Chapter 8
MADISON
I do my hair and make-up to the soundtrack of Felix swearing at his racing game. I have to side-step some boxes of books and bedding because my room has become my staging area to pack for the move.
While I haven’t moved to Great-Aunt Vivienne’s house yet—I wanted to give Ford plenty of time to make his exit in case he hasn’t already—I’ll start bringing things over tomorrow.
I’m ready to get out of this apartment. Felix is sulking, and Hugo is being his general clueless self.
On the bright side, at least they aren’t still trying to talk me out of leaving.
With my hair and make-up done, it’s time to get dressed. I open the garment bag and gaze at my new purchase. My dress is a deep gray, and made of the softest fabric I’ve ever touched.
Reverently, I take it from the hanger and put it on.
The dress is perfect, but the zipper is a bitch. I knew this when I tried it on at the store yesterday. The dress was so beautiful, though, that I gaslit myself into believing it would be easy to put it on at home.
Nope.
But I’d rather die than ask Felix for help.
I twist as much as I can, contorting my arm to bend so I can tug up the stupid zipper. Just when I think I’ve got it, my phone rings.
I let it ring. Whoever’s calling, it can’t be important. Unless it’s one of the financial planners Ms. Rubio recommended. But why would they be calling at eight on a Friday night?
The phone stops ringing, then starts again. Sighing, I walk over to my phone to see who it is. My dress is half-hanging from my body. I just need to get it zipped, that’s all. Then I’m good to go.
When I see the caller ID, I take a deep, fortifying breath. It’s Jaclyn. Why the hell is she calling me? She usually texts.
I consider ignoring her, but she’ll keep calling me if I don’t answer. Bracing myself, I pick up.
“Madison, glad I caught you.” She sounds puffed up with self-importance. “I need you to work the Kliv…the Kliv…”
“Khlyvnyuk?” I ask, tugging again at my zipper.
“Yeah, them. Their anniversary.”
“That’s tonight, Jaclyn. I have the night off.”
“We’re short-staffed. You need to be there.”
“I can’t.” I finally get my zipper up, thankfully without pulling a muscle in my shoulder. “Let me guess—the reason we’re short-staffed is you want Friday night off?”
“Don’t be rude, Madison. Glinda just made me manager. And I’ve given myself a much-needed night off.”
I snort. “I can’t be there. You’ll have to find someone else. Since you’re the manager and nobody else can go, I think it’ll have to be you.”
“Madison, if you don’t get to the venue within thirty minutes, consider yourself fired.”
My reflection in the mirror is completely different from what I’m used to seeing.
I look polished. I look like someone who cares about my appearance, not someone who grabbed my work uniform from the top of the laundry pile.
The dress hugs my body in the right places, and falls in a flattering way.
It’s like it was made for me, not made for some “ideal” shape I can never hope to achieve.
Next to my full-length mirror is my dresser, and on it, all of the information from my inheritance.
I have money. I have a house. For the first time, I have options.
I don’t need to work, Ms. Rubio said. I thought I’d hold onto my job to keep myself busy. But it makes me miserable, so why should I?
“Madison?” Jaclyn prompts, impatience making her tone shrill. “Madison, you better be there—”
“I won’t be.”
Before she can argue, I hang up. I’m done. My phone immediately starts buzzing with texts. I mute Jaclyn and the buzzing stops. I plan on having a wonderful time with Damiano tonight, even though I’m shaking from adrenaline. For the first time, I stood up to Jaclyn. It feels strange, but right.
* * *
DAMIANO
I wait for Madison outside Chez Michel. When she walks up at five to nine, my heart speeds up. She’s gorgeous. I’ve known this all along, of course. From the moment she stepped out on that stage in Low Vice, I’ve known.
Her gray dress’s neckline is cut in a way that makes me want to trail my tongue along the edge.
“Bella.” I stride forward and kiss her cheek. I catch a whiff of her scent. Something soft and flowery. She styled her light brown hair in waves over her shoulders and I want to tug on a strand, see if it bounces back into shape, see if it’s as silky as it appears. “You are a vision.”
“Thank you.” Her smile is sweet, although shy. “You look nice, too.”
Placing a hand at the small of her back, I lead her inside. The host takes us directly to a room at the back of the restaurant. A single table sits in the center with two place settings. A low candle burns in the center, next to a bouquet of wildflowers.
“This is a private dining room?” Madison gazes in wide-eyed wonder. The room isn’t large, perhaps fifteen feet square, but it’s beautifully decorated. Soft lighting illuminates framed French landscapes hanging on the rustic stone walls.
“I want to get to know you without distractions, bella. I hope that is all right with you.”
She beams. “It’s sweet. I feel like a princess.”
“As you should.” I help her into her seat, then take my own. A moment later, our server arrives to recite the menu. I order a bottle of wine. As soon as she disappears, I face Madison fully. “I want to know everything about you, bella, but I’m not sure what to ask first.”
“Maybe you should let me ask questions, then.”
I grin. “Ask away.”
“Well, you’re from Italy, right?”
“I am. I grew up in tiny town in Sicily before moving to Palermo as an adolescent.” At times I’m homesick. But sitting in front of this beautiful woman—this is not one of those times. There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
She traces the handle of her fork with a slender fingertip. “How long have you been in the US?”
“Six years.” I think back. “Almost exactly six years, in fact. I came here in October.”
“So we’re approaching your anniversary.”
She looks like she has follow-up questions, and while I would love to indulge her, I am not quite ready to share everything. Thankfully, our server reappears with a bottle of wine. We go through the age-old dance of tasting and pouring, and finally Madison and I are alone again.
“How about you?” I ask. “Have you always lived in the United States?”
“I’ve lived in California for my whole life. The only time I left the state was for a school trip to Washington, D.C.” Her green eyes meet mine. “But I’m obsessed with travel memoirs.”
“Perhaps you should do some traveling, and write your own.”
“Maybe I will.” Her smile tells me she isn’t taking the idea seriously.
“I’m in earnest, bella. When is the last time you had a vacation?”
She shakes her head. “Never. Although…can I tell you something scandalous?”
The way her pouty lips form the word “scandalous” makes me want to drag her over the table and into my lap. I resist the urge, but I sit forward, elbows on the table. “Please, tell me.”
“I quit my job today. With the catering company.” She pauses, pursing her lips together. “Or maybe it’s that I allowed myself to be fired. I’m not sure.”
“So now you have time to go on holiday.” Although I am concerned about her income.
She cannot have earned much at the catering company.
But perhaps she has other sources of income.
After all, she did take part in the Low Vice auction.
If she plans to make a habit of it, I will have to attend each one, and win her every time.
“Yes, I think I do.” Her attention is captured by our server bringing in our soup.
We pause our conversation while the woman arranges everything just so.
Once our server leaves again, Madison takes a spoonful of soup, swallows, and gives me a mischievous grin.
“I still can’t believe I quit. Or was fired.
I let my coworker walk all over me…until tonight. ”
“What was different about tonight?”
“Well, the first thing is I realized that I don’t need that job. If I want a job, I can find another one.”
“And the other reason?” I force myself to take a bite. I don’t care about food, I just want to talk to her, hear her voice, learn about her and the way her mind works.
“The other reason is I wasn’t about to let my coworker bully me out of my date with you. I’ve had enough of her stealing my time off.”
“She steals your time off?”
“Not anymore, she doesn’t.” Madison grins, and her smile spears my heart in the best way.
“I’m glad you don’t listen to your coworker anymore.” I flash her a smile of my own. “You deserve much better than that. If someone’s going to boss you around, it better be for fun.”
“Oh yeah?” She narrows her eyes in a challenge, but her smile remains in place. “Being bossed around is fun?”
“Yes, like the other night at Low Vice. You were obedient to me, and you had fun, didn’t you, bella?”
Her cheeks turn rosy with a blush. “I wasn’t obedient to you.”
“No?” I watch her face carefully. “Give me your panties.”
Her lips part in surprise and she laughs. “I’m sorry, what?”
“You will be sorry.” I deepen my tone. “Give me your panties. Remove them right now, where you’re sitting, and hand them to me.”
“Uh, I…I’m not wearing any.”
I sigh and raise my eyebrows. “You’re lying to me, bella, and it won’t go well for you.”
She squirms, clearly aroused. She looks intrigued, too.
“So.” I lean back in my seat. “Are you going to remove your panties like I told you to, or am I going to have to pull you over my lap and spank you?”