer. “And he’s friends with Declan?”
“Yeah,” she said, signalling the bartender for another drink. “They go way back to business school or something. Ronan and his brother emigrated from Ireland when they were in their early twenties, and he and Declan have been tight ever since. Bonded over Declan’s Irish roots too, I guess. You know how Declan is — he doesn’t let just anyone into his circle.”
I glanced back at Ronan, watching the way he carried himself. There was an easy confidence in the way he spoke to Declan, the kind of natural charisma that probably made boardrooms fall silent when he entered. He looked polished but not stiff, approachable but with an edge.
“And how do you know all of this?” I asked, turning back to Quinn with a pointed look.
She rolled her eyes, her smirk returning. “Declan likes to talk sometimes when he’s had a few drinks. And Ronan’s been around here enough that you pick up on things.”
She leaned back, crossing her legs as she gestured toward Ronan with her drink. “The guy’s a bit of a jerk, though. Big tipper, so I take his idiocy and swallow it, but trust me, he’s not as charming as he thinks he is.”
I blinked at her bluntness, suppressing a laugh. “So, you don’t like him?”
“I don’t dislike him,” Quinn said, her smirk deepening. “But he’s one of those guys who’s too used to getting what he wants, you know? Probably hasn’t heard the word ‘no’ in a decade, if ever.”
I followed her gaze toward Ronan, who was now gesturing animatedly as Declan nodded along. “And yet, you’re still sitting here spilling all his secrets,” I teased.
“Like I said, big tipper,” she quipped with a shrug. “The man can afford my patience.”
Her playful tone was back, but there was something in the way she said it — like she’d had to tolerate more from Ronan than she was letting on.
“Is he really that bad?” I asked, leaning closer.
Quinn’s smirk softened slightly, her voice dropping just enough that only I could hear. “No, just... complicated. And complicated’s not my thing.”
I raised an eyebrow at her, filing away the note of hesitation in her voice for later. Complicated wasn’t typically a word Quinn used to describe anyone unless there was history there. And by the way her gaze flicked back to Ronan, I couldn’t help but think there was more to their story than she wanted to admit.
Ronan and Declan began making their way across the floor, their polished shoes clicking softly against the tile as they moved toward the door that led to the stairs to Declan’s office. Their conversation seemed easy, familiar, but there was an intensity in Ronan’s expression, like he was already strategizing whatever business they were about to discuss.
As they passed by, Ronan’s gaze flicked to Quinn again, lingering just long enough to make it clear that it wasn’t accidental. His expression didn’t change much — just the faintest arch of an eyebrow, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes — but it was enough to catch my attention.
Quinn, for her part, didn’t react outwardly. She kept her focus on her drink, lifting it to her lips with a practiced ease that suggested she hadn’t even noticed him. But I knew better. The way her shoulders stiffened ever so slightly and her fingers tightened on the stem of her glass told me she was very aware of his presence.
Ronan’s gaze slid away as quickly as it had landed, his attention snapping back to Declan as they reached the door. Without a word, the two men disappeared through it, leaving the air in their wake heavier than before.
I turned to Quinn, my curiosity bubbling over. “Okay, what was that?”
“What was what?” she replied, her tone so casual it was almost convincing.
I raised an eyebrow, tilting my head toward the now-closed door. “That look he gave you. Twice. Don’t act like you didn’t see it.”
Quinn shrugged, twirling her straw in her empty glass. “I saw it. So what? Guys like him always think they’re entitled to a little extra attention.”
I studied her carefully, noting the slight flush in her cheeks, the way her fingers moved just a little too quickly. “You sure there’s nothing else going on there?”
Her smirk reappeared, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I told you, Mads. The guy’s a bit of an ass. A rich, good-looking jerk, but still a billionaire playboy piece of shit. I take his bullshit and smile because he tips well. That’s all there is to it.”
Her tone was light, dismissive, but I couldn’t ignore the way she avoided my gaze. There was more to this story — there had to be.
Judging by the way Ronan had looked at her? I wasn’t the only one who thought so.