Mad Love

by Ashlyn Mathews

  Father was strict but loving, and now, I’m to believe he was a monster, cut from the same cloth as Cillian McCabe, a ruthless mobster?

  The elevator dings and the doors open. We step out and approach the double glass doors.

  “Blaise, are you sure about this?” Collins hands me the briefcase.

  I nod. “It’s the only option that will buy me time.”

  I glance at the glass doors separating me from the man waiting inside his spacious office. This is the part where I go in alone.

  On the outside looking in, the office is sterile. White walls. No paintings to liven up the space. The chairs are a solid tan with no lines or designs. Even the lone occupant in the room blends in with the blandness, with his crisp white shirt and unimaginative simple blue tie.

  “Are you sure you want us to leave, Blaise? Granger and I don’t mind waiting.”

  I give Collins and Granger a slight shake of my head. He is wickedly handsome with the scar across his face, and Collins is flawlessly beautiful with her big brown eyes, naturally sun-kissed skin, and lopsided smile.

  You would think Granger would fall hopelessly in love with the Asian beauty, but Granger isn’t into quirky and meddlesome. I wonder what kind of woman will bring my brooding friend to his knees.

  “Thank you for being my friends, and cross your fingers this works. If it does, I will see you two soon.”

  “And if it doesn’t?” Granger crosses his arms over his chest, looking like he’s ready to knock heads together. Or at the very least knock Maddox’s head into the wall if Maddox refuses my offer.

  One of the security guards opens the door for me. It’s my cue to move it or I’ll lose my chance, and the three of us will be escorted back down to the lobby.

  “I haven’t thought that far,” I answer.

  I haven’t. It’s overwhelming knowing that my grandfather’s death will be lambasted all over the news and the tabloids. It’ll also be revealed that I am, for the most part, broke. But my showing up for a meeting with Maddox has nothing to do with money and everything to do with protection. I text messaged him for a meeting to discuss handing over the car to him, and wasn’t surprised when he answered immediately.

  From Granger’s report on him, Maddox has a one-track mind. If he wants the car, he’ll laser-focus on getting the car. I admire his tenacity, though being on the receiving end of it isn’t pleasant.

  “Good luck, Blaise.”

  Collins leans in, and we do this air kiss thing, our lips not touching one another’s cheeks. It’s pathetic that I can’t stand to be touched even by those closest to me.

  Straightening to my full height, and with my shoulders pulled back, I walk over the threshold and up to Maddox’s desk in the middle of the room. He watches me with his hands tented over his mouth. What is he thinking?

  From the coldness in his eyes, he doesn’t like me. I don’t blame him. Though we shared cheesy banter last night, I am not his type. I’m too quiet and strange for his tastes. Maybe more on the boyish side too, with my lean body and small breasts.

  I’ve seen pictures of the women he’s been linked to, and they are full figured, big breasted, and tall, and he is into blondes and redheads. Good. If I’m not his type, there’s less of a chance of being touched by him.

  I lower myself into the chair across from him, pull the proposal out of the briefcase, and slide the contract over. After he’s done reading what I’ve written, he pushes his chair back, comes around his desk, and rests his hip on the corner, forcing me to glance up at him.

  Gritting my teeth, I move my chair back and stand with my gloved hands clasped behind my back. For this arrangement to work, he has to see me as an equal and not as the conceding party. There’s not much I’m giving away except for my parents’ prized car. Parting with the car Dad proposed to Mom in weighs me with this deep loss, second to getting the news from Arthur that my grandfather passed away this morning.

  “Why do you need to stay at my place when you have men, money, and a gated and secure estate at your disposal?”

  “Your place has fingerprint access and it’s on the fortieth floor.”

  “You also require use of my security detail?”

  “Only for when I leave your penthouse.”

  “I gather from past history, it won’t be much at all. Am I correct?”

  “You are,” I answer.

  His gaze is searing. I understand his hesitation. I’m not bringing much to the table.

  “Marriage to you and I finally get the X-R 85?”

  I can’t tell whether his disbelief is in having to marry me, or that he’s getting what he wants after pestering me and my team for the past year.

  “Betty? Yes.”

  The harsh lines on his face soften. “How are you so sure the car is a she?”

  “My dad doesn’t fawn over boy cars.”

  His gorgeous blue-green eyes sparkle. “Is that so?”

  “Yes. Your answer, please.”

  “You’re begging?”

  “Time is of the essence.”

  “Why are you desperate to get married, Blaise?”

  “I need the protection only your name can give me.”

  “You’re in danger?”

  I blink. “Nothing serious.” Desperation makes it easy to lie.

  “What if this not-too-serious danger of yours takes more time to resolve?”

  “The maximum is three months as stipulated in the contract.”

  Three months is enough time for my team to find my kidnapper, as well as for me to have a solid plan on making money.

  “And we can stray from the marriage so long as the affairs are discreet?”

  “Per the contract, yes.”

  “Will you move your bodyguard into our place, darling?”

  “Of course not. That’s the very definition of indiscretion.”

  “You’re okay with me fucking other women while married to you?”

  “If it’s what you want. I would never rob you of your freedom. Your name is compensation enough.”

  “You don’t want my money? My body?”

  I blink. “No.”

  “Three months max, and then we divorce and go our separate ways?”

  “Yes.”

  He reaches for the contract, grabs a pen off his desk and signs on the provided line.

  “You have yourself a deal. Now hand over the keys and the title.”

  6

  Maddox

  The next few hours are a whirlwind of activity. As soon as I sign the contract, Blaise gets on her phone. Her bodyguard and a sexy young Asian woman dressed in a navy-blue pencil skirt and peach top waltz into my office.

  Blaise introduces me to Collins, her assistant, and after formalities are dealt with, I may as well be invisible to Blaise, Collins, and the bodyguard with the messed-up face. Granger. He’s driving the SUV that will take us to the County Clerk Recorder’s Office.

  “I called in a favor. The marriage license and the ceremony will be kept under wraps for at least forty-eight hours. All parties involved have signed NDAs.”

  I’m very familiar with non-disclosure agreements.

  And no kidding on the under-wraps thing. Granger pulls up behind the building that houses the recorder’s office. A clerk waits for us by the back door. Collins rolls down the passenger-side window, takes the clipboard from the woman, and after we show the necessary documents, we’re given a marriage license.

  The piece of paper is on the seat between me and Blaise. I glance at it, never thinking I would go down this road. Marriage isn’t for a selfish bastard like me. Marriage is for guys who are up for making concessions, compromises, and promises they’ll keep rather than break.

  Granger makes his way back on the main drag, and we are off to our next destination. Thirty minutes later, he pulls up to a nondescript gray building tucked in between two tall brick buildings. We get out of the SUV and head for the steel-gray door.

  “I pulled some strings. An old friend of
mine is an ordained minister. He’ll marry you two.”

  “Rings?” I ask.

  Granger pulls a ring from inside the pocket of his slacks and hands me the simple gold band. “You can exchange it for something more to Blaise’s liking after she’s settled.”

  “And you?”

  “What about me?”

  The women have walked ahead of us and have let themselves inside the building.

  “Pissed off some that your girl is marrying a guy who isn’t you?”

  “If marrying you keeps Blaise safe, I am all for it. She means the world to me.”

  “So you want fingerprint access to our place?”

  “Nah. I’m secure in what Blaise and I have.”

  His sinister smile could raise the hair on the back of a man’s neck. Except the darker side of him doesn’t scare me. My own darkness scares the shit out of me.

  “What is that? An open relationship to fuck whomever the hell you want?”

  “A bond that goes beyond fucking. Years ago, she saved my life and I spared hers. You tell me if you can say the same.”

  The door opens, and Collins sticks her head out. “You two coming? We need to get this done pronto. We have a flight to catch.”

  Of course. We are heading to Blaise’s place in Montana to fetch her things. Why the rush? Why move her stuff to my place? Why isn’t she keeping her Montana estate? What the hell is going on in her life that she’s tying the knot with a man she doesn’t know? What the fuck kind of danger is she in?

  Something’s happened, but she and her loyal employees aren’t saying jack shit. Instead, they’re deflecting my questions back to the wedding and the trip to Montana.

  Ignoring the scarred bastard shooting daggers at me with his eyes, I barge past him and haul ass inside the building. The sooner I get this done, the sooner I can get back to my life and Gia. My little sister’s gone missing again, and I’ll need to hunt her ass down.

  Fuck sake, why did George let her sweet talk him into letting her drive herself to her therapy session? I’ve told him time and time again that she’s a flight risk and takes joy in evading the guys I’ve hired to keep an eye on her. Maybe I’m going about this the wrong way and it’s not a guy or guys but a certain woman who can help me with Gia.

  My gaze locks on Blaise. She’s waiting for me in the middle of the empty warehouse. In her hands is a bouquet of white roses. The white contrasts with the blood-red dress she’s wearing.

  I take in all of her, from the thick, tumbling strands of her raven hair, the paleness of her skin, the fullness of her crimson lips, and the elegant column of her neck to the tense lines of her shoulders. I keep on going, taking in how her satin dress clings to what little curves she has. On her hands are white gloves that extend up her arms.

  Two thoughts cross my mind. The white will stain, and will I be slipping the ring on over her gloved finger?

  “Granger, Collins, please take your positions next to the bride and the groom.”

  Granger takes a spot next to me, and Collins, next to Blaise.

  “Dearly beloved, we are here to witness the joining of two hearts and two souls. Maddox Stassi, do you take Blaise Lexington to be your wife until death do you part?”

  “I do.”

  Blaise doesn’t remove her glove. Glancing down to hide my irritation, I slip the gold band over her gloved finger.

  “Blaise Lexington, do you take Maddox Stassi to be your husband until death do you part?”

  “I do.”

  Silence followed by deafening silence. I look up. Blaise is staring at my hand. Granger clears his throat. Collins is shifting from foot to foot. And the minister . . . The poor bastard is giving me a pitying look.

  Jesus, they’re all waiting for me to hold out my hand to her.

  Cranking my head side to side before I go ballistic and shred the contract to pieces, I begrudgingly concede and hold out my hand. Without touching my finger, she slides on the thick gold band before her hand falls to her side again. Precise. Methodical. Lacking any emotion even on her wedding day. Blaise Lexington is indeed an ice queen.

  “By the power vested in me, I now pronounce you husband and wife.”

  There’s no kissing. No touching. My wife tips her chin at me, thanks the minister, and hurries out the door and into the SUV, the sound of her heels clicking on the cement floor echoing in the warehouse.

  Granger thanks the minister, then follows me and Collins out. They’re silent. I’m fuming. Is this how the marriage will play out, with coldness and disdain?

  “Patience is a virtue, and in darkness, there is light. Give Blaise the gift of time and you won’t regret accepting her proposal.”

  “Still speaking for her, eh, Granger?”

  “Just give her time. That’s all I’m asking for for my friend.”

  I study him beneath hooded eyes. A friend, huh? Give her time? To have the X-R 85, I’m willing to let the ice queen stay at my penthouse. What I won’t tolerate is giving in to her every whim. I do not compromise. I do not concede. I won’t make promises past the maximum three months.

  With how cold Blaise is, save for the short burst of humor, she’s not my type.

  Then why can’t I stop staring at the ring on my hand and wondering if with time and patience, she will melt beneath my touch and open to me as she’s never done with any man, including her scarred lover?

  7

  Blaise

  The wedding happened quickly. The flight to Montana didn’t. It had something to do with notifying the private airports of our departure and arrival times and getting their authorization.

  Waiting in the airport’s lobby, Maddox and I manifest in different ways our restlessness in getting this business of mine over with.

  He paces, growling whenever Granger shoots him a scowl or when Collins gives him a once-over. His tie is askew and his hair sticks up on end from him jamming his fingers through the strands. I play with my hair too. Rub my palms. Interlace my fingers. Am reminded that I am married now. The ring slipped over my glove shines bright against the white satin.

  Finally, we get the okay to board.

  On the flight, Maddox and I spoke little to each other. I don’t make small talk well so I let him stew in whatever questions are looping in his mind. The air between us is so awkward, I start to apologize for what happened when we exchanged rings. But our flight lands and I lose my chance of putting us on better footing when Maddox leaves his seat and rushes by me to get to the plane’s door.

  At my Montana estate, Maddox, Granger, and Collins follow me from one master bedroom to the next. There are four total. Each bedroom has a huge walk-in closet that could’ve been a bedroom on its own, they’re that huge.

  Inside the last closet, Maddox sweeps his gaze over the room. He shakes his head. Clenches his jaw. I wait for the other shoe to drop.

  “You’re shitting me right? All these clothes are yours?” He shoves his fingers through his hair.

  “Yes,” I say, above a whisper, seeing me in his eyes. I am a spoiled brat who uses her trauma as an excuse to not do a thing but spend money on fancy clothes, an entourage of beef cakes for bodyguards, and a party house in the middle of nowhere. His words from the party.

  “We can’t take them all, Blaise. Get rid of them.”

  “Now wait a minute, Maddox. These are Blaise’s belongs, and she has a right to bring them with her.”

  “I don’t have the fucking room in my two-bedroom suite, and no way in hell does she need four closets’ worth of clothes and shoes.”

  “These pieces are—”

  I hold up my hand. “It’s okay, Granger.”

  It’s time I let go of the past. After my parents’ deaths in a plane crash when I was thirteen, I kept my mother’s clothes and shoes for sentimental value. She loved playing dress-up for me. It’s how my fascination with clothing and the fit of them on a person came to be.

  “Collins, please have the entire collection donated.”

  “Blai
se, there’s got to be at least a million dollars’ worth here.”

  Collins would know. She has an eye for fashion and a nose for money.

  “My mother would prefer I give her clothes to charity rather than make money off her collection.”

  “These are your mom’s? Fuck. I’m sorry, Blaise. Keep them. I’ll buy a house special for them.”

  “Thank you, but the stipulation of the proposal is clear. I come into the marriage with what I have and leave with what I have.”

  “It’ll be a gift.”

  “Again, thank you, but it’s time I part with my mother’s belongings.”

  First, my parents’ sports car, and now, my mom’s clothes. What’s next? I glance at my gloves. I’m not ready to lose these pieces of armor.

  “We’ll stay and make certain everything is donated to charity.” Collins puts in her Bluetooth earbuds and starts making phone calls.

  “I’ll let the airfield know you and Maddox are ready to depart.”

  “Thank you, Granger. You too, Collins.” I express my gratitude before she makes another phone call to a different charity.

  “You’re giving away everything?”

  “Everything but my personal belongings.”

  “How come?”

  Maddox isn’t aware of my grandfather’s death or the terms of the will, but by tonight, he will. Before I left my grandfather’s place, Arthur informed me he would deliver a statement to the news media later tonight, giving me time to get my affairs in order.

  “My grandfather bought these items and would want the pieces to go to his charities. They can do with them as they wish.”

  My grandfather was a charitable man, and I’ll continue his legacy though he left me vulnerable to the world. I understand why he did it, though. His intentions that I not rely on his money to get me through life comes from the right place—the heart.

  By the time Maddox’s personal driver picks us up at the airport in Oakland, it’s after nine. Back at the building he owns, we take the elevator to his penthouse in silence. I can get used to the quiet and will like the arrangement just fine if he continues to not speak a word to me.