by Shen, L. J.
“When is it due?” I asked.
“A couple months, so you better get your butt in gear.” He made a whiplash sound. “Oh, and before you ask—it doesn’t come with a bonus,” he pointed out dryly.
“Starving artist for the win.” I fist-pumped the air. “How is Francisco doing, by the way?”
“Still wanting a child.”
“And you?”
“Still wanting to run away with my Equinox trainer.”
“Liar,” I said softly, rubbing his forearm. I didn’t press for more info, though. If Sven wanted to tell me more about his adoption case, he would.
I was busy browsing through my assignment packet, memorizing all the details, when I heard a bored voice behind me. “Maddie Goldbloom?”
“Right here,” I singsonged, still on a high. I turned around, coming face-to-face with a young delivery guy in yellow overalls and a purple hoodie underneath. He was holding a bouquet of lilies.
“Delivery for you.” He thrust a digital screen at me to sign. I did, stabbing the screen with the gray plastic pen.
“Ugh. Those things never work. My signature ends up being nothing more than a jagged gray line,” I muttered, scribbling harder.
“Don’t worry, dude. It’s just for legal purposes. Nobody is planning to sell it on eBay.” The delivery guy flipped his hair sideways. I took my white lilies, placed them next to my own flowers, and fished for the note. I knew Nina was going to have a field day about the addition of more flowers to my corner of the office.
I finally found the small note and opened it with shaky fingers. I didn’t let myself hope. Which was a good thing.
Maddie,
After long and careful consideration, I decided whatever it is you are willing to give me—I’m willing to take it.
I’m in.
—Ethan
I took a picture of the note and sent it to Layla. Her name flashed on my screen after no longer than five seconds.
“Oh. My—”
“Don’t you have class?” I cut into her speech.
“I do. Teaching preschoolers independency and self-management is highly important, I’ll have you know.” She snickered. I heard her voice echo as she settled in the empty hallway. “I’ll be honest—I didn’t think Ethan had a chance after Chase barged back into the picture, but this is a game changer. He is basically agreeing to be the sidepiece. Juicy.”
“No, he isn’t,” I protested.
“You know what you need to do?”
“No, but I have a feeling you’re about to tell me.”
“You have to screw both and see which one’s better.”
I already had a feeling I knew who took the cake (and orgasms). I stared at the note tucked inside the flowers, feeling nothing but dread and disappointment.
“That won’t be fair to one of them.” I munched on my lower lip.
“Hmm, no. It would just cement the fact Chase surpasses Ethan and that you have to put on your big-girl panties and just cut Ethan loose. I’m the first to admit Chase is not boyfriend material—the guy is the male version of me. But Ethan . . .” Layla tsked. “Nah-ah.”
“Is that all?” I groaned.
“No. I also want to report Grant is excellent in the sack and congratulate you on your assignment. Love you.”
“Yeah, me too.” I hung up.
I texted Ethan a quick thank-you message, asking him if he wanted to grab coffee. It was the least I could do after his sweet gesture. His reply was immediate.
Ethan: I would very much like that.
I smoothed a blank page over my drawing board, blinking at it with a smile when I thought about my Dream Wedding Dress assignment. There was nothing that excited me more than a blank page. The possibilities were endless. It could be amazing or mediocre or bad or a masterpiece. The fate of the dress that was about to grace the page was yet to be written. It was my job to write its story.
“What am I going to do with you?” I whispered, tapping my charcoal pencil on my lips, grinning at the page.
“I’m thinking a good meal, followed by first base in the cab, followed by eating you out in the elevator up to my penthouse—sorry, I won’t be able to resist—followed by a fuck-fest that would make Jenna Jameson blush.”
I gasped, turning around to see where the voice came from. I recognized the deadpan, wry tone on impact. My knees buckled, but this time I didn’t fall off my chair.
“You cannot sa—”
“Not your boss,” he pointed out before I finished my sentence.
“Just because I don’t work for you doesn’t mean you’re not sexually harassing me.”
“Am I sexually harassing you?” He slanted his head sideways, cocking an eyebrow.
No.
My face must’ve conveyed my answer, because he let out a deep, rumbling chuckle.
“What are you doing here?” I scowled at Chase. He matched his black suit with a burgundy tie, hand tucked in his pocket, his Rolex poking out. He was the closest thing to corporate porn I’d ever seen in my life.
“Seeking you out,” he said unapologetically, glancing at the three vases full of flowers by my desk. “One vase you keep because of your mom,” he said, making my heart jolt in surprise. He remembered? “Who sent you the other two?”
“Someone I sent a wedding dress to.”
“And?”
“Ethan.”
“His are the lilies, right?” He approached the flowers, tugging at a petal. I flinched. “Nice choice. Is he mourning the premature end of your relationship?”
“The relationship with Ethan is not dead.”
He threw his head back, laughing carelessly. “Put him out of his misery, Mad. It’s game over for Dr. Seuss. A bunch of flowers aren’t going to change that.”
“A bunch of flowers change everything”—I slapped his hand away, protecting the flowers—“to a florist’s daughter.”
He cocked his head, looking at me funny now. I didn’t like his look. It was the look of a man with a plan, and I didn’t think Chase’s plans and mine were aligned.
“Is that so?” A glint of mischief flickered in his eyes.
I looked away as if hit by his beauty. I hated the giddiness that seeped its way into my gut every time his eyes were on me.
“Come with me.” He opened his palm. I didn’t take it.
“I don’t think so.”
“It’s not a request.”
“It’s also not the seventeenth century. You can’t order me around.”
“That’s true, but I can make a scene that would make you wish you’ve never met me.”
“I already wish that,” I quipped, lying.
“You’re wasting everyone’s time. Ethan’s, particularly. Martyr Maddie wants to have babies with Ethan. But the real you wants to take the plunge, drown with me. Come on.”
It was pointless to argue with him. Moreover, I couldn’t concentrate on creating the Dream Wedding Dress—DWD for short—when the mystery of what Chase wanted to show me hung above my head. It was disconcerting to think he had a sixth sense of when Ethan was making a move and had chosen the exact same day and hour to show up. I followed Chase to the elevator, dodging the curious looks of people around me. Sven had his back to us. He was tucked inside his glass office, talking on the phone animatedly with a fabric provider who had screwed up one of his orders. But Nina was there, poised elegantly in her seat, watching us while filing her nails. There were at least a dozen colleagues—designers, seamstresses, and interns—who eyed us curiously as we made our way out of the studio. Luckily, other than Nina, I considered most of them friends and knew they liked me enough not to think the worst of me. Still.
“People are going to talk,” I complained under my breath.
“As long as you are the subject and not the one doing the talking, I cannot see how this is an issue.”
We entered the elevator. “I’m not like you. I’m not untouchable.”
“Madison Goldbloom, I wish you were touchable
to me,” he said earnestly as the elevator doors slid shut on us in slow motion. “I wish that very, very much.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHASE
I took her to the biggest flower shop in New York City. A Midtown florist by the Empire State Building.
Mad dragged her feet and scowled the entire time like a pouty teenager, throwing looks over her shoulder to make sure we weren’t seen together. Most women I knew would pay good money to be seen with me. Not this one. Having her around felt liberating. Like taking a vacation from the chaos in my head. True, I was never going to offer her marriage, but I could still offer her a hell of a good time. This time, I was serious about making her mine.
Temporarily mine.
Hell, she could even reclaim her girlfriend title.
Bonus points: I’d get to keep Julian off my fucking case.
The plan was bulletproof.
We passed the florist’s display window. Bouquets of colorful flowers and a sign that said LOVE IS A BIG DEAL stared back at us. No wonder she was so obsessed with marriage and love—her parents had crammed it down her throat since the day she was born. I pushed the door open, waiting for her to walk in. Once inside, Madison turned to me, crossing her arms over her chest. She wore a yellow chick-patterned dress with a darling collar and a black velvet necktie and a youthful blush. Which, unfortunately, made me look like her perverted older uncle.
“What now? You’re going to buy me all the roses in the shop and proclaim your undying love for me?” She rolled her eyes.
“Not quite. I’m buying Ethan flowers.”
“You’re buying Ethan flowers?” Madison echoed, letting her mouth drop into a perfect O shape.
“Yes. And myself.”
“And yourself.”
“Are you just going to repeat everything I say?” I inquired politely.
“Yes, until you make some sort of sense to me.”
“Very well.” I took her hand in mine—the second time we’d held hands in a week—dragging her deeper into the store. The scent of pollen was so thickly sweet I almost gagged. I didn’t know how Mad could like it. But of course she could. It smelled like her childhood and nostalgia and her mother. I didn’t know how I hadn’t thought of it before. Kudos to Ethan for figuring it out before me. Flowers. Simply fucking genius.
“I understand you have some reservations regarding our relationship and would like to tweak the fine print of our arrangement. Remember I told you I want to keep doing this until my father passes away?” I asked, ignoring how bitter the words felt in my mouth.
Dad was feeling like shit, but he continued coming to work every day. Julian was running around dropping hints about the state of Dad’s health to shareholders and investors, anonymously tipping the media about a major change coming on the board. Grant had caught him in the act, after Julian had checked into a hotel room twenty minutes before a Wall Street reporter was directed into the same room. My best friend had been at the restaurant in the lobby of the hotel, having lunch with his mother.
My cousin was definitely going for what we called in chess “the double attack.”
“By ‘doing this,’ you mean ‘doing me,’ right?” Madison frowned, her eyes roaming the place like it was a candy shop. She couldn’t help herself. She touched an orange-purple flower, fingering its velvety petal between her fingers and shivering with pleasure. That was all it took to make my cock jerk in my pants.
“Yes,” I said. “But I decided to give you the whole fiancée package at the discount price of just having your company.”
“What does the fiancée package include?” She yawned. Not a good start.
“Dating, movie nights, restaurants, fucking, meeting your dad.” I let that last one sink in, watching her face, but she remained stoic, focused on the flowers in front of her as she leaned down to sniff the sunflowers.
“I’m serious about this,” I added.
“You cheated on me,” she pointed out for the millionth time.
Not this old tune again. It was time she knew the truth. I touched her arm, making her gaze dart up to mine. “I didn’t cheat on you.”
She groaned, pretending not to care. “I saw you.”
“No, what you saw was me coming into my apartment with someone else. You didn’t see me touch her. You didn’t see me kiss her. I never did.”
“There were lipstick marks on your dress shirt.” She turned around to me fully now. She wasn’t whispering either. A thirtysomething couple who was very clearly looking at flowers for their wedding eyed us curiously.
Keep watching, assholes.
“It wasn’t my shirt.”
“Of course it wasn’t.” Mad threw her head back and laughed. A bitter laugh I never wanted to hear from her mouth again. It sounded foreign. Completely un-Madison-like. The woman next to the man beside us elbowed her beau, cocking her head in our direction. Un-fucking-believable. I gave the husband-to-be a what-the-fuck glare.
He shrugged helplessly. “Sorry, bro. Sounds like you kind of brought this on yourself.” He chuckled.
I turned my attention back to Madison. “The shirt wasn’t mine. It was Grant’s. He hooked up with someone. No, let me amend—he was in the middle of hooking up with someone and got called in for work. Understandably, he couldn’t show up wearing a shirt that suggested he was vacationing in Ho Island.”
“So you volunteered your shirt.” More sarcasm.
“Correct,” I gritted out. “Remember that shirt? It was white. I don’t wear white. I only wear—”
“Black,” she finished for me, her eyes flaring. She had a light bulb moment. I’d worn black that day. Hell, I wore black any day. There was a beat of silence. The couple beside us looked invested in our exchange, and I’d have given them a piece of my mind if I weren’t completely focused on explaining to Madison what she’d really seen that night.
“It doesn’t matter, anyway. So what if it was Grant’s shirt? The woman you brought home was real. I saw her. I guess she just followed you? No”—she held her hand up, smiling, but there was nothing happy about that smile—“she was just running away from an ax murderer, and you gave her shelter, right?”
The woman beside us giggled. Her fiancé tucked his chin down, hiding a grin. I was going to kill someone. Likely myself for coming up with that stupid plan in the first place.
“I brought her home because I knew you’d be there,” I said dryly.
“You couldn’t have.” Mad shook her head. “I told no one other than . . .”
“Katie,” I finished for her. “Katie told me. I mentioned I might spend my birthday weekend in Florida with Grant. She told me I wouldn’t want to do that, then revealed your plan.”
By the look on Madison’s face, I knew the penny had dropped. Caught in an emotional tornado at the restaurant the other day, Mad had forgotten she’d told Katie about the birthday surprise prior to waiting in my apartment. So at the restaurant, she recited her story about the cheating bastard she caught, but she wasn’t privy to the fact Katie had told me about Madison waiting for me in lingerie in my bed.
And she forgot she herself had informed Katie she’d be waiting for me in my bedroom.
Katie wasn’t stupid. She’d done the math but hadn’t said anything. At least one person in my family already knew what Julian was dying to uncover—I’d fucked up.
“And you brought her home so I’d catch you.” Mad’s nostrils flared.
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I wanted you to see.”
“Why?”
“Because things were getting too real too fast, and I don’t do real, Madison. I think we both know I don’t do fast either.” I glared at the couple next to us pointedly. The guy blushed. Really? Now I didn’t even care his girl was judging me. She was sentenced to a life with a prematurely ejaculating husband.
“My life will not be disturbed by senseless, messy emotions.” I was mansplaining now. I needed to shut up.
“Okay
, RoboCop,” the woman beside us mumbled.
“You could’ve talked to me,” Mad said.
“From experience, women don’t get the message. They say they’ll take it slow, but that just means biding their time. And no offense, but you are the most wedding-obsessed woman I’ve ever met. You design wedding dresses for a living, and between your apartment and office, you have enough flowers to put Holland out of business.”
“You could’ve broken up with me.” Mad’s voice cracked midsentence. She wasn’t wrong, and I hated when she wasn’t wrong. I’d taken the coward’s way out.
“I figured you’d get the message, get mad, then reappear in the form of a fuck buddy.”
“Wow. For a smart person, you’re really dumb.” She sighed. In her defense, her face was full of awe rather than disdain.
“I concur.” The woman beside us lifted her arm. “Super dumb move.”
“Thanks for the input. I was anxious to know what a complete fucking stranger makes of my character.” I threw her a polite smile before turning my gaze back to Madison and gathering her palms in mine. “I can’t promise you forever, but I can promise you right now, and it’s more than I’ve ever offered a woman before.”
“Well, I appreciate your twisted, bizarre, backward-logic truth,” Madison said, plucking her hands from mine and smoothing her dress over her thighs. “But even if you haven’t cheated on me, the fact is you still hurt me. The answer is no.”
“I figured you’d say this. Hence why I came here to buy Ethan and me flowers.” I motioned around the flower shop like she didn’t know where we were. It was not my brightest move, but the success of my plan was in jeopardy. “You know your flowers, right? I’m going to get an identical plant for both Ethan and me. The one that’s most difficult to keep alive indoors—your pick. If Ethan really is Mr. Perfect and I’m such a shitbag, surely he can show his commitment by keeping the plant alive.”
She blinked at me. “Not following your logic.”
“The jasmines.” I worked hard on not baring my teeth like an animal. “You said you care when flowers die, right? Gave me a whole goddamn speech about it, if I recall correctly. You’re obsessed with flowers and keeping them alive.” I took a breath, realizing that she associated the flowers at her desk with her mother, and her mother was dead, and flowers really meant a whole fucking lot to her. “You’re rabid about the subject.”
