Chapter 30 Rowe
Rowe
“So you’re Rowe Wadley,” Sylvia Maddox declares after descending the steps of her private jet.
Private. Jet.
Pane’s family owns a jet.
A jet.
A jet.
Did I mention they own a jet?
My family literally owns nothing—not even the place where we live. And he owns a jet.
My stomach falls at the sight of the sleek plane with the Maddox Group logo scrolled on the tail. It was one thing to know that Pane comes from stupid-crazy money. It’s another to witness this wealth in the flesh.
And Sylvia Maddox drips wealth.
She’s wearing all white, even her shoes. Her black hair has an elegant silver streak that starts at her forehead and winds its way behind an ear. It’s very classy.
She’s draped an ivory suit jacket over the shoulders of her blouse, and manages to walk effortlessly down the steps without the jacket slipping even once.
She’s mesmerizing.
I’m glad I had the sense to put on a nice pair of jeans, a blouse, and newish pumps. Otherwise, I would’ve felt underdressed.
Even now, Pane’s wearing nice jeans, and he pressed his shirt. There’s no looking like a slouch for Sylvia Maddox, and I understand exactly why Pane was pissed off the first time we met, when he had to meet Sylvia after the piggycorns ruined his suit.
When she takes my hand, she studies me with sharp green eyes—eyes that match Pane’s and Natalie’s.
Just being in her presence makes me want to shrink into a tiny brittle ball. To shrivel up like one of the souls in Disney’s The Little Mermaid, becoming a dried-up husk of who I really am.
Pane slides a hand along my back. I jump, I’m so startled by it. My gaze slashes to him. I’m sure Sylvia catches my what-the-hell expression. But Pane’s face remains neutral, as if he’s been touching my back for ages.
His fingers squeeze in a protective yet gentle reminder that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.
Yesterday I would’ve run screaming from his touch. But today things are different. Watching him with Natalie crumbled the rest of the icy walls that had encased my heart.
It’s questionable, how I feel about this.
Sylvia’s gaze flicks to the arm Pane has around my back. She opens her mouth to say something, but Natalie jumps out of the truck and runs to her. “Mom!”
She sucks in her cheeks, jaw tightening. “You are in trouble, young lady.”
Though the words are stern, Sylvia does give her daughter a hug. However, her arms are so straight that they remind me of pool noodles. It’s like Sylvia doesn’t know how to offer love.
Good grief, if I’d pulled what brilliant little Natalie did (yes, she’s clearly way too bright for her age), my mother would’ve hugged me tight before spanking the heck out of me and grounding me for the rest of my life.
But instead, after hugging Natalie, Sylvia drops her like a hot potato and snaps, “In the plane.”
“But, Mom, they have a boarding school here. It’s only an hour away—”
Sylvia glances at her with disdain. “Your brother will be home soon enough. You won’t be coming here.”
Wow. Talk about being bitch-slapped. Her tone, her words—all of it is rough.
As Natalie tromps up the steps in disappointment, Sylvia turns her attention to her son. “How are things going? Though I probably shouldn’t ask you too much.”
“They’re well.”
“I expect you to be ready in a few weeks.”
“I will be,” he tells her.
She tugs the jacket on her shoulders, pulling it higher. “Good. So you’ve been making it on your own okay?”
He glances at me and smiles. “I’ve been making it great. I couldn’t have done it without Rowe.”
Sylvia places all her attention on me, and fire practically shoots from her eyes as her gaze sweeps over me from head to toe. I know this look. This is the look of someone who wants to make you feel inferior.
She pulls her lips back into a cold smile. “Ah, Rowe. Thank you for helping my son. That’s wonderful of you.”
Her tone is resentful. Sylvia Maddox, CEO and president of a multibillion-dollar hotel business, is resentful that I’m here, and she wants me to know I don’t belong.
I’ve got news for her: I belong well enough for Pane to put his hand on my back.
“You’re welcome,” I say, smiling through the irritation grinding in my stomach. “Your son’s amazing. I can see how he’d be great with the hotels.”
“Yes,” she says, hissing the sssss. “He is great with our international business. It’s much bigger than a small mountain town with a gimmick.”
Now it’s on, lady. “Oh? You’ve visited Mystic Meadows?”
“I’ve seen it. It’s very worn.”
“Not anymore.” I nudge Pane. “Because of this guy, people are giving the whole town a facelift.”
Her eyes go as wide as saucers at that. “Is this true, Pane?”
He shifts his weight like he’s impatient to leave. “Seems the renovation is contagious.”
“Renovation?”
“You’ll see it on judging day. I don’t want to say too much. I’m still competing against my brother.”
Sylvia regards him. Then her frigid gaze lands on me. She and Pane may share the same eye color, but his eyes are warm. Hers are filled with ice.
“Yes, about your brother.” She sighs dramatically. “There’s something I need to discuss with you. In private.”
She wedges herself between me and Pane, taking the arm he had on my back and pulling him down the tarmac.
As Sylvia walks off, she literally lifts her nose in the air.
Is she for real? Is this little rich woman jealous of me? Does she think I’m some sort of competition?
They talk in private for a few moments while I study the plane, wondering what it’s like on the inside and deciding that it’s best not to know. You know, since it isn’t mine and all.
After a minute, Pane’s voice rises in the air. “I just don’t want to talk to him right now.”
When I glance over, his mother is replying in a low voice. He nods.
They break apart and head this way. He calls up at the jet, “Natalie!”
A few seconds later, his sister appears in the doorway, hope alighting on her face. “I can stay?”
“No. I need a hug. Rowe does, too.”
Her face falls at the realization that she does have to leave. Then she rushes down the steps, hugs Pane around his middle before releasing him and hugging me.
“Please send me a piggycorn for Christmas.”
“I’ll do my best,” I whisper.
Then she breaks free and races back up. I look over to find Sylvia staring at me with contempt burned onto her face.
She laboriously drags her gaze from me to her son. “I’ll see you in a few weeks, Pane.”
“Bye, Mom.”
“Bye,” she says with a smile. Then she turns to me. “Rowe.”
That’s all the goodbye I get from Sylvia Maddox before she disappears into the jet.