You’re not some love-struck teenager. What the hell is the matter with you? Stop thinking about her. Not gonna happen.
Minutes later, he wrapped a towel around his waist and wiped his hands to clear away the fog, grimacing at his reflection in the mirror. With his bloodshot eyes, and his blonde hair sticking up in tufts atop his head, he looked like he’d just crawled out of a grave and was masquerading as a human.
Well, there was nothing to be done about that except gulp down some scalding hot coffee, munch on a slice of toast and hope that throwing himself into his work would make matters better.
Above all else, he had to avoid Madeleine at all cost.
HE BLINKED, EYES BURNING as the words swam in front of him, leaping off the page in no discernible order. Blindly, he reached behind him, for the tray he knew William kept on the small table, his fingers closing around a biscuit.
Crumbs fell onto his shirt and into his lap, flying out in other directions as he swallowed it up, reaching for a second and a third, the sentences finally making sense. He reached backwards for a few more, but his fingers came up with thin air, prompting him to frown and swivel around.
Nothing.
In the span of a few minutes, he’d cleared out the entire plate of cookies, without even a single crumb to speak off. He sighed and poured himself a cup of hot tea, the steam rising up, tickling the bridge of his nose, before it evaporated.
God bless you, William.
He really had no idea what he would’ve done without the impeccably dressed man, with a shock of white hair and kind brown eyes. Not only did William make sure the house was in order at all times, making sure every surface practically gleamed, but he also kept an eye on Geraldine, as if she were his own.
Yes, William was a man with a strong work ethic, but also a kind and honorable man, who always went above and beyond to ensure that their family was well looked after, and that the best team kept their house in order.
Then again, he always had.
Suddenly, Hank’s stomach grumbled in protest, long drawn out noises, like that of a whale echoing back to him in his office. He placed his hands atop his abdomen and patted it, forcing himself to his feet as he did, his legs aching from being in the same position for too long.
In one swift movement, he crossed from behind his mahogany desk, passed down from his father, and stood in front of the door, which creaked as he pushed it open. Only one light remained on in the hallway, while the rest of it stayed dark, shadows dancing in his field of vision.
He shoved his hands in his pockets and made his way to the kitchen, smiling at the sight of a small plate in the center of the counter, wrapped in aluminum. Carefully, he uncovered it, and placed it in the microwave, drumming his fingers across the granite counter with one hand and scrolling through his phone with the other as he waited.
“You really are a workaholic, aren’t you?”
Hank jumped up. “Jesus, you shouldn’t sneak up on a person like that.”
Madeleine shrugged. “You were in your head. I could’ve dressed up in a bikini and did the hula, but you wouldn’t have noticed.”
Behind him, the microwave pinged. Grateful, he turned to face it, setting the food on a tray as he did. “I’m not oblivious. Just busy.”
Studiously, he avoided her gaze even as he caught sight of her dimple, his heart doing an odd little lurch.
“I can see that,” Madeleine commented, self-consciously running a finger over her jeans. She paused and took a deep breath. “So, I was wondering if we could talk.”
“We will, but I have lots of work.” Hank carried the tray with both hands, gripping it as if his life depended on it. “I’ll see you around.”
He hurried across the hall like he was on fire, as if his life depended on it, and once he rounded the corner, he kicked the study door open and leaned against it, heart pounding against his chest.
Coward.
Chapter 2
Madeleine.
“Hello? Maddy?”
Madeleine blinked, Geraldine’s disgruntled expression swimming into focus. She shot her an apologetic look and held up her hands, an olive branch. Gerry swung her arms back and forth, some of the water sloshing over.
“I’m sorry, Gerry,” Madeleine offered. “I just spaced out.”
Gerry raised an eyebrow, a quizzical expression on her features. “You’ve been doing that a lot lately.”
“I have?” Madeleine inched closer to the pool, her Kindle clutched protectively to her chest, the sun shining down on her bare, rolled up sleeves. Eventually, she paused, holding the Kindle with one hand and using the other to unbutton her shirt, peeling it off her back and tossing it across the deck chair.
Her white tank top clung to her back, showing off a little more skin than she’d like, but without Hank around, she didn’t think it was a problem. On a warm Monday afternoon, it was mostly just Geraldine and herself in the house, with the day stretched out before them, languid and lazy.
“Ever since I went to the hospital,” Geraldine pointed out. “You don’t have to be worried about me anymore. I’m never going near that awful place again.”
As if to prove her point, Geraldine gave a delicate little shudder, her face screwed up in concentration, her lower lip puckered. Madeleine stared, caught unaware by how much she looked like her father in that moment, her stomach twisting on itself as recalled their night together.
It had been a week since Hank followed her into the bedroom.
Seven days since he’d looked her in the eye.
Instead, he locked himself up in his study, pouring over his work as if the devil was looking over his shoulder, or staying out at all hours. In fact, if she didn’t know any better, she’d say he was avoiding her, a deadly virus he didn’t want to contract.
But that was ridiculous.
He was a grown ass man, and this was his house not hers. Besides, they were two civilized adults, and there was no reason for either of them to tiptoe around each other, or act as if the world had shifted on its axis.
Even if it had, for Madeleine at least.
In all honesty, she had no idea what to make of her feelings for Hank, or whether she could make heads or tails of them. All she knew was that she was a hopeless romantic, and somehow he’d managed to get under her skin, making her realize just how much she missed having someone.
Not just anyone but him.
Just thinking about him made her heart flutter, the butterflies in the pit of her stomach flapping their wings incessantly. Madeleine blinked, bringing her mind back to the present as she realized she’d been staring at a fixed spot, with Geraldine impatiently waiting for her response.
She set her Kindle down on a table and crouched near the edge of the pool. “Oh, honey. You don’t have to avoid the library because of what happened. It was only because of the dust, and I know it must’ve been horrible, but I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Geraldine looked up at her, her bright honey colored eyes filled with hope, and a hint of skepticism. “Really?”
“Really really,” Madeleine responded, holding out her pinkie finger.
Geraldine giggled and swam close to the edge, holding up her hand as she did, their pinkies tightening around each other. “Even during Daddy’s awful dinner party?”
Right.
She’d almost forgotten about it.
Her skin crawled just thinking about being around those filthy rich people, in their expensive Armani suits, with the women in dresses painted over their bodies, leaving little to the imagination.
Needless to say, she’d rather be left out of the dinner entirely, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of it that easily. After all, Geraldine was expected to make an appearance, and Madeleine would be expected to follow in her wake, proper and in the background.
“Even then,” Madeleine promised. “You’re not looking forward to it?”
Geraldine made a face. “I don’t like Daddy’s work people. They smell fun
ny, and the women barely have any clothes on.”
Madeleine snickered. “I’m sure that’s not true.”
Geraldine frowned. “Yes, it is, and mommy didn’t use to like them either.”
“She was a wise woman,” Madeleine observed, taking her hand back. She ruffled Geraldine’s hair, trying to dispel the dark shadows that aroused whenever they spoke of Lily. “I bet she’d be really proud of you.”
Geraldine pushed herself further out. “I want to be an artist like her.”
“I think that’s great.” Madeleine looked down both sides of the pool before she bent down, rolled up her jeans and ducked her legs in, the cool liquid making her sigh as she used her arms to prop herself up.
“Can you tell me one of your favorite poems?” Geraldine called out, her head tilted back to enjoy the sun. Madeleine paused, sifting through her thoughts before she settled on one, and cleared her throat.
“She walks in beauty, like the light, of cloudless climes and starry skies, and all that’s best of dark and bright,” Madeleine recited, her voice hushed, full of reverence and awe.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Geraldine making a beeline for her, beckoning her forward. “I want to show you something.”
Madeleine straightened. “Are you alright?”
Geraldine nodded, floating in front of her, her legs kicking out, a flurry of energy. “Yeah, I’m okay, but I have to show you.”
“Show me what?”
No sooner had the words left her lips than Geraldine grabbed Madeleine’s arms, her grip tightening around them before she dragged her backwards into the cool water. She kicked for the surface, sputtering and gasping.
“Gerry, what was that for?” She pushed her hair out of her eyes.
“Because I wanted to. You looked like you needed it,” Geraldine replied, shrieking as Madeleine tried to grab her. She lurched forward, waddling awkwardly in her wet clothes, doing her best to look stern but failing miserably.
After an hour of a failed, yet hilarious attempt at chasing Geraldine through the water, the two of them made their way out of the pool and sloshed back into the house with Gerry racing ahead in her swimsuit, a towel wrapped around her waist.
Madeleine paused at the threshold of the backdoor, glanced around then slipped off her white tank top, leaving her in her bra and jeans. With trembling fingers, she reached for the extra towel lying around and wrapped it around herself, breathing a sigh of relief.
On the tips of her toes, she snuck back in the house, clutching the towel like her life depended on it, careful not to leave any droplets of water lest William come after her and lecture her about proper decorum.
“Madeleine, what are you—“
Madeleine jumped into the air, releasing her hold on the towel, a small gasp of surprise escaping her lips. Hank’s eyes widened in surprise, the rest of the sentence dying on his lips as he took her in, his eyes lingering a little longer than necessary, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.
“I, I, Gerry, she, um, pushed me into the water,” Madeleine stammered, finding herself unusually tongue tied.
Damn it, Madeleine. Pull it together! And get that towel while you’re at it.
She jerked and reached for the towel, her hand brushing against his as he picked it up and handed it to her, his eyes never leaving her face. “Here you go. You should be more careful next time.”
A hot flush crept up, turning the tips of her ears red. “Careful?”
“Gerry can catch you by surprise,” Hank added, his voice unusually gruff. He paused, and cleared his throat. “Anyways, I’ll let you clean up.”
Abruptly, he spun on his heel and left, leaving a bitter tinge of disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She stared at the spot he occupied then gave a slight shake of her head and headed up the stairs and back to her room, trying to push away any feelings of humiliation.
Hank was her boss.
Period.
There was nothing to lament or regret.
Besides, she wasn’t entirely sure she was the first woman he’d been with since his wife’s death. In retrospect, it had been a few years, and she doubted the man lived like a monk, not with his looks, his charm, and his wealth.
Stupid Madeleine.
She stopped at Geraldine’s door, and pushed the door open. Distracted, she helped Geraldine into the shower, scrubbed her hair and got her into a fresh pair of clothes, then left her in the care of William while she got herself cleaned up.
Hank Lorum was not for her, and she had no business wishing otherwise anyway.
“YOU LOOK MUCH BETTER than any of those ladies, Maddy,” Geraldine complimented, giving her a sigh as she dropped into the chair and swung her legs out in front of her. “I hate being paraded around like a pony.”
Madeleine crouched in front of her, careful not to let the dress touch the floor, a present courtesy of her employer, but she had no idea where to be pleased or angry that he felt she had to dress up for the occasion.
All for the purpose of making him look better.
“First of all, that’s not a nice thing to say. I think those women look lovely,” Madeleine said, reaching across the table to hand Geraldine a glass of water. “Second, you are not a pony. Your father is just proud.”
From her vantage point, with the kitchen door propped open, she could see flashes of expensive dresses, in all shapes and colors, with the women moving from one end of the living room to the next, the sickly smell of perfume making her gag.
The men, on the other hand, stood in a cluster, hands shoved in their pockets and chests puffed out. The entire affair was far too pretentious for her taste with the glittering chandeliers, and the gleaming silverware, but she had to admit the food had been delicious, and she did rather enjoy helping Geraldine dress up, having never had an occasion to attend such an affair before.
A small part of her felt like a princess, and by some stroke of fate, a fluke really, she was here, witnessing it all from a safe and happy distance, grateful to be on the sidelines. At the end of the day, as beautiful as it was, it wasn’t her world, and she had no issues with that.
All at once, she spotted Hank in the far end of the room, dressed in a tailored suit, his hair tousled and styled, giving him that artful effortless look, his jade green eyes squinting in concentration as he spoke to an older distinguished looking man.
The two of them looked deep in conversation until a woman glided over, dressed in a gown of deep cobalt with a slit on the side, and a plunging neckline, the diamond necklace around her neck blinding.
Once she reached them, Hank’s expression lit up as he turned away from the man, her ruby red lips placing a kiss on both cheeks, and lingering a little, doubtless giving him a view of her cleavage.
Madeleine stood up, swallowed past the acid in her throat and turned away, unexpected tears stinging the back of her eyes.
“Who is that?” Geraldine asked, echoing Madeleine’s own sentiment.
Madeleine blinked furiously, and turned to face her, plastering a smile onto her features. “I have no idea, but it seems like your father knows her.”
Geraldine sat in her chair, facing the door, disapproval written all over her features. “Well, I don’t like her.”
As if he sensed they were talking about him, Hank glanced up, his eyes zeroing in on them. Geraldine gave him a small wave, but Madeleine remained rooted to the ground, offering him a stony look in response.
The redhead was everything Madeleine wasn’t, and the sooner she could accept that, the better it would be for everyone.
Chapter 3
Hank.
Cheryl threw her head back and laughed. “You haven’t changed a bit, Hank.”
“But you have,” Hank pointed out, downing the last of his whiskey on ice and signaling for another. He tugged on his tie, the cloth feeling more and more like a leash around his neck. “I wouldn’t have recognized you if you hadn’t come up to me.”
Cheryl raised an eyebrow, her li
ps curving into a smile. “Shame on you, Hank. A man never comments on a lady’s age.”
“You and I both know that you’ve aged well,” Hank pointed out. “I haven’t seen you since....how long has it been?”
“Not since junior year of college,” Cheryl responded, pausing to take a sip of her champagne. “Those were the days, right?”
Hank smiled, nostalgia creeping on him. “Yeah, they were.”
Back then, he wasn’t Hank Lorum, head one of the biggest corporations in the world, with people hounding and pounding at his door, always wanting something, always demanding more.
In college, he was just Hank, a young man who liked to let his imagination run wild even as he dutifully followed in his father’s footsteps, majoring in business to appease him, but minoring in art.
Eventually, he’d realized he didn’t have a single artistic bone in his body and was forced to drop all of the courses, sticking to business entirely, but he’d never regretted it. Without those hours spent toiling away in front of a canvas, he never would’ve met Lily.
At the memory of his ex-wife, Hank straightened his back, his easygoing smile fading. “How are you? How’s Richard?”
“Richard?” Cheryl repeated, shooting him a look over the rim of her glass. “You haven’t heard? We divorced a while ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“I’m not.” Cheryl waved his comment away, an air of dismissal and finality in her tone. "We just weren’t a good match, and marriage isn’t for me anyway. Not for a good long while at least.”
Hank offered her a weak smile.
“I was sorry to hear about Lily.”
“Thank you.”
In his peripheral vision, he spotted Madeleine across the room, the door to the kitchen left propped open, a small crack enabling him to keep an eye on Geraldine and let his gaze drift over to her every so often.
Dressed in a gown that fell just past her knees, the color of deep gold and a V-neck, she was a vision, catching him by surprise whenever he saw her. Then again, she always did whether she was in a nice dress, or in an old shirt and ragged jeans.
From Loss To Love Box Set Page 5