Mag-log inMadisonHe waited until I was settled before pulling away from the curb, the car gliding forward with that expensive smoothness only German engineering could achieve. I set the bags at my feet, staring straight ahead. The interior smelled like leather and that cologne. That same cologne that used to cling to my clothes after nights in his penthouse. "Where to?" he asked. I rattled off my address, keeping my voice flat. Professional. Like he was a stranger giving me a ride, not the man who'd once known every inch of my body. "Nice neighborhood," he observed after a moment. "It suits me." "Better than Manhattan?" "Much better." Silence fell between us, heavy and awkward. I watched the familiar streets pass by, each turn bringing me closer to home and further from this conversation. "Who was he?" Alexander asked suddenly. "The man at the café." My jaw tightened. "I already told you. None of your business." "Christopher, you said. How long have you been dating?" "Why do you ca
MadisonThe question caught me off guard. I blinked, scrambling for an answer that wouldn't give anything away. "That's none of your business." "Simple question. Are you seeing anyone?" "Why do you care?" "I'm curious." "Well, stay curious." I adjusted my grip on the bags. "My personal life isn't your concern anymore. If it ever was." "Just tell me. Yes or no." "Why? So you can what? Judge my choices? Catalog them like one of your acquisitions?" I shook my head. "I don't owe you answers." "I'm not judging. I just want to know if someone's taking care of you." The presumption in that statement made me want to throw my groceries at his perfect face. "I take care of myself. I have for years." "That's not what I meant." "Then what did you mean?" "Are you in a relationship or not? It's a simple question." And suddenly, I was done. Done with his questions, done with his presence, done with the way my traitorous body responded to him despite my brain screaming warnings. "Fine. Y
MadisonI refused to look at him, focusing instead on selecting the perfect tomato like my life depended on it. "Yes," I said finally. "We were." "Then why won't you talk to me?" "Because there's nothing to talk about," I added three tomatoes to my basket. "You got engaged. I quit. End of story." "You never even gave me a chance to explain." I spun to face him. "Explain what? That you were sleeping with me while planning a future with Katherine? That I meant nothing to you? I got the message loud and clear." "It wasn't like that." "No? Then what was it like?" I challenged. "You got what you wanted from me, then moved on to someone more appropriate." "Madison." "Don't." I held up a hand. "Don't say my name like that. Like we're friends. Like you care." "I do care." "No, you don't." I moved past him toward the pasta aisle. "You're just not used to people walking away from you. It bothers you. Your ego can't handle it." He followed. Of course, he followed. "That's not fair."
MadisonAfter breakfast, I got Ethan ready for preschool. The usual routine: teeth brushed, backpack checked, shoes on the right feet. Simple, predictable, normal. "I'll take him," Hazel announced, grabbing her keys. "I need to grab some things from the store anyway." "You sure?" "Positive. Besides, this way you can have some actual quiet time before work." She ruffled Ethan's hair. "Come on, Captain Volcano. Let's get you to school." "Bye, Mommy!" Ethan waved enthusiastically as Hazel herded him toward the door. "Have a good day, baby. Be good for Miss Daisy." "I'm always good!" The house fell quiet after they left, that strange, hollow silence that happens when a four-year-old suddenly disappears. I savored it for exactly thirty seconds before restlessness kicked in. Coffee. I needed more coffee. I poured myself another cup and settled at the kitchen table, scrolling through my phone. I finished the coffee, responded to all urgent emails, and reorganized my spice cabinet.
MadisonHazel's car was still in the driveway when I pulled in. Through the window, I could see her at the kitchen table, laptop open, phone pressed to her ear. She looked exhausted. Inside, the house smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. My mother must have been baking again. "Mommy!" Ethan's shriek preceded him as he launched himself from the living room, crashing into my legs with enough force to make me stumble. "Hey, baby." I caught him, ruffling his hair. "How was school?" "Amazing! We made volcanoes, and mine exploded the biggest. Miss Daisy said it was very impressive. Can we make one at home? Please?" "Maybe this weekend," I promised, steering him back toward the living room. "Did you thank Aunt Hazel for picking you up?" "Yes." He bounced on his toes. "And I showed her my volcano drawing, and she said it looked like a real one except real volcanoes don't have faces." "Your volcano has a face?" "A happy face! Because he's excited to erupt!" Ethan demonstrated with explos
Alexander"Look, man, here's the thing. Are you driving two hours each way to Connecticut every day? That's insane. Total waste of time and resources." Leo's voice carried that particular blend of amusement and exasperation he reserved for my more questionable decisions. "You need a legitimate reason to be there. Something that doesn't scream 'obsessed ex-boss stalking former employee.'" I frowned. "What are you suggesting?" "I've got a real estate development project near Hartford. Mid-sized commercial property needs assessment and consultation before we move forward with the acquisition. Perfect excuse for you to be in Connecticut for, say, a week or two." "You want me to handle a consultation? Leo, I run Knight Industries. I don't do field assessments." "Which is exactly why no one will question it if you decide to personally oversee this one. Call it due diligence. Call it hands-on leadership. Call it whatever the hell you want. I can hand over the entire project to you. Your







