by Shen, L. J.
Katie finished her story. Chase countered it with a story about how Julian and Ronan had once gotten food poisoning in the middle of an event and thrown up directly into an investor’s lap. There was still no message back from him. I looked down to my phone every few minutes, confused.
“Do you have any embarrassing stories, Maddie?” Katie asked.
My head snapped up. I felt like I’d been called out on not being present in the moment. I cleared my throat, trying to recover. “Sure do.” I side-eyed her brother. My blood was boiling with rage, but Katie didn’t know that. She perched her chin on her hand, ignoring the main course they’d just served us—ratatouille—waiting for my delightfully funny input.
“You want an embarrassing story? Okay. So I was dating this guy back in the day . . . he was a real tool,” I added, letting out a metallic laugh. Katie followed along, sending Chase an oh-my-God-so-juicy wink. “I have to say, we weren’t exactly a match made in heaven from the get-go, but I wanted to see where it was going. Plus, I was under the impression we were serious. He gave me a key to his apartment, like, three months in.”
“Maybe it made logistical sense to him,” Chase said nonchalantly, taking a sip of his drink. He glanced at Katie uncertainly, like he and she were privy to something I wasn’t.
I shot him a polite smile. “Sorry, honey, is this your story or mine?”
His jaw worked. His eyes clouded with warning.
Don’t screw it up for me, they said. But I was past doing what was good for him—or for me. I was unhinged with vengeance. With bitterness that simmered in my body and rose up, spilling from my mouth after months of tears.
I turned back to Katie. “So I am dating this guy, and he gives me keys to his apartment. It’s his birthday. I’m thinking, I’m going to surprise him in the most romantic, sexy way . . .”
Katie laughed. “Snap, Chase, you may want to cover your ears for this next part.”
“Don’t worry. He knows this story well.” I speared him with a look, ready for my punchline. “I knew he went drinking with his friends. I waited for him in his bed, wearing nothing but the pair of Louboutin heels he bought for me earlier that month, a red thong, and a lacy black bra—you know, to match the heels—sprawled on his bed next to a white chocolate cake I made for him—”
“That made a mess all over his bed.” Chase cut into my speech, then quickly backpedaled when Katie turned her head to look at him. “I’m guessing. Who puts a cake on a fucking bed?”
“To make a long story short,” I bit out, drawing Katie’s attention back to me again, “it turned out he didn’t need my company after all, because he stumbled into the bedroom with a woman who wasn’t me. Oh, and had a lipstick stain on his dress shirt. How cliché, right?” I smiled bitterly, reaching for Chase’s whiskey—he was the only one who’d ordered a stiff drink—gulping it down in one go, and slamming it on the table. “How’s that for embarrassing?”
By the look on Katie’s face, horror mixed with pity and something else I struggled to read, I could tell that was not the kind of story she’d had in mind. Katie put her hand on mine, trying to catch her breath. I realized, albeit a little too late, that my eyes were glistening. I was holding back tears. But it made no sense at all. I was completely over Chase. I was.
“I’m so sorry this happened to you, Maddie. There is just no excuse.”
“None,” I agreed cuttingly, gulping my breaths, one fat inhale after the other. “None whatsoever.”
“This is . . . heartbreaking,” Katie said quietly. “So my guess is you didn’t stick around beyond that.”
I snorted. “You’re guessing correctly. You know what they say—once a cheater, always a cheater.”
“That’s the stupidest shit I’ve ever heard,” Chase interjected, signaling the waiter to refill his drink with a wave of his hand. “That’s like saying that anyone who is involved in accidental manslaughter is a serial killer.”
“Cheating is not accidental,” I pointed out. “It’s plain selfish.”
“There are two sides to every story,” Chase bit back, color staining his chiseled cheekbones. “Maybe if you bothered talking to the guy—”
“He seemed preoccupied with someone else at the time.” I ripped off a piece of bread and shoved it into my mouth. He still hadn’t answered my text message about the kiss. Katie looked between us, her jawline rigid, her posture surprisingly tight. I saw it in her face. The second she decided to let the subject drop and pretend like we hadn’t stepped into a huge mine of feelings and secrets.
“So . . .” She cleared her throat, looking around us. “Seeing as you’ve now moved on with Chase . . . when are you thinking of getting married? Is there a date?”
“No date. Nope,” I drawled, still holding Chase’s bluest-shade-of-blue gaze. “We’re thinking of taking a long time. You know, for planning and stuff.”
“Like, a year?” Katie asked.
“More like a decade,” I bit out.
I knew I was letting our charade slip and wished I could restrain myself. I genuinely wanted to make friends with Katie. Take her shopping and spend time with her, independently from how my fake engagement with Chase was going to pan out. I was just taken off guard by how Chase had shown up here, screwing this up for me, and then kissed me without permission, which had totally bent me out of shape.
I massaged my temples and closed my eyes, letting out a growl. “I think I’m coming down with something. How about I make it up to you later this week, Katie?”
“Sure.” She looked between us.
When I opened my eyes, I saw Chase was taking care of the bill. I tried to pay my part, slide my credit card his way, but he just put his hand on mine and smiled at me.
“Never, sweetheart.”
“Such a gentleman.”
“You have no idea.”
“That”—I sat back, fighting the urge to throttle him—“is true.”
That’s what happens when you muster some sympathy for the devil, I thought bitterly. He drags you to hell, and you get burned.
Mothers of brides all over America were going to buy fuzzy-looking dresses with angry, sharp lines that fall. My designs were not up to par with my usual clean, romantic style.
I was so furious after the meal with Chase and Katie that I ripped three papers while trying to sketch. I was sitting in front of a blurry shape of the female body—no stitch of clothing on it yet—when my phone pinged with a message.
Chase: I bet you’re still thinking about that kiss.
Maddie: I chugged bleach as soon as I got back to the office. It helped, a little.
Maddie: What the hell did you think you were doing?
Chase: Playing the loving fiancé.
Maddie: We’re done playing. We had an agreement, and I did my part.
Maddie: You ambushed me. You knew I’d be there. Why did you do it?
Chase: I decided our engagement story needed more reinforcement, since you went and hugged Tights Guy publicly.
Chase: Extra long.
Chase: Like couples in the movies.
Maddie: I said he was a friend!
Chase: It still happened.
Chase: (it did happen, didn’t it?)
Maddie: Yeah. I stress-baked extra cookies last week and decided to bring him some.
Chase: What kind of person makes out with her boyfriend at a pediatric clinic?
Maddie: IT. WAS. JUST. A. HUG!
I felt like Ross yelling at Rachel, “WE WERE ON A BREAK.”
Maddie: Wait, why am I defending myself to you?
Chase: Because I’m your fiancé.
Maddie: FAKE FIANCÉ.
Chase: Tell that to the real engagement photo shoot my mother had scheduled for us next week. I’ll email you the details in a bit.
“Gawwwd,” Nina drawled behind me at the top of her voice. “You even type messages loudly. Do you realize you whisper everything you write? You’re so basic.”
I dropped my pencil, before st
orming to the elevators. I slipped into a closing one, kicking my leg inside to pry the doors open, then hit the button leading to the top floor—Black & Co.’s management. I’d never set foot in there before, and the prospect of storming in raising hell was less than appealing. But I couldn’t take it anymore. It was obvious Chase was breaking all the rules in our agreement. I tapped my foot throughout the entire ride, imagining all the ways I was going to kill Chase when I finally got to him. Knife. Gun. Arson. The possibilities were endless, really.
The elevator dinged open. I purged myself out of it, advancing straight to the biggest fishbowl office on instinct.
“Miss!”
“Excuse me!”
“Do you have a pass?”
Stuttering receptionists and flustered secretaries were on my heels, stumbling behind me on their sensible wedges. A sleepy herd of suited men watched from the sidelines of the office, holding stacks of papers and files. I slapped the glass door to Chase’s office open with my palm.
“You!”
Bastard didn’t even look up from the documents he was reading. Just turned a page very slowly, making a show of frowning at whatever he was reading. I took it as an invitation to walk right in. Two receptionists popped up behind my shoulders.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. Black; she just burst in—”
“—didn’t even see her name tag! Security’s on the way.”
“It’s fine.” He cut them off in a way that implied it wasn’t fine. “Leave.”
The two of them shared a confused look, then bowed their heads in unison and scurried out of his office. Chase finally looked up from his documents. He looked shockingly composed for someone who’d just gotten called out in the middle of his office.
“Miss Goldbloom, how may I be of help?”
I slammed the glass door behind me, refusing to take in the thrilling richness of his work environment. The chrome desk, huge Apple screen, floor-to-ceiling window overlooking Manhattan, and gray-and-white furniture.
“I—” I started, but he stopped me, lifting his palm up, then opened a drawer in his desk and retrieved a remote control he used to close the black shades in his office automatically. I blinked. Now we were alone and completely hidden from the world. His colleagues could see nothing, and I could only guess what they were thinking.
Office sex. Lord, I hated him and his games.
“You were saying?” He sat back, amusement flashing in his eyes. That was a good question. What was I saying? I shook my head.
“You’re taking advantage of the goodness of my heart. I told you we were done after that dinner. You have no business kissing me or agreeing to photo shoots with me.”
“I’ll walk Daisy every day.”
“Until when?” I scoffed.
“Until my dad dies,” he replied flatly.
I tried not to let the weight of his sentence sink into me but felt my shoulders slumping nonetheless. “Chase,” I said softly. “We both want him to live as much as he can. It’s not fair on both of us.”
“The hell with what we want—he has a couple months, at best,” he growled, looking away from me. “Less, probably.”
“This is not sustainable.” My voice was so quiet it sounded more like a breath.
“We don’t need to be sustainable. We’re not fucking plastic bags.”
“I would rather wrap one around my head than play house with you,” I muttered, immediately regretting my words. He was hurting. His entire being bled this fact. The way he talked about his dad, had looked at him from across the table over dinner.
Chase rose from his seat, smirking darkly at me. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying.”
“When you told Katie our breakup story, you had tears in your eyes. You’re not over me.” He leaned forward across his desk, only a breath away from putting his lips on mine. “However, contrary to your predictions, you will be under me.”
I felt my lower lip wobbling and crossed my arms over my chest. I wanted to get out of here. I wasn’t even entirely sure what had made me come to his office in the first place. Chase rounded his desk, every inch of him the cool businessman I loved to hate.
“Madison.” My name was a command.
I jutted my chin out defiantly as he leaned against his desk, ankles crossed, hands shoved inside his pockets. “I would like to restart our fake relationship,” he said.
“Too bad it’s not a Windows PC.”
“If it were, I’d reformat it completely and backdate it to seven months ago,” he surprised me by saying. A waft of his scent made its way into my system. Pine and wood and male and richness that couldn’t be bought. He was the sun. Beautiful and blinding and capable of burning you alive. And I was a mere star in his constellation. Small and insignificant, utterly indistinguishable to the naked eye.
“You screwed up long before I caught you with her.”
But even as I said it, I knew it wasn’t the truth. Not entirely, anyway.
I’d been a watered-down version of myself to appease him, forever a martyr.
And he was an egomaniacal, self-centered playboy who’d regarded me carelessly and never bothered to get to know me. But the thing was . . . the old Maddie had let him treat her this way. The person I was now, however, wasn’t having it. Not at all.
My eyes dipped from his gaze to his mouth, determined not to show him what was behind my pupils. I wondered why he couldn’t show me a fraction of the sympathy I showed him and leave me alone. The very existence of him was tearing me apart.
“Madison,” he croaked.
“Chase.”
His fingers fanned across the side of my neck, his gaze holding mine, penetrating the thin wall of determination I’d put between us. I wanted to die. Die because Chase touching my neck felt more sexually maddening than being fully kissed and groped by Ethan.
“He doesn’t have long, and Julian will uncover our charade in less than a week if we stop seeing each other now.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“That we’ll start seeing each other for the time being.”
“No.” My stomach felt hollow, my voice bouncing inside it.
“Why?”
“Because I hate you.”
“Your body told me a different story when I leaned in to kiss you earlier.” He advanced toward me predatorily, his movements sleek and smooth. His hand clawed into the tender flesh of my neck, and my belly clenched deliciously, approving of his touch. He was right. He was everything dark and sinful. Impossible not to yield to.
“My body is a liar.” The words felt heavy on my tongue.
“Your mouth is, and hell if I don’t want to fuck the truth out of it.”
I looked away, watching him in my periphery leaning nearer and nearer. I took three steps back. He ate the distance between us with one stride. I walked backward. He followed me. Finally, my back hit the black blinds. Chase boxed me with his arms above my head, a menacing sneer on his lips.
No more barriers. Just us and that thick, almost tangible tension lingering in the air like sweet smoke.
“If you pretend to hate me . . .” His voice was silk and velvet, his hot breath fanning the side of my neck. “At least do it like you mean it.”
His knee poked between my thighs as his mouth descended in slow motion onto mine. His body molded into my frame. I stood there, eyes open, watching in gut-swirling horror as his mouth met mine. Yet I pulled him closer, my nails sinking into his shoulder blades. His lips were warm and soft. Softer than I remembered. They felt different. Like his soul was touching mine through this brief brush of our lips. It surprised and scared me, how charged it felt to be in his arms, to drink from the well of his scent and warmth and feel.
He tasted like a touch of whiskey and mint gum, exploring, probing, awaiting permission to plunge in with his tongue. I sighed into our kiss, feeling my muscles relaxing without my consent. I was a pool of desire when Chase put his hands on my cheeks, framing me with his strong fin
gers.
“This is a bad idea,” I heard myself whispering, but I still didn’t let go of him.
He groaned, the tip of his tongue touching mine. A current ran through both of us, and we shivered into each other.
“I wish you were someone else.” His lips spoke into mine. “Soulless, like me.”
The door flew open before I swallowed his words with a hungry kiss.
“Ronan is waiting on that growth report from quarter three . . .” Julian stopped on the threshold, a folder in his hands, his eyes on us. Chase’s mouth left mine swiftly, and my gaze dropped to the floor. I was horrified, but I wasn’t sure why. As far as Julian was concerned, we were an engaged couple fooling around in Chase’s office. If anything, getting caught was beneficial, so why did I feel like a fraud?
Julian curled his fingers over the doorknob, cocking his head sideways. His smile wasn’t that of someone who’d caught two lovebirds having a clandestine moment. He looked like he was dissecting a mouse with a scalpel. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”
Chase tucked me under his arm. It was the first time I felt protected by him, and I didn’t know what to make of it.
“Unfortunately, this is not a peep show, hence the drawn blinds. And the fucking door. Were you born on a bus? Knock, God dammit.”
Julian propped his shoulder against the doorframe, grinning fully now. “Are you blushing, brother? Is there anything I should know?”
“Yes. If I ever get a chance to piss in your drink, rest assured, I will do it. No second thoughts.”
“You seem very . . . prickly.” Julian rubbed at his chin, looking between us. “Dare I say, even uncomfortable together.”
“We felt very comfortable yesterday, when we broke your bed together, weren’t we, baby?” Chase dropped an impersonal kiss on my head. I nodded stiffly, more concerned with sticking it to Julian than berating Chase at the moment.
“Don’t worry. I’ll send a replacement this afternoon.” Chase chucked my chin lovingly. He was disgustingly good at playing the dutiful fiancé.