by Sophia Henry
All of those things give me hope. Hope that when I tell her I have to leave, she’ll understand it’s because I want to spend the rest of my life with her without repercussions of a fake marriage—no matter how real it would be. I hope she understands I’m doing this for us.
Chapter Fifteen
Maddie
When I checked my calendar first thing this morning, I saw “Trent Anderson” on the schedule for the conference room, which is why I’ve steered clear of that part of the office. Still, it surprises me when I look up to see him looming in my doorway, his bulky frame taking up the entire space.
Blocking my exit.
A shiver rushes through me, like the air conditioner is on full blast. Fear-induced adrenaline pumps through me.
“I haven’t seen the contracts for the new designers come through my email yet. Is there a reason for that?” His demeaning tone and the way he phrases things grates on my nerves. He’s not my supervisor. Since we use his services as our company’s attorney, he’s nothing more than the hired help. Thinking about him that way makes me laugh, and gives me a much-needed burst of empowerment.
“I’ll have them to you when I’m finished. I’m quite capable of doing my job without you reminding me.”
“Well, demolition for the site of the mall starts in a few weeks, and you were supposed to have all the designer’s contracts in by demolition. Isn’t that correct?” His voice is hard and mocking.
“What are you talking about?” I ask. “We haven’t decided on a location yet. How can demolition be starting?”
“Didn’t Harris tell you? We pulled the trigger quickly on some land that came up for sale in NoDa. There’s a decrepit apartment complex on some of it right now. Owner needed a fast out. The contract has been signed for months. Residents have been notified.”
Technically, the location of the new mall doesn’t have anything to do with my particular position, but anything regarding the timeline certainly does. If demolition starts in a few weeks, not months, that moves the construction schedule up significantly too, which means this mall will be completed much sooner than I’d planned.
How could my father not tell me? Even if I wasn’t in on the meeting, how could there not have been an email chain or something? Is Trent right? Did I miss it and drop the ball?
My plan was to have five new designers lined up for the grand opening. I’ve been working on a three-year plan, including meeting with the designers on the various lines, when each would come out, and how we would market them. I’ve got four of the designers lined up, but this information changes my timeline drastically. It’s not the end of the world, but it means I need to contact all of the designers and start putting together a very specific—and fast—plan.
“Seems like you’ve been off lately, Madeline. Not quite the professional face of the Commons brand that we’re used to.”
“I always work at the top of my game and you’re well aware of that,” I tell him in a clipped voice. “If that’s all the business you needed to discuss with me, you can leave. I have a lot of work to do.”
“I know how hard it is. I’ll let you get to it.” He tosses a folder onto my desk.
With an exasperated sigh, I push back from my desk and stand up. “Look, I understand that you may still be hurt and upset with me, but we need to get past it. We’re going to have to work together. We need to put our feelings aside for the greater good.”
“Get over yourself, Madeline. Our relationship was nothing more than the obligatory courting before an arranged marriage. Our parents matched us for a specific reason. You’re a doormat. A beautiful girl with a bubbly personality and low self-esteem. You’ll smile and nod and do your cute little fashion work for now, but once you’re married, you’ll leave the business world to have babies and plan playdates with your girlfriends. Everyone knows it. It’s how your father marketed you. That’s the only reason anyone dated you. I’m glad you broke it off because now, I won’t be stuck with a sad, weak woman as my wife. Honestly”—he looks down at his nails—“I feel sorry for the man who has to marry you.”
My stomach tightens as if he just punched me. I bite my lip hard. The pain gives me something to focus on so I keep my composure.
“Get out of my office.”
Trent laughs. “Best mind your manners, Madeline. We’re going to have to work together, remember.”
He chuckles, brushes off one arm of his suit coat, then pulls the door closed behind him.
The solitude gives me the minute I need to break down. I slump over my desk and rub my face with both hands. There’s no time to cry. It’s not even an option. I haven’t cried at work once in my entire life, and I’m not about to start today. I’m stronger than that.
My body shakes, but I manage to take five deep breaths, which is what I always do to calm myself. I won’t let him get in my head. I won’t let him get me down. I have too much to accomplish today.
It’s almost ten o’clock. In an hour, we have a photo shoot and I have to be on top of my game. With a shake of the mouse, my blank computer screen comes to life. The light blinks on my phone, alerting me to a new voicemail. As I listen to the message, I scan my emails.
What in the world is going on today? Did I put some kind of bad karma into the world unknowingly that’s making the universe spit on me?
The art director got a flat tire driving in from Greensboro and can’t make it. The models aren’t here yet because the photographer told them the shoot was this afternoon instead of this morning. And my assistant, Katie, just burst into my office with a huge smile and an armful of orange flowers.
It’s a gorgeous arrangement, but I asked for pink flowers for this shoot. And I need a heck of a lot more than one freaking bouquet.
I’m about to lose it.
In addition to the work I’m doing to prepare for the upcoming store at the outdoor mall, Commons just brought on a new local designer and we’re doing a huge advertising campaign for the first line, which will come out in spring of next year. Orange doesn’t go with the outfits I have planned for the photo shoot. Orange is a fall color. Orange is—
“I asked for pink flowers. Pink. I reckon it’s not that difficult to get pink flowers. Aren’t pink flowers everywhere? Isn’t pink, like, the main color of flowers?” I’m talking to myself, but Katie is still in the room, so I assume she feels the need to answer my rhetorical question.
“Maddie, they’re—”
“They’re wrong is what they are!” I snap. “Look, I know you didn’t order me orange flowers when I specifically asked for pink, but can you please find out who did, because I’m going to fire—”
“Why do you hate orange?” Erik asks.
My head jerks up in surprise upon hearing his voice. But there he is, standing in the door of my office, looking hot as blazes in a crisp, white, button-down shirt, and dark jeans. He’s squinting as if confused, but has the cutest half-smile on his face.
“What? No, I—” I scramble for words. Maybe it’s hard to form words because I’m fighting to keep my tongue in my mouth. I have never seen him look so irresistible. “What are you doing here?”
“I wanted to say hi…and bring you flowers.”
I glance at Katie, who’s still holding the bouquet in her arms, though her smile is gone. The poor girl looks like a dam of tears is about to break.
Jumping from my seat, I grab the flowers from her arms and apologize. “I’m so sorry, Katie! I’m stressed out and frustrated this morning.”
“It’s okay, Maddie. I get it.”
“Can you check on the ETA for the models?”
“On it.” She nods.
“And can you figure out where the pink flowers we ordered are? If they don’t get here soon, I’m gonna have to have you run up to the farmers market.”
“Absolutely.”
As she shuffles out, I take a moment to compose myself—again. This time, I take my deep breaths with my nose buried in the lovely orange flowers Erik brought. I can
appreciate how gorgeous they are now that I know they aren’t meant to be for the photo shoot.
He slips into my office and shuts the door behind him. “Rough day?”
Yes.” I lift my face out of the flora and smile. “But it’s better now.”
“I didn’t expect to catch you in full boss mode.”
“Boss or bitch?” I ask, setting the vase on the upper corner of my desk.
“I gotta admit, it was pretty hot seeing you in charge. A little scary.” He holds his fingers less than an inch apart. “But still hot.”
I drop my face in my hands. “I’m so sorry. It’s been a stressful day already.”
“No, I’m sorry for dropping in unannounced. I should’ve texted first.”
“If it wasn’t this, it would be something else. I feel like things are spinning out of control recently.”
“What’s up?”
“We have this new line launching, which is fabulous, don’t get me wrong. But we also have five new stores in various stages. The one in Richmond, Virginia, is set to open in two weeks. Then, there’s a new one in Charlotte that we’ve evidently secured the land to build on. It’s moving fast now.”
“Another store in Charlotte? I thought all the major malls had one.”
“They do. This one will be the anchor store of—” I pause and glance at the door. I’m not worried about sharing with Erik; I trust him completely. I’m not going to tell him all the Commons Store secrets, but this one is one I can share. Lowering my voice, I continue, “We’re going to be the anchor store of a beautiful, new outdoor mall.”
“Really?” Erik lowers himself into the chair across from me and crosses his legs—ankle resting on the opposite knee. He looks so relaxed and comfortable in my office. But it’s not like I can climb over my desk and straddle his lap. My eyes veer to his crotch.
“What are you thinking about, Maddie?”
“Hmmm?” I lift my gaze to his quickly. Heat rushes to my cheeks. Not because I’m embarrassed—on the contrary, actually. If we didn’t have a group of people on their way to the office for this photo shoot…
“Seriously. What are you thinking?” Erik asks again. “You keep looking at my dick and you’ve got this devilish smile on your face.”
“Seems like you already know what I’m thinking about.”
He glances over his shoulder toward the door. “Wanna?”
“No!” I dismiss his question with a wave. “Although that would be a way to take my stress down a notch.”
“I should have called,” Erik says again. “Sorry.”
“Please don’t apologize. I appreciate you dropping in. I’ve never had anyone do that before.”
Trent would never drop by at my office when we were dating. Every part of his day was planned to the minute in his calendar. I hate to keep comparing Erik to Trent, because they are completely different people, but Trent is the only boyfriend I’ve had since I’ve been in an executive role at Commons. Sure, I had boyfriends in high school drop by when I was a cashier at the South Park Mall store, but that was totally different. My friends hung out at the mall all the time.
“Really?”
“My daily schedule is usually pretty packed.” My eyes drop to his chest. “I thought yours was too. Why are you all dressed up? Aren’t you working today?”
“I am. But I had an appointment with a lawyer this morning.”
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “Just making sure I’m doing everything right to be able to become a U.S. citizen one day, ya know.”
I get up, walk around the desk, and drop myself in his lap. Wrapping my arms around him, I say, “I’m glad you stopped by. It makes me happy when you do sweet things like that.”
Erik kisses my forehead. “You’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. Doing sweet things for you is as easy as breathing.”
Every word makes my heart beat faster. I’m not used to the kindness and compliments. “I’m very lucky to be yours.” I rub my hand across his chest.
“You like this look?” he asks, glancing at his button-down.
“Absolutely. But I like you in muddy work boots and sweaty, smelly T-shirts too.”
He laughs. “Good to know.”
“I like you however I get you. Clean and debonair or dirty and rough.” I nip his ear and wiggle my butt against him. His erection grows beneath me.
“You come across so proper,” he growls. One hand slips underneath my skirt and glides across my thigh. “But I know you like it dirty.”
I swallow back the lust. As much as I want to pursue this right now, I honestly don’t have time. “I do. And I’m going to schedule you in for this on a day that I have free time.”
Erik throws his head back and laughs. “Way to ruin the mood.”
“What?”
“Let me schedule sex,” he says in a high-pitched voice.
“I’m a busy—”
“Executive! I know,” he teases. Instead of continue his original sexual pursuit, he starts squeezing my thigh in multiple places. I curl into his chest. “A bossy, hot, Southern, smart, sexy, executive that I get to fuck every night.”
“That’s the spirit,” I say through a laugh.
“I love every minute I get to spend with you, Madeline Commons,” Erik whispers. “Always remember that.”
After Erik leaves, I peer into the folder Trent brought to my office earlier. It’s a set of colored brochures with information regarding the site of the outdoor mall in Charlotte. I skim the bullet points and scan the map. The area pictured sets off an alarm in my head.
After a closer inspection of the map, I realize why the street names sound familiar.
The outdoor mall is being built on the site of Erik’s apartment building. He was displaced because of us.
Chapter Sixteen
Erik
“Is this all you have?” Maddie asks, eyeing the boxes in the back of my truck.
“I’ve got a dog and two duffel bags in the front.” I point over my shoulder with my thumb while shifting a few boxes that got jostled around in the bed of my truck on the drive to Maddie’s. I’m bringing most of them over to Hugo’s garage, which is where I store my trailer and equipment. Anything I’ll need over the next few months is in the duffels.
“This is all you own?” she asks again. I think it’s confusion, but her voice has a gloomy lilt. “Everything fits in your truck?”
I’ve already donated all of my furniture and a ton of random household things to the Habitat Restore, but I don’t want to tell Maddie that. “Well”—I scratch my head—“I took a lot of stuff to Hugo’s already. No reason to bring it here since you have furniture and everything I need for the kitchen and bathroom.”
She nods. “What about personal belongings? Books?”
“Anything like that is packed up, but honestly, I don’t keep a lot of stuff. I live pretty simply.”
Minimalism isn’t a hard concept for me. Growing up with grandparents who were teetering on the line of hoarder territory, made me realize the value of experiences over things. What’s the point in having a house full of stuff you never touch? My grandfather owned every Beatles album ever recorded, but his broken record player has been broken since the day I moved in. Grandma had three closets overflowing with clothes, but wore the same outfits over and over again—saving her “good” blouses and slacks for a special occasion that never came.
They had a houseful of unused stuff that they wouldn’t part with. Every time I tried to gather items for a garage sale or Salvation Army donations, they fought me tooth and nail over every little thing. Finally, I stopped asking.
Their house was a bitch to clean out after Grandpa passed away. I hate piles of stuff laying around—whether it’s mail or magazines or dishes in the sink. I hate knickknacks and tchotchkes. Maybe I take it to the opposite extreme—but it’s the end I’d rather be on.
She nods, but there’s
a look of awe on her face.
“My grandparents hoarded stuff, not garbage or anything gross, just things. Cleaning out their house after my grandpa died was a nightmare,” I explain. “I felt bad getting rid of their possessions, but it had to be done because they kept everything.”
Maybe that’s why I don’t have sentimental attachments to things. I remember every fishing trip with my grandpa and every pie I watched my grandma bake, but I don’t need to save the fishing pole or the pie tin.
“Oh, well, that makes a sense.” She smiles.
“I saved a few of my grandfather’s old flannels. I wear them, so it’s not like they’re just hanging around.”
“Vintage hipster,” Maddie quips.
“I also kept my grandparents’ wedding album and some family photos too. I’m not completely heartless.” I give her a quick kiss as I pass by. “I’ll be the easiest roommate ever. All I need is a bed, electricity, and water.”
“I want you to feel at home here. You don’t have to be a ghost.”
“That’s a great comparison! I’m a ghost. Call me Casper.”
“Do you need any help getting theses boxes upstairs, Casper?”
“You can see me?” I whisper, faking astonishment.
“You aren’t right in the head.” Maddie yanks the passenger door open and Ramos bursts out, immediately jumping up to give her love.
“Ramos! Down!” I command, but both the dog and Maddie ignore me. Maybe I am a ghost.
“Hey, baby!” she greets him, scratching him behind his ears with both hands, and he bounces on his hind legs. His front paws claw her T-shirt straight over her tits, and suddenly I wish I’d greeted her that way. Wonder if she’d give me a rubdown?
I heft two duffle bags onto each shoulder and follow Maddie and my pup into the elevator that will take us to her condo. Having to go up and down an elevator to take Ramos out is gonna suck, but I can’t complain since Maddie was kind enough to let me live with her for a few weeks.
