21. Maddison
Maddison
Ash: What are you doing tonight?
Maddison: You’re alive.
Maddison: Smashed at work.
For the first time, I enjoyed getting ready for an event.
Friday rolled around in a blur, and Roxy swept into my apartment like a storm, already halfway through a commentary on my life choices before she’d even set her bag down. I couldn’t stop laughing at her reaction to my closet, how she zeroed in on anything that was dark and silky.
“You own an apartment like this,” she said, sprawled across my bed like a starfish, arms flung wide. “And you haven’t invited me for a sleepover?”
She marvelled at everything, the built in fridge hidden behind seamless cabinetry, the floor to ceiling windows, the way the place felt like a luxury hotel, in her words. Her running commentary filled the space with noise and warmth, and for once, it didn’t feel so lonely up in there.
We poured champagne and tried on dresses until we both found the perfect one, and she sat behind me and did my hair. It was so foreign and so nice, that I had to keep telling myself to act normal and not like a total loser.
That feeling lasted right up until I stepped out of the car, Zeke waiting for me at the front of the event. We had to arrive separately, me on the arm of Zeke, my father’s new business associate.
My eyes flick sideways, eyeing the man who leads me through the wild crowds at the entrance, the flashing of camera’s making my head spin.
He looks good, I’ll give him that. Cropped hair and groomed beard, he looks dangerous in his black suit, with all sharp lines and muscles that can be seen even through the expensive material.
His lips turn up slightly when he catches me looking, heat creeping up my face. There is something about him that has the hair on my neck standing up. I feel...nervous.
“Maddison Dally,” he murmurs softly, his hand falling to the small of my back once we step inside the venue. The noise quietens to a bearable level, and I take my first deep breath since I’ve gotten here. “Don’t you look the perfect part.”
I accept a champagne from a server walking past, my smile automatic as faces turn our way.
“And what is that supposed to mean?” I ask curiously. His hand never wavers from my lower back, not daring to go lower...yet.
His mouth curves, just barely. “That you look exactly how you’re meant to,” he replies, only exacerbating my confusion. “You look like Mr Dally’s daughter.”
My stomach roils, the words landing like lead in my stomach. Instinct has me wanting to rip away from his touch, but I don’t. Because I am Mr Dally’s daughter.
“Oh, she doesn’t like that,” he hums thoughtfully, his dark eyes landing on mine, curious and watching.
Roxy waves from across the hall, champagne in hand and talking to a young server.
She looks stunning, in a tight black ball gown, all her tattoos on show.
Her black hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, silky strands hanging down her back.
She looks completely at odds with every stuck-up person in here, and I can’t help but smile before turning to Zeke.
“What about you? What business do you have with Mr Dally?” I plaster on the fake smile that I know Ash hates, because I’m genuinely curious. My father doesn’t do business with just anyone.
He takes a slow sip of his champagne; his eyes filled with amusement as he stares at me over the glass.
“A bit of this. A bit of that.”
My brows raise at that, eyes narrowing on him. “Interesting,” I mutter. “Sounds like even you are unsure about the nature of your relationship with Mr Dally.”
He huffs a raspy laugh, a proper smile finally curving his lips. “Oh, darling. If only you knew.”
My mouth pops open to reply, to push further into what he just said, but I hear my name said from behind me. My entire body tenses, shifting under the silky blue material hugging my body.
Before turning my head, I make sure my smile is firmly in place, ready for the act.
“Senator Hargrove,” I croon, walking over to shake his hand. Of course, he holds onto it tight with his sweaty hands and brings it to his dry lips to kiss, his eyes glittering over my hand.
Bile creeps up my throat before I gently pry my hand from his.
My father stands by his side, offering me a nod for the sake of appearances, Malcolm’s loud voice already taking on a drunken slur.
“Maddison Dally. What an absolute gem you are,” he booms. “This is just really something. Oh! Have you met my wife, Jenelle?”
My attention turns to the lady standing on his other side, blonde hair cut just like mine, wiry body wearing a designer dress. But that’s not what I notice when I shake her hand. The look in her eyes. Here... but also, not quite here? Faded.
I have to swallow before my voice croaks, “Nice to meet you.”
She smiles back noncommittally, linking her arm back into her husband’s. Yet, I can’t take my eyes off her. It feels like looking into a mirror, a picture of a future me. My mouth goes dry, and the words being spoken around me, Zeke and Malcolm introducing themselves, fade into the background.
Until I feel an arm tighten around me, subtle but unmistakable, drawing my attention back to the present.
Zeke is still speaking with my father and Malcolm, his tone easy, professional, every word measured.
I lift my gaze.
And that’s when I see him.
Ash stands across the room, deep in conversation with a man I don’t recognise, both of them dressed in tailored suits instead of leather, polished and powerful in a way that feels lethal. He looks wrong like this.
And somehow, even more deadly.
His eyes meet mine. And then flick across to the man beside me, whose arm drops just an inch lower down my hips.
My heart beats a steady rhythm in my chest, nerves and excitement bubbling inside me.
What is he doing here? How did he even get in?
The reminder that I lied to him during our short text exchange this morning also makes me feel dread, knowing he’ll punish me for that later. The kind of dread that flutters between my legs.
He raises his glass in a silent cheers, before going back to his conversation, not sparing me another glance.
I haven’t heard from him in almost a week, and he shows up here?
The idea of my father seeing me with him makes me nauseas, yet my eyes can’t seem to stop drifting in the gang leader's direction.
“And aren’t you lucky, having the in-demand Maddison Dally on your arm,” Malcolm croons, his beady eyes flicking between the both of us.
I try to take a step away from my date, but he grips me tighter, holding me against his warmth. Malcolm’s wife doesn’t bat an eye at his behaviour; her fake smile pinned in place. It’s damn eerie.
“Very lucky,” Zeke purrs, turning his head closer to mine.
At that moment, Ash’s stormy eyes flick back to us, darkening at the sight.
My breathing picks up, sensing the danger from all the way over here. Fear that he will cause a scene in front of my father and during this event has me trying to step away again, but Zeke doesn’t let me budge, chuckling softly.
When I look up at him, confused, he’s watching me with faint amusement, like this is all unfolding exactly as he expected.
“Excuse us,” my father says suddenly, clapping a hand on Zeke’s shoulder. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Zeke’s grip loosens, just enough. He glances down at me once, eyes calculating. “Don’t wander far,” he murmurs, as if it’s a joke.
Following my father, he leaves me with Malcolm’s leering gaze, unashamed in the way his eyes slide up and down my body.
“I heard the total of donations has exceeded thirty million,” Malcolm grins. “Bet I look really damn good right now.”
The strength to muster up a professional smile nearly kills me, but hearing the updated amount of donations makes me feel giddy. I feel like a puppet master, picking people’s pockets for the best cause. Using people’s own vanity to get them to reach into their heavily padded pockets.
“I’m sure you do,” I reply, my sky-blue nails that match my gown dig into my palms. “Now to keep up the good press.”
“Eh,” he shrugs, arrogance and stupidity oozing out of his pores. “If I slip up again, I’ll just get you to throw another one of these fancy events.” His laugh makes my skin crawl.
His wife laughs softly, even if the joke is regarding her husband’s slip-up of screwing another, much younger, woman. Watching her let him treat her like this is too much. Reminds me too much of me with...my father.
I excuse myself quickly, running to the restrooms, feeling the eyes of another man on my back.
My hands brace on the cool counter and stare at my reflection.
Who am I playing tonight?
The woman in the mirror looks like she belongs here, at this prestigious event. But my eyes give me away. Too bright. Too alert. Something I never thought I’d see looking back at me. They don’t match the look I’m used to portraying.
I press my palms flat against the stone, breathing until the tightness in my chest eases.
Get it together, I beg myself.
Straightening, I smooth my dress and turn for the door, almost colliding with someone as I step out.
“I am so sorry...” I begin, looking up in the dim hallway and finding the last person I want to see. “Oh... Senator. I didn't see you there,” I smile politely up at him.
The corridor is dim, the noise of the ballroom muffled behind thick walls. Senator Hargrove steps closer, blocking the way out with his large frame. His heavy cologne fills the air, messing with my senses.
“Maddison,” he says in a low voice. “No need for apologies.”
I take a step back. He mirrors it instantly, crowding me until my shoulder brushes the wall. The space feels suddenly very small; the guests feeling very, very far away.
“I should get back,” I say, forcing calm into my voice. “My date will be looking for me.”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, only a dark hunger that I know all too well. “Your date is preoccupied at the moment, actually.”
“What about your wife?” I insist, pulse thundering. “Or anyone. Anyone could walk past.”