“I think you’re both wrong, but fine. If this is what you two want, then I’ll deal with it. It’s just that…Maddie, I want you to know that—”
“You coming, Garrett?” Dalton called out over his shoulder.
Garrett’s eyes lingered on her. She couldn’t bear to see the pain there, yet she couldn’t pull her gaze away. He looked at her expectantly, as though hoping she might change her mind, but she could only stand there, paralyzed.
What did he want her to know? She held her breath, hoping he would finish his sentence. Instead, he held her hand and raised it to his soft lips. Closing his eyes, his long lashes fanning out over his cheeks, he pressed a soft kiss on each of her knuckles, and then Garrett’s gaze went to the ground. As she let her hand fall from his grip, he slowly turned, following his brother out the door and out of her life.
Chapter Twelve
Madeline pulled her puttering car into a diagonal parking spot in SoMale right in front of Jacqueline’s. Grabbing her cotillion dress, swathed protectively in plastic, she got out and shut her door. She slipped her sunglasses on, hoping no one would recognize her and she wouldn’t have any unfortunate run ins.
Ever since she picked a fight with Dalton and Garrett, they had not called her, had made no attempts to see her. Anything dealing with the funding was handled with one of their personal secretaries. Those damn secretaries that looked like models.
Then there were the days, the selfish, I’m-feeling-sorry-for-myself days when she wished she were one of those beautiful women who had it easy because her lips were just the right puffiness or because her legs started where everyone else’s earrings did. She really hated herself those days and resented the fact that she was the type of woman who woke up every day at six-thirty and was showered, dressed, and blow-dried an hour later. She was so boring. So predictable.
Her blood started heating up just thinking about it. She wanted to storm through the Ellis Enterprises building and tell all the women there that Dalton and Garrett were hers, damn it, but she really could not justify any of it. Especially since it had been about a week and a half since Madeline had last seen or spoken to Dalton and Garrett, not that she was counting. She cringed as she came to the realization that she had been counting. It had been exactly eleven days.
After ten days of getting exactly what she asked for from Dalton and Garrett, she decided it was time to get rid of the dress Bea and Buford had picked out for her. It didn’t look like she’d need a gown for the ball after all. After the way she’d behaved, of course the men would have stopped calling her. They probably wanted an excuse to get out of their relationship, and she handed it to them on a silver platter.
Just as she was about to reach for the door, it swung open and hit her in the face, knocking her sunglasses to the ground.
“Well, look who it is.” Darla towered over her, three big shopping bags in each hand, as Madeline picked up her now-scratched sunglasses off the sidewalk. “What are you doing here in Male Order?”
Madeline ignored Darla’s petulant tone and straightened her shoulders as she stood to her full height. “I’m here to return something.” She tried to push her way through, but Darla stood her ground, blocking her path. Her gaze went to the dress Madeline held.
“Is that your cotillion dress? What happened? You get too fat? Oh wait, I remember. The Ellis brothers dumped you.”
Madeline rolled her eyes. “That’s not exactly what happened, but it’s none of your business anyway.”
“I knew you couldn’t hang on to them.” Darla’s beady gaze looked Madeline up and down, from her simple ponytail to her scuffed Converse sneakers, with palpable disdain. “I mean, look at you. You clearly don’t belong here in Male Order.”
Madeline’s stomach coiled tightly into a tense ball of pure hatred. Her fingers curled into angry fists that dug her nails into the soft flesh of her palms. She would have done anything to slap the plastic sneer off Darla’s face, but Madeline reined in her rage. Being in a catfight in front of Jacqueline’s was no way to be inconspicuous.
“And now that you’re out of the picture, Garrett and Dalton are fair game. I’ll have a gold band on my finger and be Mrs. Darla Ellis in no time. Just you wait and see!”
Well, now she was really pushing Madeline’s patience. She gestured to Darla’s shopping bags with her chin. “You know Darla, you can buy all the expensive clothes and pretty accessories in the world, but nothing’s going to cover up how cheap and ugly you are inside.” With a hard elbow to Darla’s ribs, Madeline forced her way into the store.
As the door shut behind her, she heard Darla gasp of outrage, “You better watch your back, bitch!”
Madeline gritted her teeth and walked briskly through the store, making eye contact with no one, and headed straight to returns. She took a deep breath before dumping her dress on the counter and worked all her energy toward not taking her anger out on the saleswoman.
“How can I help you today?” The saleswoman smiled brightly from behind the counter in a way that conveyed both warm hospitality and cool professionalism.
“I’m here to return a dress that was purchased here a few weeks ago.”
“What is the reason for the return? Is the dress damaged or didn’t fit?”
No, I’m the one that’s damaged. I didn’t fit. “I just don’t want it anymore, that’s all.”
“Okay.” The woman typed something into her computer. “Do you have a receipt?”
Damn. “Um, no, I don’t.” Madeline knew she had forgotten something. She looked down at the dress and realized she’d also never seen any tags on it either, probably because Bea wouldn’t have allowed for the tiny thread of plastic to mar the fabric.
“If you used a credit card to purchase the dress, I can look it up in our system.” The woman still smiled, but Madeline could see a hint of annoyance crinkling her brow.
“I didn’t use a credit card. I wasn’t the one who purchased the dress.” The rush of adrenalin she had felt when she ran into Darla was beginning to subside and be replaced with bone-aching fatigue. Her patience was hanging by a thread. She didn’t know what she was thinking coming here at all. This was a mistake. Getting involved with the Ellises was a mistake.
No, she reminded herself, the mistake was pushing away the two men who had treated her with more love and respect than she’d ever experienced.
The saleswoman seemed to sense the precariousness of Madeline’s hold on her sanity, and she smiled again. “I’ll get the manager.” The woman picked up a walkie-talkie and spoke softly into it. “Buford, this is Celeste. Could you come to customer service, please?”
Shit! The last thing she needed was Buford getting Bea involved. Madeline felt a wave of nausea come over her as her stomach did a couple somersaults into her throat. “I really must be going, I—”
“What seems to be the problem?” Too late. Madeline braced herself. “Madeline, is that you? What are you doing here in returns?” Buford air kissed each cheek. He then turned his head as if he were about to cough but then quickly took the pink and purple Bedazzled walkie-talkie and whispered, “Head Bitch, this is Tinkerbell. The cherry pie is in the oven. I repeat, the cherry pie is in the oven.” He looked back at Madeline as if that strange exchange hadn’t just taken place right in front of her. “You looked parched. How about a cappuccino?” Buford wrapped an arm around Madeline and guided her toward the coffee kiosk.
“I, uh, I just came to return the cotillion dress.”
Apparent shock formed a perfect O on Buford’s glossed lips. “Don’t tell me you got another dress somewhere else.” Buford held his hand to his heart as if to prepare himself for impending betrayal.
“No, no, it’s not that. It’s just that I won’t be needing the dress anymore because I’m…I’m not going to the cotillion.”
Buford gasped as if he had been told the most devastating news possible. Somehow Madeline knew Buford had already known she and the Ellis brothers had called it quits, and then the h
airs on the back of her neck stood on end. Instinctually, Madeline looked for her nearest exit, but again she was too late. She couldn’t fathom how quickly everyone in Male Order seemed to move. Perhaps that was one of the seven habits of highly effective people.
Slender fingers gripped her arm. Madeline whipped around and saw Bea standing behind her, hands returning to hips and her Jimmy Choos tapping away. She should have known Bea would be at Jacqueline’s. “Where have you been?” Bea’s voice was stern and the look on her face told Madeline she meant business. But then, just as quickly, Bea’s face warmed to a smile, and she pulled Madeline into her arms. “Oh, I can’t stay mad at you.”
Every muscle in Madeline’s body relaxed into the embrace as she inhaled whatever pricey and sophisticated perfume Bea had delicately misted herself with. “Hi, Bea.”
“Why haven’t you called me?” Bea pulled away and looped her arm into Madeline’s, leading her to a quiet sitting area in the department store. Bored-looking men sat in comfortable chairs holding their wives’ purses and shopping bags, napping or staring at nothing in particular.
“I’m sorry. It’s just that…” Madeline settled into the seat across from Bea’s. She didn’t know what to say.
“In the short time that I’ve known you, you’ve become like a sister to me, and sisters should be free to talk about anything together.” Bea’s sentiment warmed Madeline’s heart, and she suddenly realized how happy she was to see her. “I don’t know what exactly is going on between you and my brothers, but I want you to know that I’m still here for you, honey.”
“I appreciate that, Bea.”
“And I know it seems wholly uncharacteristic of me, but I do not intend to get in the middle of your relationship.” Bea reached for Madeline’s hand and then cradled it within her own. “Just tell me one thing. Do you love them? Do you love Dalton and Garrett?”
Madeline slowly nodded as a smile pulled the corners of her lips up as she thought about them and how they had made her feel so alive and complete, so cherished. They had given her strength, and ironically, it was that strength that made her think she was equipped to handle the consequences of what she said at the youth center that day. The dark sadness she’d felt the minute Dalton and Garrett walked away told her she’d made a horrible mistake, but by then, they were already gone. “I do love them, and I don’t know why, but I pushed them away.”
“Whatever is going on between you three, you’ll have to work out on your own.”
A deep sigh made Madeline’s chest rise and fall as it passed through her lips. “I don’t know if there’s anything to work out. They haven’t called me, but I haven’t called them either. And I don’t blame them. After what I said to them, of course they’d never want to speak to me again.”
Bea squeezed her hand. “Never say never. I know my brothers and I know how they feel about you. They’d be utter fools to let you go so easily. Just hang tight, honey.”
Just then Buford appeared and placed Madeline’s dress in her lap. “I think you left this at the returns counter by mistake.” Madeline hugged the dress to her chest and nodded. She didn’t think she’d get the chance to wear it, but a girl could hope.
Bea glanced at her watch and shot to her feet. “Shoot! I was on my way out to speak with the caterer when I got Buford’s signal, and now I’m late.”
Madeline remembered what Buford had said into the walkie-talkie and chuckled. “So, am I the cherry pie?”
Bea smiled radiantly and winked. “Of course, sugar.” She gave Madeline a peck on the cheek and skipped off.
Buford helped Madeline to her feet and walked her toward the front doors. “You’d think she’d let her assistants take care of all that stuff for her, but you know how Bea loves a fuss.”
“Yes, I’m beginning to see that.” Madeline waved goodbye to Buford as she left Jacqueline’s and got back into her car. As fortifying as it was to see Bea and have her be so supportive, in reality, her future with the Ellis brothers was as precarious as ever.
She looked in her rearview mirror as she pulled out of the parking spot and noticed a man standing across the street. He seemed to be watching her. There was something familiar about him, but she couldn’t place it right away.
When she drove past him she managed a small smile and friendly nod, but something about the way he looked at her made her pause. Then she recognized who it was and shrugged it off.
It was the man who had helped her with her car the other day. It was just Vincent Pierce.
* * * *
Dalton sat in his high-backed leather chair and gazed across the river toward Male Order. The large glass windows of his office faced east toward the center of town. From here he could see the charming restaurants, cafés, and boutique shops that twinkled in the distance.
Male Order wasn’t very big—population or size wise—but it had a big heart and a big spirit that could match that of any other place in the world. Of course, he was a tad biased. This was his home. In all his travels around the globe, this was the place he always came back to, would always come back to. Of that, he had no doubt. And another thing to add to the list of things he knew were undeniably, unavoidably true? He was a broken man.
He was halfway through his bottle of twenty-five-year-old single malt scotch, and the buzz was just starting to creep up on him. This was going to bite him in the ass. He knew it. Quite frankly, he didn’t care. He brought the crystal tumbler to his lips again and took a sip, letting the deep, rich flavors roll over his tongue and down his throat.
He’d grown up watching his fathers have a glass of scotch after a particularly hard day, and Dalton always thought that the sign of a true, successful grown-up. After his first big business deal, Dalton sat in this very chair and saluted himself with a glass of his fathers’ favorite scotch, savoring the victory as much as the taste of the spirit.
Funny, he didn’t feel like that now.
It was amazing how one person—one little waif of a person—could fuck things up for him. His whole world was off-kilter now, and it was all her fault. That woman who decided that she would just crawl under his goddamn skin and wrap herself around his heart.
When the hell did he give her permission to do that? How the hell had she managed it?
He was Dalton Ellis, for fuck’s sake. He did not have feelings, emotions, or feel anything akin to the L-word for anyone, save his immediate blood relatives. Everyone else could just take a number and wait in line because he just did not give a shit. And then came Madeline Spencer in all of her copper-haired, wraparound-skirted glory. God, he just wanted to go to her and throw himself at her feet and tell her to put him out of his damn misery.
Which just pissed him off. How dare she do this to him? Who the hell did she think she was?
Jesus, his chest hurt. He swirled the glass around and stared at the last drop at the bottom. The whiskey. It was definitely the whiskey.
The lights flipped on above him, and he squinted his eyes against the stinging glare.
“Well, aren’t we being a bit dramatic?” Garrett asked wryly from the doorway. “I had a feeling you might be hiding in you office, burying your sorrows in paperwork or…whiskey.”
“Oh, fuck off, Garrett.”
“And I thought I was the drama queen of the family. Well, king.” Garrett’s steps drew closer, and he dropped heavily into the chair next to Dalton and looked at him. “You look like shit.”
Dalton just grunted his reply. Then he saw his reflection in the glass and had to agree with his brother. At least this one time. His tie was loose, the knot hanging down by his collarbones, the top four buttons on his shirt were open, and his hair was spiky from running his hands through it a few too many times. His eyes were crazed, too. He looked like he did that goddamn morning when he woke up and learned his parents had all died in a car accident. Everything in his life had changed after that moment.
“What are you doing here?” Dalton asked. “You’re usually out on the town after a brea
kup.”
Garrett snorted at that. “Madeline’s not just another one of our girls, and we’re not broken up. You know, I don’t even think we were officially together, if you think about it.”
Dalton’s temper flared at that. “Like hell she isn’t our woman.”
“I never said she wasn’t our woman. I just said that technically I don’t think we’d actually claimed her yet.”
Dalton’s grip tightened on the crystal tumbler, threatening to break it into innumerable little pieces. “We’ll see about that.”
Garrett’s gaze landed on him and sharpened. “What are you planning?”
“Well, she said she didn’t think we could just throw money at things and make them perfect. What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Garrett recoiled. “I can’t decode woman speak. That’s a whole different beast. I know what they like in bed. I know what they want to hear, but they speak on an entirely different level than we do.”
Wasn’t that the truth?
Madeline’s face as she threw the words at them kept popping into his thoughts. There was so much anger and frustration, but there was something underneath all of her aggression. Christ, why didn’t he see it before?
Dalton sat up straight in his chair. “She’s scared, Garrett.”
“Of what? Your sorry ass?”
“No. I’m serious.”
“Fine. Lay it on me. What is this big revelation that’s got you all excited?”
“I think we took it too far in Argentina.”
Garrett’s eyes flew wide. “What? Do you think she thinks we forced her into something she didn’t want to do?”
“No. No, that’s not it.” Dalton watched his brother relax a little, but Garrett’s arms and legs were still tense. “Just the whole thing—the plane ride, the poems, the everything.”
“But that was the point. We wanted to sweep her off her feet, take her away from all the bullshit she has to put up with all the time.”
Mitchell, Ava and Holiday, Sydney - A Bride for Two Tycoons [The Male Order, Texas Collection] (Siren Publishing Ménage Everlasting) Page 7