Chapter Sixteen #2
The four-story brick building is wrapped in front windows and climbing ivy, allowing sunlight to spill inside with effortless ease while the glass mirrors what few clouds float through the morning sky.
From outside, you can only just see the slight movement of Maddie’s staff from within, the building wider than it is tall, hinting at the possibility of there being more space inside than what appears on the outside.
If the classy signs above the doorway and blown up on the side of the building hadn’t revealed the building belongs to Maddie, each one printed with her and the company’s name, then the entire exterior would have certainly given it away.
It screams Madison Fowler in ways I can’t even explain.
“You coming?” I hear her ask, and I flash her a smile before following after her, watching as she scans her badge at the door. After spotting my questioning expression, she shrugs and admits, “All of my employees have one, too. It keeps the riffraff out.”
“Had a lot of riffraff to deal with?” I question, watching as she tucks the simple lanyard back in her purse.
With a shake of her head, she answers, “Not really. There was just this one time a crazy guy we thought was homeless but was actually just crazy wandered in and decided to make the lounge his new abode. The guy straight up wouldn’t leave.
We had to get the police involved and everything.
I put a security system and badge-operated entrance on the door after that. ”
Nodding slowly, not feeling the surprise I should at hearing something chaotic coming from her mouth, I continue following Madison through the lobby that feels more like a creative loft than an office.
As expected, sunlight pours through the massive front windows, washing the dark-wood flooring and soft linen furniture in gold.
Greenery is scattered all over the place, plants spilling from all available shelves and flat surfaces, while photography books lie in artsy stacks on the reception desk and coffee tables nearby.
The walls are decorated with more of the same style of photographs I spotted in Maddie’s apartment, and I realize then that there’s a high chance she snapped those photos herself.
The only thing that seems completely out of place is the woman seated behind the reception desk wearing a godawful neon-pink suit with a matching shirt and wedding hat. I dread to think what shoes she’s wearing.
“Hey, Lily! Nice getup,” Maddie winks over at the woman, who stares at the walking human sunshine beside me with squinted eyes, as though she’s looking directly into the sun.
“Uh, likewise?” Lily responds, though it sounds more like a question than it does a reply.
With twitching lips, I look around again, feeling the comfortable but classy vibe Madison has clearly gone for and achieved.
I wander away from Maddie as she talks to her receptionist, hearing her laughter fade as I walk toward a set of photos hanging on a nearby wall.
In them is a couple I’d recognize anywhere, a black-and-white snap of two famous celebrities who share the same last name as Maddie.
Her parents are laughing in the photo, dressed in smart-casual wear, each with an arm wrapped around the other while Sasha Fowler fights against her husband’s attack on her oversized floppy hat.
In the other black-and-white photo is a group of beautiful women in black suits that all look different but mesh well with one another.
I spot Maddie instantly, her beaming grin pointed at the camera while one of the women I assume is her best friend grins at her with her arm wrapped around her waist. The other two are seated in front of the pair, the one with red hair laughing up at her friends while the other face-plants with a smile that is still visible through the photo.
They look as close as I am with Rayne, Baxter, and Caiden, a tight group of friends that evidently love one another.
It does something to me, seeing her surrounded by love, the carefree and fun personality I’m learning about shining through the photo as plain as day, but I have no idea why I’m reacting that way to a woman I barely know.
“Whatcha think?” the woman in question wonders as she sidles up close to me, bumping her elbow with mine as she watches me for a reaction.
Flashing her a grin, I confess, “I’m pretty impressed, actually. It looks really good in here.”
Pride fills her features in an instant, and a flare of satisfaction sparks in my chest, her face lighting up joyfully and turning my insides out in a way I’ve never felt before.
Before I can analyze those feelings, she jerks her head in the direction of a wide hallway and says, “Come on, Mr. Young. I’ll show you to the lounge. ”
She leads me through the hallway and around a corner, right before we enter through a set of double doors that lead to a room that looks like an extension of Maddie’s living room in her apartment.
Brown leather couches are placed almost haphazardly throughout the room, with matching armchairs and cream beanbag chairs placed around dark-wood coffee tables.
To the far right is a whole coffee bar island, with several vending machines lined against the wall behind it.
There are counters covered in snacks, a wall of branded coffee mugs hanging on hooks, and several boxes of what look like doughnuts and cupcakes stacked on the island.
“Damn,” I whisper under my breath, only it’s not quiet enough.
Maddie laughs and nods, looking pretty damn proud of herself. “Right? We keep this place stocked up real good with all kinds of snacks and coffee. So, help yourself, don’t be shy, and stay as long as you’d like. Here, give me your phone.”
I don’t bother questioning it. I fish my cell from my slacks pocket and hand it over after unlocking it with Face ID, letting her do what she wants with it as I find a chair to park in for a little while.
Just as I take a seat in what has to be one of the most comfortable armchairs I’ve ever sat in, Maddie hands me back my cell and says, “There. Now you have my number. If you get bored or whatever, just drop me a text so I can let you back out. I have to get to work, but let me know if you need anything, okay? Help yourself to anything here. And don’t forget, avoid the woman with bright pink glasses and hair.
Act deaf. Or blind. Or invisible. Whatever ensures my assistant doesn’t stray. ”
Rolling my eyes at the drama, I assure her everything will be fine and offer her a small wave as she leaves me in the lounge with a flash of a grin that stalls my heart in my chest and an accompanying confusion that I refuse to look into right now.