Chapter 35 Madeline
Madeline
The following day, I broke down in the chambers. Seven hours in that chamber had stripped me out. Dressed like a sex symbol they’d strategically placed at the end of the table.
I’d walked out hollow.
Vince had been in the hallway. My “boyfriend” had walked right past me. It terrified me. How Vince could ignore me.
Tonight, in the debrief message to him. I told him that. This time I didn’t hide how scared I was, that I was in this relationship alone.
My phone rang a third time. I rolled on my side and finally swiped to answer.
“Madeline.”
I stared at the ceiling. “You’re persistent.”
“My girl sends me a debrief that reads like a breakup letter from another man’s bed, and I’m persistent.”
“It’s Atticus’s guest room. Not his bed.”
“You’re still in his penthouse. At two in the morning. In that dress the whole city’s been drooling over for twelve hours. Tell me something, angel—did you ask DePout to help you out of it?”
The question cut sharper than it should have.
“You noticed my dress,” I couldn’t stop myself from asking.
“I noticed every inch,” he snapped. “Thorne blush, sprayed on. Cameras loved it. So did every man in that Hall. Don’t change the subject. Who unzipped you.”
“I couldn’t reach the zip. And Atticus was here. So yes. He helped.”
He swore in Crow dialect, words low and vicious. The tone alone made my skin prickle.
“English,” I muttered.
“So DePout got to look at you in that little nothing of a gown, nipples showing through, every curve on display, then he got to drag the zip down and peel it off you. And I’m supposed to be calm.”
“It wasn’t like that.”
“How else is it, baby? He’s a man. You honestly think he didn’t look?”
“He doesn’t see me that way.”
“That’s bullshit.”
I let out a short, tired scoff. “You think you know Atticus better than I do.”
“I think he’s a man lying in a penthouse with the woman he wants down the hall and his hand on his dick,” Vince said, voice going dark. “Don’t tell me he’s not thinking about you in that dress, or out of it.”
“Charming as always.”
“I’m not here to be charming.”
“So what if he looked?” I snapped back. “Every man in that Hall stared. We both know it. If that’s Atticus’s reward for taking me home instead of leaving me in a corridor, fine. He got the zip. Congratulations to him.”
“What did you just say.”
“When I was sobbing in his arms,” my throat tightening, “I realised maybe I need more. Maybe it would be nice to have a boyfriend all the time, not just four days a month.”
He laughed then, but there wasn’t anything amused in it. “You baiting me, angel?”
“I’m telling you what I’m feeling.”
“Because if this is bait, I will make sure the so-called DePout prince forgets how to sleep in that building, I’ll make it very hard for him to stay in Villain and think about you.”
“Don’t threaten Atticus. He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
“He has my girl half naked in his penthouse.”
“He has his friend in his guest room,” I shot back. “And if we ever crossed that line—if that ever happened—it wouldn’t be temporary. There’d be an announcement streamed and handlers drafting talking points.”
“What the fuck does that mean.”
“It means Atticus knows me. And I know him. We don’t risk our friendship on something casual. It’s marriage or friendship. Nothing in between.”
A string of Crow dialect poured down the line. Harsh consonants, low vowels, all of it sliding right past my understanding and straight into my nerves.
“Vince. Stop. I don’t understand you.”
“You should know my tongue,” he snapped. “My sub should know my fucking tongue. You know DePout’s dialect,” he bit out. “Don’t you.”
“It was taught at the Academy, All dynasties’ languages were. Apart from the Crows, because you’ve got a full language and an addiction to secrets.”
He went quiet in a way that felt heavier than yelling.
“You get to keep me locked in two worlds. Soft in your bed. Obedient on your phone. Invisible in public. It’s tidy. For you.”
“Tidy?” The word sounded like it burned on his tongue. “You think any part of this feels tidy from where I’m standing?”
Seven hours at the table had left me with no patience.
“You ignored me,” I said. “In the foyer tonight, you walked straight past. In the Hall, during Sovereign, you spoke to everyone but me. You stood beside other women. You gave a waiter more attention than you have given me in a room like that.”
“I was working,”
“I was working,” I shot back. “And when it ended, I needed my boyfriend. The sick part? He was there. He just walked right past to argue with three men whose names I barely know.”
“This again,” he muttered.
“Yes. This again. Because it keeps happening. Sovereign. Tonight. I’m supposed to swallow it as ‘safety’ while you stand beside other women. Meanwhile, I’m the one who spends entire weekends with your body inside mine and then gets treated like nothing when the lights come on.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t reduce what happens between us to a weekend and a bed.”
“How else am I meant to frame it?”
I wiped the tears off my cheek. I hated the feeling that consumed me.
“Two days every second weekend I’m the star of your bed, and then I go back to being…
what? A perfectly behaved sub who sends you lingerie photos every morning and a report every night while you pretend you don’t know me at events. ”
It hurt. It physical fucking hurt. How could he not understand that.
He drew in a breath, slow and audible. “You think I don’t want to cross every room I’m in and bend you over the nearest surface when I remember them?”
“Wanting isn’t the same as doing.”
“You want me to do it in a hall full of cameras?” There was steel under the words now. “You want your father seeing my hand on your throat in Sovereign? You want every syndicate watching the feed to mark you as the place to hit if they want to move me?”
“I want you to look at me like I exist,” I snapped. Apart of me hated I was even explaining this to him. I was arguing to be seen.
“You exist. You’re the only fucking thing that—”
He cut himself off with another string of Crow dialect, harsher this time.
“Stop that. I don’t understand you!”
“You should. My girl should know my tongue. Not just DePout’s bastardised version of old dynasty.”
Heat surged up my neck. “This isn’t about languages.”
“It’s about loyalty.”
I wanted to scoff, it was about being invisible to him.
“This is about the fact that every heir dates. I’ve heard about the twins and their one woman.
Rome as well. I watched Harrison Crow in Harlan with a woman glued to his side for a week straight, and everyone just acted like it was part of the décor. Don’t tell me it can’t be done.”
“They’re not me.”
“They’re still Crows. They still have enemies. You protect your sisters. You track anyone who looks at them twice. You could do the same for me if you wanted.”
“I am doing that.”
“You’re hiding me,” I corrected. “You keep me secret because I’m a toy you don’t want anyone else to break.”
His tone changed. “Don’t.”
“I’m wrong?”
“You’re not a toy.”
“Then what am I?”
“My sub.”
“That’s not enough outside your penthouse.”
“That’s everything.”
“I’m the one standing in halls pretending I don’t know the man who held me while I—” my throat closed, “—while I did something I can’t even say out loud without wanting to die of embarrassment.”
“Pissed while I was still inside you,” he said, no softness at all. “You trusted me that much.”
“Don’t—”
“Don’t you dare dilute that moment. You let go for me in a way you’ve never let go for anyone. I think about it, and I get hard all over again. I think about how you spent an entire day connected to me.”
My cheeks burned. I couldn’t say anything. So, I didn’t and the silence lasted.
“You think I turn you off and go to work.” he said after a long moment.
“You do.”
“No.” His tone sharpened. “I have rules. You follow every single one. You send photos every morning. You tell me where you are. What you eat. Who touches you. You send debriefs at night. That is not nothing. That’s a life threaded through mine, even when I can’t get my hands on you.”
The tears slid down my face, I stopped trying to wipe them away.
“I still feel alone,”
“I’m your dom. That means a hell of a lot more than some casual boy with flowers and a hand on your waist.”
For the first time, I wondered why I kept begging to be seen.
“I didn’t ask for flowers. I asked you to look at me at the gala while you were standing next to another woman. I asked you to speak to me in a corridor when I could barely stay upright.”
He breathed out hard. “There were Veil drones in the rafters, cameras in the walls, handlers watching from the mezzanine, and a billion people streaming the event in twelve languages. I could feel Damius tracking me across the room like a weapon. If I’d looked at you for more than half a second, you’d be on a hundred feeds spliced together with Crow crest overlays and commentary about who the Lord of Villain fucks to relax. ”
“So, what’s, the excuse for tonight? In the chamber, there weren’t any cameras. Just dynasty officials and security. And you still walked right past.”
“I had to make sure those men understood the new enforcement terms—”
“I needed my boyfriend,” I yelled but it sounded more like a pathetic beg. He stilled. I could hear the shift in his breathing.
“The worst part? Knowing that you were there. It would have been easier if you’d been in another city. Instead, Atticus held me. Because my so-called boyfriend is only allowed to be one every second weekend.”
“You keep calling me that. Boyfriend.”
“It’s the only word I have for… whatever this is.”
“I’m more than that.”
“Then start acting like it.”
“Don’t throw DePout in my face while you say that.”
“He didn’t do anything wrong.”
“He got to see you break,” Vince said. “That alone makes me want to put a bullet through his fucking chest.”
My stomach clenched. “Do not threaten him.”
“He had his hands on you while you were sobbing about me.”