September 1, 2002
Dear Maddie,
Fun fact: The dandelion flower opens up in the morning to greet the sun and closes in the evening to go to bed. It is the only flower to “grow old.” When you were younger, I took you to the park every day. Do you remember, Maddie? We used to look at dandelions and try to determine which ones would turn white and frail first. When they finally did, we’d pick them and blow them. They’d dance in the wind like snowflakes, and you’d chase them and laugh.
I told you it was okay to pick up dandelions and blow on them, because we spread their seeds. Each dandelion that died was responsible for the birth of a dozen like it!
There is a twisted, jagged beauty to the ending of life. It is a bittersweet reminder that it happened.
Seize the moment.
Every moment.
Until we meet again.
Love,
Three Chase-free days had passed.
Three days without Post-it Notes.
Three days where Chase got in, took Daisy, got out, and was out of my hair, just like I’d begged him to be since he’d walked back into my life.
Three days in which Ethan and I were too busy—me with finishing a few sketches that were due by the end of the week, him with his post (half!) marathon rituals. Our official consummation date was postponed, since Ethan needed to sit in a bath full of ice and write a five-thousand-word post in his blog about the medical merits of ice baths (which he sent to me; I skimmed). I tried convincing myself that it was a good thing we didn’t try to have sex the day his muscles were aching and I was still mulling over every single minute from that dinner night with Chase. I was especially bothered by Hug-Gate. I tried to assure myself that nobody thought anything of two adults hugging outside a pediatric clinic. It sounded completely platonic, but the fact that Chase had looked like he was about to maim someone with a butter knife at the table, paired with Julian’s insanely sharp instincts, meant that I was still worried we were uncovered. If that could cause Ronan to faint, God only knew what could happen if he found out the truth.
Ethan and I made plans to hang out on Tuesday. Ethan suggested he bring Chinese food and I bring the “right mood.” I tried to muster every ounce of excitement for our evening plans while I was at work.
I found a romantic-songs playlist on iTunes, shoved my AirPods on, and bobbed my head to some Peter Gabriel and Snow Patrol. I planned on putting on soft music on my old record player, maybe scattering some flowers around the house.
I was working on my drawing board, outlining a simple dress for our Mother of the Bride fall collection (I hated working on this collection; it was a painful reminder I didn’t have a mother), when I felt a tap on my shoulder.
I turned around, fully prepared to see a DoorDash delivery guy holding a paper bag with my lunch. Or maybe Nina scowling at me and telling me to keep the music down on my AirPods. But I nearly fell off my stool when I saw Katie Black standing in front of me, waving at me with an apologetic smile.
“Hi!” I said too loudly, wobbling up to my feet. Flustered didn’t begin to cover what I was feeling. Technically, I could see why she’d be here. She thought we were soon to be sisters-in-law. In practice, I knew my colleagues were going to ask a lot of questions if they saw us together. Namely, Nina, who was already peeking over her shoulder, trying to figure out what Katie freaking Black was doing talking to me.
I’d managed to keep my six-month relationship with Chase a complete secret while we were dating. Knew people would have a field day if they knew I was sleeping with the billionaire from the top floor. The one who owned the department store that kept our business alive. The irony of getting caught dating a man I hadn’t really dated six months after we’d broken up wasn’t lost on me.
“Hi. Hello. Hola.” Katie waved again, her blush deepening. “Hope I’m not interrupting anything. I thought . . . well, I normally take my lunch at the office, but one of my meetings got canceled, and I thought it’d be a good idea if you and I maybe spent some time together. You know, just so . . .” She trailed off, looking at the ceiling and chuckling to herself, mortified.
“Yes!” I said too brightly, eager to get her out of the studio, fast. I patted my chair for my jacket before remembering it was a thousand degrees outside and I hadn’t brought one with me this morning. I dragged her to the elevators. Physically pushed her in their direction. “What a great idea. I’m starving. Where do you want to eat?”
“La Table?” She stared at me with a mixture of surprise and worry, hoisting her Balmain bag over her shoulder. La Table was a $300-per-plate, fixed-price French restaurant under our building. It was reservations only (unless your last name was Black or Murdoch), which meant that I was in no risk of bumping into any of my colleagues. It also meant I was going to shell out enough money to pay a whole week’s rent because of Chase’s stupid lie, but as with Daisy’s vet, I was fully prepared to send him the bill for this.
The elevator slid open, and Sven appeared. He looked at me in question.
“Hi. No questions, please. Bye.” I all but shoved Katie inside while he stepped outside. Katie opened her mouth to ask me what was going on, but I beat her to it.
“So how was the marathon?” I asked cheerfully.
“Half marathon,” she corrected (she and Ethan would get along; I inwardly smiled). “And it was really good, actually. I had fun, and we raised a lot of money for charity. I’m sure Chase told you he donated three hundred thousand dollars to sponsor me.”
I almost choked on my saliva. He’d done that? I had no idea. I always thought Chase would be the kind of guy to support the cause of burning down rain forests and wearing fur. He seemed so infuriatingly soulless. Even when we’d been together, there was a shell of something dark, made out of steel and misanthropy, I couldn’t quite get past. I nodded dutifully, still playing my role as a fiancée.
“Sure. Yes. Totally.”
One affirmative is enough, Maddie.
We got out of the elevator. I asked her how Ronan was doing (not good), then complimented her on completing the half marathon. She told me she was planning on running a full marathon next year. Then asked why I wasn’t wearing my engagement ring.
“I’d really prefer not to make a big deal out of it.” I felt myself blushing. I mean, that, and the fact I wasn’t actually engaged to her brother. Take your pick. Panic alarms rang through my body. It felt so completely, unbelievably shitty to lie.
“Why? He’s not technically your boss. You know that, right?”
“I do, I do.” I wasn’t worried Chase would fire or demote me. I was worried he’d detonate my heart into miniscule pieces. “I still think it might rub people the wrong way, you know? Just because it’s a sister company and I don’t report to Chase doesn’t mean that it smells kosher.”
“Hmm,” Katie replied. It was a good time to change the subject before my head exploded from overblushing.
“I really like your dress,” I chirped. It was a brown knee-length number. Stern but really elegant.
Katie let out a surprised laugh. “I dress horribly. I want to blend in with everything.”
“Why?” I wondered. Obviously, I had the exact opposite problem.
“Because I don’t like to be seen. It’s a part of my anxiety problem. I don’t have the same confidence Julian and Chase seem to have been born with. I always think to myself, the first thing people see when they meet me is that I come from money and my dad gave me a kick-ass job because he had to.”
“He wouldn’t keep you if you sucked. I know that much about Ronan.” I shook my head as we strolled out of the building. “And confidence is like a house. You build it brick by brick. Each brick may seem insignificant, but when you take a step back after a while, you realize you’ve made a lot of progress.” Mom told me that. “Dressing confidently is the first step.”
“We should go shopping together sometime. You can help me out,” Katie suggested, biting down on her lip as we entered the restaurant. I was about to answer when the maître d’ greeted us, seating us at a prime table by the window. Mistaking my silence for rejection, Katie cast her eyes down at her menu, her shaky fingers fluttering over her neck.
“I would love that, Katie,” I said. “Although I’m not sure your brother is going to approve. He always taunts me about my clothes.”
“That’s just his version of pulling at your pigtails.” She laughed, taking a sip of her water. “You must know how much he adores you. He thinks you’re gorgeous.”
He does? It was not far fetched to think Chase found me attractive—he had dated me for a while—but he rarely ever commented about my looks, unless it was to point out how awful my fashion sense was.
“Sometimes I think he’d like me to look more put together,” I mused about my fake relationship with my fake fiancé to my fake almost sister-in-law. I had no idea what made me say that. It wasn’t like it mattered.
Katie snorted, looking up from her menu. “I don’t think so at all.”
“You don’t? Someone like Amber seems more fitting.”
I was not so subconsciously baiting Katie for more information, but I knew it wasn’t constructive. The waiter came to take our order. I let Katie order for both of us, mainly because I couldn’t pronounce most of the things on the menu but also because I was too nervous to take a good look at it in the first place. Once the waiter was gone, Katie snapped the napkin open and spread it in her lap. “Well, we all know how that went.”
“How what went?” I pressed.
Stop, Maddie, stop.
“Chase and Amber.”
There was a Chase and Amber? And we all know how it went? Really?
Feeling my pulse punching the side of my neck unpleasantly, I nodded, confirming I knew all about Chase and Amber. Panic climbed up my throat.
“Yeah, they don’t get along,” I finally squeaked. A flashback from the Hamptons ran through my head. Of Amber visiting our room while I’d been in the shower. Hushed voices, followed by an intense silence. They shared a secret. I was sure of it.
“That’s an understatement.” Katie snorted, then chugged San Pellegrino. “Sometimes I’m surprised Mom and Dad accepted her into the family after what she did to him. Then again, they didn’t really have much choice, did they?”
“No,” I agreed, feeling my body coming alive with too many emotions to identify exactly what it was I felt in that moment. Anxiety? Excitement? Anger? “I agree. That . . . that wasn’t nice of Amber.”
What the hell did she do to him?
“Anyway, I’m so happy he found you. I’m going to be honest: I didn’t think he’d ever bounce back from this. Not after things went down. He never had a serious girlfriend after Amber and before you.”
Chase and Amber were dating? But how could that be? She’s with his brother.
“That’s me.” I clinked my overpriced sparkling water glass to hers with a smile. “Full of surprises.”
And lies. And guilt. And probably irritable bowel syndrome, thanks to all the built-up aggression and remorse my body contains.
I was about to try to dig deeper into #chamber (the Chase-and-Amber shipping name I’d made up on the fly), when Katie sprang up to her feet, waving her hand excitedly. I whipped my head backward to see who she was looking at.
Chase.
Making his way to us.
With a cocky, I-dare-you-to-say-anything smile plastered on his face.
He looked so ruthlessly stunning I allowed myself two seconds to appreciate the Chris Hemsworth-ness of him in one of his signature black suits—tall and broad and bigger than life—before I returned to my usual program of being furious with him.
What the hell was he doing here?
“I’m so glad you could make it! Gosh, look at her face. She is surprised.” Katie laughed, mistaking my shock for delight. “We just ordered. Are you hungry?”
“No, I had lunch with a shareholder,” Chase said casually, leaning down to where I sat, grabbing my neck (grabbing my neck!), and planting a firm, hard kiss (!@#^%$!) on my mouth. His lips were on mine. Warm and hard and full of conviction. It was a kiss that said, This is happening, not Thank you for all you did. Have a good life. It was a continuation of something we’d started when I’d found him sitting on my stairway. It was destruction wrapped in a toe-curling moment I wanted to erase from my memory.
It. Was. Perfection.
He leaned back, smirking devilishly at me as he took the seat next to mine, straightening his dress shirt and adjusting his cigar pants as rich men who knew how to dress did. I glared at him, still feeling that close-lipped kiss everywhere. My mouth. My cheeks. My chest. That place under my belly button he knew how to make throb.
“How did the meeting go?” Katie chirped. Chase launched into a rant about something Julian had failed to do and he’d had to clean up on his behalf. I took the opportunity to pluck my phone from my bag and write him a quick message. Yes, I’d been supposed to delete his number right after I’d come back home from dinner on Friday, but I guess I’d forgotten. It wasn’t like Chase was the center of my universe or anything.
Maddie: Did. You. Just. Kiss. Me?!?!
I knew my message would be left unanswered, so I placed my phone in my lap and tucked into my starter, an extra cheesy onion soup. Chase took a breath from his business meeting story, and it was Katie’s turn to tell him about how someone from the marketing department had screwed up so badly they’d had to can the entire fall catalog and start from scratch. Chase’s eyes drifted down, a small grin tugging at his lips as his fingers began to fly across the screen of his phone.
Katie finished her story. Chase countered it with a story about how Julian and Ronan had once gotten food poisoning in the middle of an event and thrown up directly into an investor’s lap. There was still no message back from him. I looked down to my phone every few minutes, confused.
“Do you have any embarrassing stories, Maddie?” Katie asked.
My head snapped up. I felt like I’d been called out on not being present in the moment. I cleared my throat, trying to recover. “Sure do.” I side-eyed her brother. My blood was boiling with rage, but Katie didn’t know that. She perched her chin on her hand, ignoring the main course they’d just served us—ratatouille—waiting for my delightfully funny input.
“You want an embarrassing story? Okay. So I was dating this guy back in the day . . . he was a real tool,” I added, letting out a metallic laugh. Katie followed along, sending Chase an oh-my-God-so-juicy wink. “I have to say, we weren’t exactly a match made in heaven from the get-go, but I wanted to see where it was going. Plus, I was under the impression we were serious. He gave me a key to his apartment, like, three months in.”
“Maybe it made logistical sense to him,” Chase said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. He glanced at Katie uncertainly, like he and she were privy to something I wasn’t.
I shot him a polite smile. “Sorry, honey, is this your story or mine?”
His jaw worked. His eyes clouded with warning.
Don’t screw it up for me, they said. But I was past doing what was good for him—or for me. I was unhinged with vengeance. With bitterness that simmered in my body and rose up, spilling from my mouth after months of tears.
I turned back to Katie. “So I am dating this guy, and he gives me keys to his apartment. It’s his birthday. I’m thinking, I’m going to surprise him in the most romantic, sexy way . . .”
Katie laughed. “Snap, Chase, you may want to cover your ears for this next part.”
“Don’t worry. He knows this story well.” I speared him with a look, ready for my punchline. “I knew he went drinking with his friends. I waited for him in his bed, wearing nothing but the pair of Louboutin heels he bought for me earlier that month, a red thong, and a lacy black bra—you know, to match the heels—sprawled on his bed next to a white chocolate cake I made for him—”
“That made a mess all over his bed.” Chase cut into my speech, then quickly backpedaled when Katie turned her head to look at him. “I’m guessing. Who puts a cake on a fucking bed?”
“To make a long story short,” I bit out, drawing Katie’s attention back to me again, “it turned out he didn’t need my company after all, because he stumbled into the bedroom with a woman who wasn’t me. Oh, and had a lipstick stain on his dress shirt. How cliché, right?” I smiled bitterly, reaching for Chase’s whiskey—he was the only one who’d ordered a stiff drink—gulping it down in one go, and slamming it on the table. “How’s that for embarrassing?”
By the look on Katie’s face, horror mixed with pity and something else I struggled to read, I could tell that was not the kind of story she’d had in mind. Katie put her hand on mine, trying to catch her breath. I realized, albeit a little too late, that my eyes were glistening. I was holding back tears. But it made no sense at all. I was completely over Chase. I was.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Maddie. There is just no excuse.”
“None,” I agreed cuttingly, gulping my breaths, one fat inhale after the other. “None whatsoever.”
“This is . . . heartbreaking,” Katie said quietly. “So my guess is you didn’t stick around beyond that.”
I snorted. “You’re guessing correctly. You know what they say—once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard,” Chase interjected, signaling the waiter to refill his drink with a wave of his hand. “That’s like saying that anyone who is involved in accidental manslaughter is a serial killer.”
“Cheating is not accidental,” I pointed out. “It’s plain selfish.”
“There are two sides to every story,” Chase bit back, color staining his chiseled cheekbones. “Maybe if you bothered talking to the guy—”
“He seemed preoccupied with someone else at the time.” I ripped off a piece of bread and shoved it into my mouth. He still hadn’t answered my text message about the kiss. Katie looked between us, her jawline rigid, her posture surprisingly tight. I saw it in her face. The second she decided to let the subject drop and pretend like we hadn’t stepped into a huge mine of feelings and secrets.
“So . . .” She cleared her throat, looking around us. “Seeing as you’ve now moved on with Chase . . . when are you thinking of getting married? Is there a date?”
“No date. Nope,” I drawled, still holding Chase’s bluest-shade-of-blue gaze. “We’re thinking of taking a long time. You know, for planning and stuff.”
“Like, a year?” Katie asked.
“More like a decade,” I bit out.
I knew I was letting our charade slip and wished I could restrain myself. I genuinely wanted to make friends with Katie. Take her shopping and spend time with her, independently from how my fake engagement with Chase was going to pan out. I was just taken off guard by how Chase had shown up here, screwing this up for me, and then kissed me without permission, which had totally bent me out of shape.
I massaged my temples and closed my eyes, letting out a growl. “I think I’m coming down with something. How about I make it up to you later this week, Katie?”
“Sure.” She looked between us.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Chase was taking care of the bill. I tried to pay my part, slide my credit card his way, but he just put his hand on mine and smiled at me.
“Never, sweetheart.”
“Such a gentleman.”
“You have no idea.”
“That”—I sat back, fighting the urge to throttle him—“is true.”
That’s what happens when you muster some sympathy for the devil, I thought bitterly. He drags you to hell, and you get burned.
Mothers of brides all over America were going to buy fuzzy-looking dresses with angry, sharp lines that fall. My designs were not up to par with my usual clean, romantic style.
I was so furious after the meal with Chase and Katie that I ripped three papers while trying to sketch. I was sitting in front of a blurry shape of the female body—no stitch of clothing on it yet—when my phone pinged with a message.
Chase: I bet you’re still thinking about that kiss.
Maddie: I chugged bleach as soon as I got back to the office. It helped, a little.
Maddie: What the hell did you think you were doing?
Chase: Playing the loving fiancé.
Maddie: We’re done playing. We had an agreement, and I did my part.
Maddie: You ambushed me. You knew I’d be there. Why did you do it?
Chase: I decided our engagement story needed more reinforcement, since you went and hugged Tights Guy publicly.
Chase: Extra long.
Chase: Like couples in the movies.
Maddie: I said he was a friend!
Chase: It still happened.
Chase: (it did happen, didn’t it?)
Maddie: Yeah. I stress-baked extra cookies last week and decided to bring him some.
Chase: What kind of person makes out with her boyfriend at a pediatric clinic?
Maddie: IT. WAS. JUST. A. HUG!
I felt like Ross yelling at Rachel, “WE WERE ON A BREAK.”
Maddie: Wait, why am I defending myself to you?
Chase: Because I’m your fiancé.
Maddie: FAKE FIANCÉ.
Chase: Tell that to the real engagement photo shoot my mother had scheduled for us next week. I’ll email you the details in a bit.
“Gawwwd,” Nina drawled behind me at the top of her voice. “You even type messages loudly. Do you realize you whisper everything you write? You’re so basic.”
I dropped my pencil, before storming to the elevators. I slipped into a closing one, kicking my leg inside to pry the doors open, then hit the button leading to the top floor—Black & Co.’s management. I’d never set foot in there before, and the prospect of storming in raising hell was less than appealing. But I couldn’t take it anymore. It was obvious Chase was breaking all the rules in our agreement. I tapped my foot throughout the entire ride, imagining all the ways I was going to kill Chase when I finally got to him. Knife. Gun. Arson. The possibilities were endless, really.
The elevator dinged open. I purged myself out of it, advancing straight to the biggest fishbowl office on instinct.
“Miss!”
“Excuse me!”
“Do you have a pass?”
Stuttering receptionists and flustered secretaries were on my heels, stumbling behind me on their sensible wedges. A sleepy herd of suited men watched from the sidelines of the office, holding stacks of papers and files. I slapped the glass door to Chase’s office open with my palm.
“You!”
Bastard didn’t even look up from the documents he was reading. Just turned a page very slowly, making a show of frowning at whatever he was reading. I took it as an invitation to walk right in. Two receptionists popped up behind my shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Black; she just burst in—”
“—didn’t even see her name tag! Security’s on the way.”
“It’s fine.” He cut them off in a way that implied it wasn’t fine. “Leave.”
The two of them shared a confused look, then bowed their heads in unison and scurried out of his office. Chase finally looked up from his documents. He looked shockingly composed for someone who’d just gotten called out in the middle of his office.
“Miss Goldbloom, how may I be of help?”
I slammed the glass door behind me, refusing to take in the thrilling richness of his work environment. The chrome desk, huge Apple screen, floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Manhattan, and gray-and-white furniture.
“I—” I started, but he stopped me, lifting his palm up, then opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved a remote control he used to close the black shades in his office automatically. I blinked. Now we were alone and completely hidden from the world. His colleagues could see nothing, and I could only guess what they were thinking.
Office sex. Lord, I hated him and his games.
“You were saying?” He sat back, amusement flashing in his eyes. That was a good question. What was I saying? I shook my head.
“You’re taking advantage of the goodness of my heart. I told you we were done after that dinner. You have no business kissing me or agreeing to photo shoots with me.”
“I’ll walk Daisy every day.”
“Until when?” I scoffed.
“Until my dad dies,” he replied flatly.
I tried not to let the weight of his sentence sink into me but felt my shoulders slumping nonetheless. “Chase,” I said softly. “We both want him to live as much as he can. It’s not fair on both of us.”
“The hell with what we want—he has a couple months, at best,” he growled, looking away from me. “Less, probably.”
“This is not sustainable.” My voice was so quiet it sounded more like a breath.
“We don’t need to be sustainable. We’re not fucking plastic bags.”
“I would rather wrap one around my head than play house with you,” I muttered, immediately regretting my words. He was hurting. His entire being bled this fact. The way he talked about his dad, had looked at him from across the table over dinner.
Chase rose from his seat, smirking darkly at me. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“When you told Katie our breakup story, you had tears in your eyes. You’re not over me.” He leaned forward across his desk, only a breath away from putting his lips on mine. “However, contrary to your predictions, you will be under me.”
I felt my lower lip wobbling and crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to get out of here. I wasn’t even entirely sure what had made me come to his office in the first place. Chase rounded his desk, every inch of him the cool businessman I loved to hate.
“Madison.” My name was a command.
I jutted my chin out defiantly as he leaned against his desk, ankles crossed, hands shoved inside his pockets. “I would like to restart our fake relationship,” he said.
“Too bad it’s not a Windows PC.”
“If it were, I’d reformat it completely and backdate it to seven months ago,” he surprised me by saying. A waft of his scent made its way into my system. Pine and wood and male and richness that couldn’t be bought. He was the sun. Beautiful and blinding and capable of burning you alive. And I was a mere star in his constellation. Small and insignificant, utterly indistinguishable to the naked eye.
“You screwed up long before I caught you with her.”
But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t the truth. Not entirely, anyway.
I’d been a watered-down version of myself to appease him, forever a martyr.
And he was an egomaniacal, self-centered playboy who’d regarded me carelessly and never bothered to get to know me. But the thing was . . . the old Maddie had let him treat her this way. The person I was now, however, wasn’t having it. Not at all.
My eyes dipped from his gaze to his mouth, determined not to show him what was behind my pupils. I wondered why he couldn’t show me a fraction of the sympathy I showed him and leave me alone. The very existence of him was tearing me apart.
“Madison,” he croaked.
“Chase.”
His fingers fanned across the side of my neck, his gaze holding mine, penetrating the thin wall of determination I’d put between us. I wanted to die. Die because Chase touching my neck felt more sexually maddening than being fully kissed and groped by Ethan.
“He doesn’t have long, and Julian will uncover our charade in less than a week if we stop seeing each other now.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That we’ll start seeing each other for the time being.”
“No.” My stomach felt hollow, my voice bouncing inside it.
“Why?”
“Because I hate you.”
“Your body told me a different story when I leaned in to kiss you earlier.” He advanced toward me predatorily, his movements sleek and smooth. His hand clawed into the tender flesh of my neck, and my belly clenched deliciously, approving of his touch. He was right. He was everything dark and sinful. Impossible not to yield to.
“My body is a liar.” The words felt heavy on my tongue.
“Your mouth is, and hell if I don’t want to fuck the truth out of it.”
I looked away, watching him in my periphery leaning nearer and nearer. I took three steps back. He ate the distance between us with one stride. I walked backward. He followed me. Finally, my back hit the black blinds. Chase boxed me with his arms above my head, a menacing sneer on his lips.
No more barriers. Just us and that thick, almost tangible tension lingering in the air like sweet smoke.
“If you pretend to hate me . . .” His voice was silk and velvet, his hot breath fanning the side of my neck. “At least do it like you mean it.”
His knee poked between my thighs as his mouth descended in slow motion onto mine. His body molded into my frame. I stood there, eyes open, watching in gut-swirling horror as his mouth met mine. Yet I pulled him closer, my nails sinking into his shoulder blades. His lips were warm and soft. Softer than I remembered. They felt different. Like his soul was touching mine through this brief brush of our lips. It surprised and scared me, how charged it felt to be in his arms, to drink from the well of his scent and warmth and feel.
He tasted like a touch of whiskey and mint gum, exploring, probing, awaiting permission to plunge in with his tongue. I sighed into our kiss, feeling my muscles relaxing without my consent. I was a pool of desire when Chase put his hands on my cheeks, framing me with his strong fingers.
“This is a bad idea,” I heard myself whispering, but I still didn’t let go of him.
He groaned, the tip of his tongue touching mine. A current ran through both of us, and we shivered into each other.
“I wish you were someone else.” His lips spoke into mine. “Soulless, like me.”
The door flew open before I swallowed his words with a hungry kiss.
“Ronan is waiting on that growth report from quarter three . . .” Julian stopped on the threshold, a folder in his hands, his eyes on us. Chase’s mouth left mine swiftly, and my gaze dropped to the floor. I was horrified, but I wasn’t sure why. As far as Julian was concerned, we were an engaged couple fooling around in Chase’s office. If anything, getting caught was beneficial, so why did I feel like a fraud?
Julian curled his fingers over the doorknob, cocking his head sideways. His smile wasn’t that of someone who’d caught two lovebirds having a clandestine moment. He looked like he was dissecting a mouse with a scalpel. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”
Chase tucked me under his arm. It was the first time I felt protected by him, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Unfortunately, this is not a peep show, hence the drawn blinds. And the fucking door. Were you born on a bus? Knock, God dammit.”
Julian propped his shoulder against the doorframe, grinning fully now. “Are you blushing, brother? Is there anything I should know?”
“Yes. If I ever get a chance to piss in your drink, rest assured, I will do it. No second thoughts.”
“You seem very . . . prickly.” Julian rubbed at his chin, looking between us. “Dare I say, even uncomfortable together.”
“We felt very comfortable yesterday, when we broke your bed together, weren’t we, baby?” Chase dropped an impersonal kiss on my head. I nodded stiffly, more concerned with sticking it to Julian than berating Chase at the moment.
“Don’t worry. I’ll send a replacement this afternoon.” Chase chucked my chin lovingly. He was disgustingly good at playing the dutiful fiancé.
“Make it white. I’m redecorating.” I played along.
“Bull, meet shit. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Julian’s beady eyes danced in their sockets. “You’re lying. You’re not together, but Chase is now working his way back into your good graces, and the naive little girl that you are—you are falling for it.”
I swallowed down my pride—and anger—keeping my smile intact. A part of me had pondered the same thing. Whether Chase had suddenly begun to kiss me and take interest in me just because he needed to keep me close. I knew very well that he wanted us to be fake-real-dating. With all the perks of a couple, but without the commitment and feelings.
“I really don’t appreciate what you are insinuating,” I heard myself say in my bubbly, customer-oriented, can’t-we-all-just-get-along voice. “Chase and I have been together for almost a year. I understand in light of what Clementine said, you are a little suspicious, but you are being unnecessarily crude right now.”
“Oh, Maddie,” Julian sighed melodramatically in the same tone he’d say, Oh, you little idiot. “We both know you two weren’t together the entire time.”
“We do?” I perked up, going for sarcasm. Chase’s body quivered with an unrestrained chuckle next to me.
“Unless he cheated on you with at least three women. Chase here is not very good at keeping his private business . . . well, private. And I do like to pay him surprise visits, just to check on my baby bro.” He winked at Chase.
I felt physically sick, even though Julian’s information came as no surprise to me. I knew Chase had hooked up with women after we’d broken up. Sven had flat-out told me so. And yet feeling his arm draped on me and knowing it to be true made me want to curl into a ball of misery and self-loathing.
“All is forgiven and forgotten,” I said breezily, swallowing down the bile in my throat. I hated Chase so much in that moment I wanted to stab him with a sketching pencil. I felt like Eliza Hamilton. Smiling to the world to save face while her brilliantly devastating husband owned up to his affairs.
“Is that so?” Julian arched a cynical brow.
“People make mistakes all the time,” I gritted out.
“Yes. Your husband-to-be seems to be living proof of that. And now he is faithful, I’m guessing?”
“More than your wife ever will be.” Chase shrugged.
“Watch it.” Julian lifted a warning finger.
“Seen enough.” Chase sucked his teeth, a taunting grin playing on his face. “And cut the brotherly bullshit. Our relationship died the day Dad announced me as the future CEO. Just remember, Julian, in war, there are winners and losers. Historically speaking, the winners don’t take mercy on those who tried to dethrone them.”
My eyes ping-ponged between the two men. I was trapped in the unfurling of a family calamity. Finally, I stepped between them, a referee of sorts.
“Okay, that’s enough. Chase, give him the quarterly . . . growth . . . whatever.” I gestured impatiently with my hand to the folder on his desk. Chase took the paper he’d been reading earlier and held it out to Julian. “Julian, please give us some privacy, and do knock next time. Thank you.”
I physically closed the door behind Julian to speed up the process. Being around them together was exhausting. I turned to Chase. “About what we discussed. To continue this until . . .”
Your father dies. I couldn’t complete the sentence. We both looked away. I thought about Mom. Specifically, about one of her letters, where she said there was beauty in everything. Even in losing someone. I’d been so mad when I’d read it that I’d taken a lighter to it and started burning it before chickening out. To this day, it was the only letter in less than pristine condition. It was blackened around the edges, marshmallow-like. “I’m sorry, Chase, but I can’t do this. I would if I could, but I don’t want to get hurt. And this”—I motioned between us—“it’s already killing me, and it’s not even real.”
I shook my head, escaping his office before he had the chance to convince me otherwise. To lure me into his devil’s den, which was full of dark, gorgeous things I wanted to explore.
I tripped back to the elevators, my feet moving on their own accord. I glanced at Chase’s office, ignoring the blur of faces staring at me curiously from all corners of the room. The blinds were still drawn.
When I got back to the studio, an email from Nina awaited me. It was sent to my Gmail, as opposed to my company email, where it could be seen by HR in one of their random checks.
Maddie,
You’ve received flowers from some loser who thanked you for sending her a wedding dress after an article about her making herself a wedding dress out of toilet paper (WTF?).
They’re by your drawing board, right next to a picture of her in your dress. The dress looks hideous. So does the bride. Please stop hoarding flowers in the office. Some of us actually suffer from allergies.
—Nina
I was tempted to write something back to her. Something vicious and offensive. Then decided I didn’t want Sven to know there was trouble between me and the pretty intern. Instead, I collected my things, watered my flowers, grabbed the Polaroid of the bride I’d sent the dress to, and then slunk back home to lick my wounds.
