Overall, if I had to rate yesterday, I’d give it a will-not-visit-again, I-want-my-money-back zero-star review.
Other than me not dying in a freak subway accident, everything had gone south. Mad and I got caught boning on her floor restroom (my fault), Katie nagged me about asking Mad if it was okay if she went out with Ethan (this man was hell bent on screwing his way into my close circle, or so it seemed), and—the cherry on the shit cake—Dad gathered Julian, our CFO (Gavin), and me and announced he was going to work remotely from home from next week forward. What he really meant was he couldn’t even stand on both legs anymore. He still hadn’t shared his medical situation with the board, and I guessed I did see Julian’s point at this stage, but I would rather die than side with the asshole.
Dad had lost twenty-three pounds in less than two months and was looking a lot like death. Keeping the illness to himself was straight-up dumb at this point. And still, I couldn’t exactly judge him. There was something embarrassing—almost humiliating—about dying. And he was a powerful man.
Julian had been the first to react to Dad’s news. He’d hugged him, said he understood, and asked if retirement was in the cards for him. This time, Dad hadn’t seemed so against it. He’d told us he’d invite us over to discuss it further.
Julian was working hard behind the scenes, spreading rumors about my performance as COO, planning to stage a vote of no confidence once I inherited the role. There was also that stupid Ethan-Madison-Chase triangle he was still banging on about, but since that could be easily evaporated—Katie was seconds from dating Ethan, and Mad and I were actually together-together—I concentrated on working my ass off and staying in my own lane. I knew I was going to deal with Julian eventually, but I hoped to drag it out until after Dad had passed away so he wouldn’t be there to see it when I finally tore Julian limb from limb and threw whatever was left of him to the corporate streets, to start from the bottom at some bullshit company because no one in the city would work with him.
I got it. I did. Julian had been blindsided by my existence. Katie and I were a pleasant surprise to Lori and Ronan Black, who didn’t think they were able to conceive. Let me amend—I was a miracle. Katie, a pleasant surprise. My mother had suffered from polycystic ovary syndrome, and the doctors said her chances of falling pregnant were pretty much nonexistent. Julian had spent a good chunk of his childhood believing he was the sole heir to the Black empire. My oopsie appearance when he was ten hadn’t meant much to him at the time, but as he’d grown older, he’d begun to resent me more and more when he’d realized the fortune-and-power pie would need to be shared.
And he definitely did not appreciate the fact I’d proved to be better than him in every single thing we both touched.
After a disastrous day at work, I’d driven Dad back home and sat by his side, but he’d been barely conscious.
By the time I’d left my parents’ house, I’d been too exhausted to go to Mad and extinguish the getting-caught fire we were currently burning in. I’d gone back to my apartment, gotten hammered, left half-apologetic messages to a thoroughly freaked-out Madison, and passed out.
This morning, I was hoping to sort out some of the clusterfuck also known as my life. I sent Madison flowers to her office. The big-ass, expensive kind. Flowers that didn’t say thank you for the casual lay but made no room for doubt I was serious. That way, that Nina chick and Mad’s other colleagues would at least know she wasn’t the flavor of the week.
Throwing money at the Madison problem was the first and last good thing about my morning. As soon as I got into the office, I realized something was amiss. And when I said amiss, I meant my brousin’s sanity.
He was standing in the middle of the office, arms spread, in a crumpled suit with a coffee stain the size of Minnesota, giving frantic directions to every secretary and assistant in sight. People around him looked ashen, scared, downright devastated. A few secretaries and interns cried. What had he done to make everyone’s panties twist? Other than the obvious sin of living and breathing.
I stepped out of the elevator, considering if I should call security or punch him square in the face myself. The latter would mean a lot of legal paperwork, but damn if I wasn’t tempted.
His beady black eyes ran aimlessly in their sockets, like they, too, wanted to escape the man they were in. An assistant handed him a fresh suit, and he raced to the restroom to change. I glanced at Dad’s office. He wasn’t in yet. I took my phone out and sent Mom a text asking if he was okay.
“Mr. Black! I’m so sorry about the news.”
“Mr. Black, I just want you to know if you ever want to talk to anyone, I’m here.”
“Chase—can I call you Chase?—I’ll be keeping your family in my prayers . . .”
I breezed past a herd of blabbering assistants, making my way to my office. I had no fucking clue what they were talking about but was eager to find out right after I consumed my first coffee and turned from zombie to semiconscious. A hand landed on my arm. I looked up from my phone. It was Julian. He was fully dressed in a brand-new suit. That was fast. Did he possess the most useless superpower of all, of getting dressed quickly in public restrooms?
“A word,” he growled.
I stalked into my office and took a seat behind my desk. He followed closely behind. I prided myself on being self-possessed when it came to Julian, but even I had my limits. Something told me I was about to meet those limits today.
“Well?” I powered up my laptop, not sparing him a glance. There was a fresh cup of coffee on my desk, and I took a sip. “Are you waiting for a royal invitation from the Windsors, or can you spit it out before lunch?” I made a show of glancing at my Rolex for emphasis. I noticed he was holding a thick stack of papers in his hand.
“I told everyone about Ronan. About the terminal cancer. How he had only a few more weeks to live,” he said. My eyes darted up. His lower lip was trembling, but he kept his head high. “This has nothing to do with us. I love Ronan like a father, but he can’t go around pretending it’s not happening. This company feeds thousands of families. Families who deserve to know what’s going on.”
I couldn’t argue with his logic, but I sure as hell could crucify him for telling people about it.
“You had no fucking right,” I gritted out, feeling my composure slipping. I couldn’t sit back and let him do that anymore. I was fed up.
“Now, that’s not true. We all had the responsibility of notifying the company, but none of us wanted to do it because we feel loyal to him. Because we love him.”
I was going to spit out something about how Julian never had loved my father, based on his behavior; then he slid a paper across the desk toward me.
“Ronan is not willing to change his stand on the CEO position. So you will. Refuse the inheritance.”
“Are you on meth?” I adjusted my tie. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“Because—” he started. I raised my hand, cutting him off.
“Let me guess: you’ll stage a vote of no confidence meeting. Rest assured, I am way ahead of you. Every single person you tried to sway against me called me up to say I needed to put you back on your meds. They’re all in my pocket, and I have their full cooperation.”
“No.” He reddened, curling his fists in anger. “Because—”
“Madison and Ethan? That bag of bullshit?” I sat back, forcing out a metallic laugh. Talking about Ethan still felt like taking a lengthy walk in hell, fucking barefoot. “Madison and I are engaged. I spend every night at her place. My suits look like they’re made of brown fur because of her dog. She hangs out with Mom and Katie more than Amber did the entire duration of her marriage with you. Hell, we were caught having sex in the restroom on her floor yesterday.” I chuckled, but the admission felt sour in my mouth. It wasn’t my place to spit it out. I just wanted to throw it in his face. To make sure he knew Mad and I were the real deal.
Julian banged his fist on my desk, making the keyboard fly an inch off the surface. “No! I don’t mean any of this, you asshole. If you let me get a word in—”
“Just the one, please.”
“Clementine is yours!” he spat out, picking up one of the papers in his hand and throwing it my way. It floated between us and landed like a feather on my desk. “She’s fucking yours, okay? Not mine. That’s for sure.”
I sat stoically, not picking up the paper between us. Didn’t take a genius to figure out it was the paternity test. Julian took a ragged breath, dragging his fingers over his balding head.
“I took the test. Finally. Amber’s been teasing me about it for a while now. Every time we had a fight, she’d throw it in my face. I’m sure it doesn’t come as a shock to you that things have been bad between us for a while.” He gave me a narrowed-eyed glance, like it was my fault they were both D-grade douchebags who hated each other and had married for all the wrong reasons. “Three years, to be exact,” he added.
“Peculiar,” I said icily.
“Not really.” He exhaled, his body shrinking as he did. “Ever since she found out you’d get CEO, she’s been riding my ass like there was no tomorrow.”
So that was what made him the way he was? Goddamn Amber?
Julian rubbed his forehead, looking around the office. “Yesterday I finally took a test. It was one taunt too many, I guess, after the weekend at the ranch. Amber was in a bad mood, and I wanted to know if she was bullshitting me or not. She wasn’t. I’m not Clementine’s father. Which means”—his red face morphed into a smile so nefarious I thought he was going to grow little horns on each side of his skull—“you’re the baby daddy, brousin. Now tell me, would it not kill your parents to know you were the MIA father to their granddaughter?” He cocked his head sideways. “This is highly unorthodox. The stuff Jerry Springer drama is made of.”
I grabbed the paper, skimming through it. Julian wasn’t lying. He wasn’t Clementine’s biological father according to the test. I looked back up at him, balling the paper in my fist and throwing it into the trash can across my office with easy accuracy. I said nothing.
“Amber told me she tried to tell you numerous times,” Julian accused, his lips twisting in feral disgust. I wondered if he was clinically sane. He seemed much more eager to blackmail the CEO position from me than mourn the news about his daughter not being biologically his after nine years of raising her. Only I knew Julian enough to know life had left him scarred beyond recognition from the inside. That was his way of dealing with this.
And there was something else I suspected—he’d known. He couldn’t have not known. Clementine didn’t look like either him or Amber. She didn’t have my colors, my angles, or my expressions either.
“I suppose she failed to mention I repeatedly asked for a paternity test,” I said.
“Well, you have it now.” Julian waved to the trash can behind us. “Obviously, I have more copies of it.”
“That’s not how paternity tests work, idiot. The only thing it proves is that you’re not the father. The rest of the world’s male population has officially become potential candidates.”
“You’re grasping at straws.” Julian bared his teeth. His eyes were shining. He wanted to cry. I leaned forward, no trace of malice in my voice.
“No, you’re losing everything you’ve ever had, because you tried to steal it rather than earn it. Now get out of my office, Julian. Come back with an apology if you want a brother. I don’t want to see you in any other capacity.”
I knew what I needed to do, but it was going to take a minute.
Instead of getting the hell out of my office, leaving a trail of smoke and the rancid smell of desperation that clung to him, Julian sprawled on the seat in front of me.
“As for Maddie . . .” He trailed off. Hearing her name on his tongue made me want to break every glass wall in the office using his head as the hammer. “You may be together now, but I know you weren’t together. Shortly before you came to the ranch, Ethan told me all about you. How you cheated on her. How she dumped you. Your little girlfriend even told him about all the women who came after her. All the hussies her boss saw going up to your penthouse. Now, let’s see. What do we have here? You lied to your family about being engaged. You fathered a child with the woman your brother married, keeping this fact from them—and me—and making me raise her as my own. I can tell Lori and Ronan you probably won’t be seeing a lot of Madison after he finally drops dead. That it is an arrangement. What are you paying her to cling onto your arm with starry eyes? Money? Shares? Status? Do you even see how pathetic it looks from the outside? Or maybe . . .” He got up, laughing as he shook his head, like this was nothing more than an elaborate personal joke. He was losing it. Crying. Laughing. Shaking all over. “Maybe I should just go directly to Madison and tell her about the kind of person she is dating. A man who fathered a child and didn’t even—”
He never got to finish that sentence.
I pounced on him with such speed we both sailed on the floor from the momentum, crashing against the glass door. Julian hit his head. I straddled him, no longer caring that we had an audience and that I was playing into his hands. Objectively speaking, I knew I looked like a certifiable asshole. But I’d reached the end of the road. Julian had sprinted past every red line I ever had and was officially so far off the rails he couldn’t even see the line. The idea of losing Madison after everything we’d been through—all the lies and bullshit and what-ifs and maybes—to something so stupid, so malicious, made my blood boil.
“Don’t you dare say her name again.” I balled the lapels of his suit, twisting them savagely.
Julian laughed, rolling his head on the carpet like a madman. “You fool. You goddamn fool. Your dick cost you your kingdom. Clementine is yours and the company is mine.”
He tried to punch me in the face, but I was quicker. People gathered outside my office, watching from the glass wall, their mouths hanging open. I threw a sucker punch straight to Julian’s eye. He cried out but continued trying to punch me unsuccessfully. “I will have your kingdom after the old man kicks the bucket!”
“Shut up,” I growled.
“And in case you are wondering, why, yes, I did fuck Amber while she was still yours. Before you even put a ring on her finger. When you still lived in your dorms . . .”
I punched him again.
And again.
And a-fucking-gain.
I couldn’t see past the red mist of anger and wrath.
Two burly security men stomped into my office, followed by my father, who must’ve arrived straight into this clusterfuck. He was holding a walking cane, hunched over it, the cane dancing between his fingers as he struggled to keep standing. His eyes said it all. He’d heard us. Every last bit.
Julian and I scrambled up from the floor, straightening our backs like two unruly punks caught shoplifting. Julian was banged up, with a black eye and open lip. It amazed me how we both were, in our core, still the same kids competing for our father’s precious approval.
“Back to work,” my father roared, turning around to glare at the people who stood behind him, ping-ponging their gazes from Julian and me to Ronan, whom they now knew was dying. People ran to their stations so fast you’d think their asses were on fire. Dad turned his attention back to us.
“In my entire seventy-two years of living, I’ve never been as disappointed as I am today. I thought I raised men. I knew you didn’t always see eye to eye. I wasn’t blind to the way you exchanged words and taunts from across the table during dinner for the past few years. I was terribly saddened when Amber decided to end her engagement to Chase and got with Julian so early afterward, but I held my tongue, knowing that, in essence, you were good men who were allowed to make mistakes and learn from them. Julian.” He turned to my brousin. Julian stared at the floor, blinking rapidly. “From the moment we took you in, you were the apple of our eye. You’re my son no less than Chase is.”
Julian’s head snapped up. “Then why did you give—”
“Because he is more suitable for the job,” my father clipped out, smacking his cane on the carpet. “He worked harder and, frankly, made fewer mistakes. His approach is more analytical, and he is not trigger happy when in crisis. He will be CEO because, in my opinion, he possesses the set of skills that a good CEO requires. You’re emotional, Julian, with the tendency for knee-jerk reactions. If you need a point of reference to why I couldn’t trust you as CEO, all you need to do is look back to your behavior in the past few years, or weeks even. Taunting Chase, trying to turn the shareholders against him, trying to make me sign contracts while I was half-conscious—yes, I do remember that—and spilling the beans about my illness publicly before I was ready to tell people.”
Julian let out a groan, covering his face with his hands. It was the first time he’d looked human in years. My father turned his head toward me, frowning.
“As for you, Chase, I really don’t know what to say. Faking an engagement to Maddie. Manipulating your family in order to secure this position—”
“It wasn’t about the position,” I bit out. “It was about you.” The admission felt bitter in my mouth. “I wanted you to think I had my shit together before we said goodbye. I wanted you to be proud.”
It sounded pathetic coming out of my mouth. So much so I wanted to laugh. Dad did laugh. Humorlessly, though. “Evidently, you’ve failed. Your shit is not together. Your shit hit the fan, and now everybody stinks.”
It was Julian’s turn to snicker. Bastard had the audacity to enjoy it.
“Now let’s talk about Clementine.” Dad tapped his cane again, redirecting the conversation to the part that mattered. It felt surreal to stand here in front of my father and watch him unravel every single embarrassing thing his two sons had done in the last decade. “Both of you will need to step up.”
“I will,” I said without hesitation, even knowing what I knew. It didn’t matter. I would always be there for Booger Face, until the end of time, in any capacity, no matter who she belonged to.
“Me too.” Julian nodded, sobered. “God, I’m not a monster. And anyway, a part of me always knew, I guess. Clemmy is mine. Always will be.”
Dad used the very last ounces of his energy to raise the cane, poking it in Julian’s arm. “You do not treat that kid any differently. It is not her fault she was born into the wrong situation. Am I understood?” He hovered the cane between the two of us.
“Yes, sir,” we said in unison.
My father shook his head, sighing. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go apologize to Lori for leaving her with this mess and bring her up to speed.”
He turned around and walked out of my office. It was only when he entered the elevator that I noticed Madison was on the other side of the glass.
She’d heard.
About Clementine. Or at least, what she thought was me fathering Clementine.
About our exposed charade.
About fucking everything.
“Mad, wait.”
But it was too late. She turned around and took the elevator down with Dad.
Chase: You’re not in your office.
Maddie: Thanks, Captain Obvious.
Chase: I’m coming to your place.
Maddie: I wouldn’t do that if I were you.
(I couldn’t, at this point, but it seemed like something people said often.)
Maddie: Which part, the one where your father uncovered us? Or maybe it’s the part where you screwed my brains out in my office, then proceeded to throw it in Julian’s face when he ruffled your feathers? Yes, Chase. Thin glass door. EVERYBODY heard.
Maddie: Or maybe you can explain the part where you FATHERED CLEMENTINE AND FORGOT TO MENTION IT TO EVERYONE?
Maddie: I thought I hated you then. I was wrong. This, right here, right now, is hate.
Maddie: There’s nothing to talk about. This was temporary, right? You said so yourself. Mission accomplished. You screwed me. You bragged about it. Everyone knows. Now let me go.
Maddie: And one more thing. Be good to Clemmy. That’s the least you can do.
It was pissing rain by the time the taxi stopped by Madison’s brownstone. I tucked the papers into my blazer to prevent them from getting wet, ducking my head as I slipped out of the cab. I punched her buzzer three times, pacing back and forth. No answer. I tried calling her. She didn’t pick up. I could clearly see her light was on through her window. Her plants tucked behind the glass cozily as the rain pounded on the glass from outside. I called and texted and begged for twenty minutes straight before the door opened from the inside of the building.
“Jesus, Mad. Finally. I . . .” I stopped when I saw who it was. Layla.
“Wow, Satan, you look like shit. Which is frankly an accomplishment, considering your genetics.” She bit off the edge of a Twizzler, taking a whole lot of pleasure in watching me soaked to the bone. She was still in. I was still out. Suddenly, I wasn’t sure what I was doing here in the first place. Madison had made valid points in her text messages—this was supposed to be temporary, and now we were uncovered. Done. What did I care if she knew the truth or not? Especially now, when my life was one giant fire in need of extinguishing.
“Let me in.” I scowled, noticing rain dripping from my hair and the tip of my nose. How come I didn’t even feel wet?
“Try again. This time nicer,” she singsonged, crossing her arms over her chest. Her neon-green bomber jacket matched her hair.
“Not familiar with the term,” I bit out.
“Crying shame.” She moved for the door, half closing it in my face.
“Please, may I come in?” I asked loudly. Fuck. She reopened the door.
“What are your intentions with my friend?” She pretended to consider my request, taking another bite of the Twizzler.
Well, I would like to explain myself, fuck her six ways from Sunday, then yell at her for being so goddamn impossible, then fuck her again.
“Talk,” I said, opting for the shorter, safe-for-work answer. “I just want to talk to her.”
The rain was pounding on my head. Layla was taking her sweet-ass time to make a decision. The list of people I wanted to kill was growing by the nanosecond.
“She’s hella upset with you, so you might get through this door, but not necessarily through her door.” She finally opened the door all the way. “Good luck, Satan.”
I raced up the stairs, taking them three at a time. When I got to Madison’s door, a rush of something weird washed over me. I could almost smell Daisy and the flowers and Mad’s shampoo and freshly baked goods through the crack of the door. I wanted to take a shit and a shower and a nap, then have two of her cupcakes with a side of a blowjob. I wanted her comfort, not another fucking quarrel out of the three thousand ones we had on a daily basis.
“Madison.” I pounded on the door. I dripped all over the hallway, my clothes heavy with rain. I couldn’t feel the lower half of my body either. My goddamn ass would probably need to be amputated after it froze off. “Open the door.”
“I don’t think so.”
I wondered how I’d ended up here. Not just today but in general. I’d seen this side of her door so many times, always with a half-cocked plan, forever with some explaining and convincing to do, constantly un-fucking-invited.
I begged and I stole and I bargained and I manipulated her so many times it became a full-time job to be around her. And whenever we were alone, when I finally had her to myself, I kept reminding her it wasn’t serious. That it was temporary. That I didn’t care.
Spoiler alert: I cared. A whole lot. That was a plot twist I hadn’t seen coming, and it made me stumble backward, my back pressing against Layla’s door (thank fuck she’d just headed out). I let out a frustrated growl.
Shit. I was in love with Mad.
Madison “Maddie” Goldbloom, of all the women in the universe. The girl who wore patterned, horrible clothes and had a short pixie haircut that had gone out of style in the nineties and was obsessed with pleasing people and flowers and weddings. I loved that she was sweet and kind and thoughtful but also sassy and quick witted and made her own money.
I was painfully in love with Mad, and I hadn’t even known it until it was a second too late.
“Mad.” I stumbled back to her door, plastering my forehead to it and closing my eyes. Jesus. Losing my father and the woman I loved in close succession was too much. What had I ever done to karma to deserve this lubeless ass fucking?
Never mind. There was a long list of whats.
“Chase,” I heard from behind the door. Her voice was soft, pleading. “There’s not much more to say. I feel humiliated. Nina has been bugging me all day at the office, and your family probably hates me, which I really don’t want to deal with, and the thing with Clemmy is straight out of a Ricki Lake episode.”
At least she hadn’t said Jerry Springer. Progress, right?
“Just open up. Please. I’ll explain; then I’ll go.”
“Not falling for that one.” I heard her smile bitterly behind the door. “That’s how you snuck your way back into my life in the first place.”
Knowing I couldn’t convince her, I turned around and slid my back across her door. Sitting. Waiting. She knew I was there. There was a pause.
“Are you sitting against my door?”
“Correct.”
“Why?”
“I want you to see something. I’ll wait.”
And I did. I waited for an hour and a goddamn half. I heard Madison going about her evening. Cooking (pasta, basil, and olive oil—the scent was too much not to notice), feeding Daisy, and watching an episode of You I hadn’t seen yet (God dammit). Then, and only then, she came back to the door.
“Okay. I’m ready to hear what you have to say, but make it quick.”
The door was still shut. I turned around, glowering at it. Fine. We were going to do it her way.
“I’m not Booger Face’s father. Here. I took a paternity test this afternoon. As soon as Julian showed me his.” I slipped the paper through the door crack. I’d known I couldn’t be Clemmy’s father. The dates didn’t add up. Not unless I’d managed to impregnate Amber from Malta, if I’d done the math correctly (and I always did the math correctly).
My eyes were fixed on the edge of the paper sitting under the door. Mad picked it up from the other side. I let out a breath, closing my eyes in relief.
“I always knew I could never be Booger Face’s dad. That’s why I kept asking Amber for a paternity test when she banged on about it. You think I’d turn my back on a kid of mine?” I growled. “Fuck, I love her like my own kid, and she isn’t even mine. In fact, she was supposedly the very goddamn product of my fiancée and brother bumping uglies behind my back.”
Silence. Ouch. Okay. In all honesty, I’d seen it coming. There was much more to my shitty behavior than supposedly not telling her I was my ex-fiancée’s baby daddy.
“Who’s her biological father?” Mad asked through the door.
“Some dudebro from Wisconsin. I went to confront Amber after I took the paternity test.” I ran a hand through my hair. “After Amber and I broke up, she got hit with the finality of it and tried calling me, ghosting Julian, trying to make amends. By then, I was traveling and didn’t pick up. She went back home to nurse her broken whatever the fuck she has in her chest. Clemmy’s dad is an old high school flame. Amber said she’ll talk to him. We’re figuring it out so that Booger Face has the best childhood.”
“What a mess.” Mad sighed.
“Yeah.”
“Poor Clemmy.”
I sighed. “Yeah.”
I loved my niece to death, but she wasn’t what I’d come here to talk about.
“Anyway”—I cleared my throat—“my family doesn’t hate you. Just putting it out there. Mom thinks I’m a first-rate asshole, and Dad is probably taking me out of his will. But they still like you. If anything, once I explained you didn’t even ask for money or anything and just did it for Dad, you became even more heroic and perfect.”
I’d call her Martyr Maddie, but the truth was lately she hadn’t been that same meek, insecure girl I’d met all those months ago at all. She stood up for herself constantly and only did what she believed in.
And unfortunately, it made her stupidly irresistible.
The quiet from the other side of the door grated on my nerves. I dragged my forehead over the wood, squeezing my eyes shut.
“I don’t want this to be over.” The admission fell from my mouth on a whisper.
I wasn’t ready to tell her everything yet. I recognized it seemed like a highly convenient time for me to realize I was in love with her. But waking up tomorrow knowing there was no Mad on the agenda seemed like a prospect worth offing myself for.
“Please.” Her voice trembled. “Leave.”
I pressed my fingers to her door, then walked away, respecting her boundaries for the first time since I’d met her. They said doing the right thing made you feel good.
They were wrong.
It felt shitty to do the right thing. Downright stupid. When I was back on the street, I looked up at her window, ignoring the rain pounding on my face. I saw her face pop behind the glass. She was crying.
And as I got into my Uber and the drops kept running down my face, I thought maybe so was I.
