Chapter 15: Bad Deceisions

••~~MADDISON~~••

“Ms. Summers? Are you okay?”

Ausley’s voice yanked me out of my spiral.

“Who was that?” I asked, blinking fast, trying to steady my breath. My chest felt like it was tied up with barbed wire.

“That’s Ms. Shawny Reeves. Mr. Van Halen’s therapist.”

Nope.

That couldn’t be right.

I frowned, confused. “What? She’s in a crop top and a belly ring.”

“They have a… unique relationship. Mr. Van Halen depends on her….”

Excuse me?

And just like that… the entire surprise?

Ruined.

Wait… is this seriously happening?!

Corian straight-up walked out with Miss Belly Ring like I was invisible. No nod. No glance. Not even a damn side-eye.

And Ausley?

All he has to say is, “Mr. Van Halen depends on her,” like he was giving me weather updates with that “deal with it, sweetheart” energy.

My head did a full spin.

Like Exorcist level.

I was glitching.

Straight up buffering.

Depend? On her?

In what freaking universe does Mr. Van Halen… that man… a whole walking thunderstorm, depend on anyone? Let alone some Barbie lookalike with a belly ring and a smirk that looked like it had seen too many reality shows.

And that look she gave me, like she was sizing me up and decided I was expired milk. Just like that.

God, it felt like Chad and Willow all over again.

Except... he’s not your boyfriend, Maddison. You are just his escort.

Yeah, thanks, brutally honest inner voice. Really helpful.

But it still hurt.

Like someone had cracked open my ribs and dumped ice water straight into my chest. My stomach curled. My jaw clenched. I wanted to throw something.

“I need to get out of here,” I said before I even knew I was going to say it.

Ausley blinked. “Ms. Summers…?”

“You heard me. I need to get out. Out of this house. Now.”

“No, Ms. Summers. Mr. Van Halen will not like that,” Ausley said, trying to shut it down quickly.

I folded my arms, shifting my weight like I was planting roots. “Am I a prisoner, Ausley?”

“No,” he huffed.

“Did he not say, ‘Give Ms. Summers whatever she wants. No questions asked’?”

Those were his exact words, like I was a toddler who needed babysitting while he went out on a date with Belly Ring Barbie.

God, I was boiling.

Am I jealous? Am I even allowed to be?

God, why am I even so mad?

It’s not like he belongs to me.

I needed an outlet. I needed noise and lights and music and Sydney.

Yes. Syd. My girl.

Ausley looked uneasy. “He did say that.”

“Good. I want to go out. Meeting Sydney. Right now.”

I grabbed my phone and texted her.

Me: Meet me at Club Bingo. Need to blow off steam.

Sydney: Finally. Better not stand me up!

“Ms. Summers, I strongly advise…..”

“No questions asked, Ausley.” I hit him with a dark smile and started walking to the door.

Never mind that I was still in loose shorts and a tank top with no bra. I was too pissed to care. My nipples were practically waving hello to the world, but I wasn’t stopping to fix it.

He sighed. “As you say, Ms. Summers.”

The drive to Southbridge took over thirty minutes. Ausley drove like a silent robot, all stiff jaw and no small talk. I was in the front seat on the way there, arms crossed, chin in hand, glaring out the window like it had personally wronged me. Every turn of the tires felt like I was shedding pieces of that house.

Honestly, that house felt like another universe. In there, a part of me just logged off and out here real life slapped me in the face. My fears. My doubts. My whole sad little life… all of it came rushing back online.

By the time we pulled up to Club Bingo, those trashy neon lights brought back bad memories. Like that one night Chad left me crying in the bathroom after one of my classic pre-sex meltdowns. And me? Begging like a damn idiot…. “I swear I’ll be better next time.”

God. That memory still burned. Like chewing glass.

I sighed, getting out of the car.

“Aus…” I tried to wave him off, but he was already out too….. on my heels like always.

Of course.

I spotted Sydney already halfway through the long-ass queue, hands on hips in a glittery top that barely covered a damn thing. Her usual chaos.

She spotted me instantly, waving like she’d been waiting a lifetime.

I bee-lined straight for her, slipping in beside her like I’d been there all night. Some bleach-blond girl behind her opened her mouth to protest.

“Pipe down, Skipper. You never cut a line before?” Sydney threw the words over her shoulder. Classic Sydney. My protector reporting for duty.

I snorted. Loudly.

God, I missed her.

"Took you long enough!" she huffed, grabbing me into a hug that nearly choked me. "I was this close to calling the cops on your hot jailer."

"You don’t even know where he lives."

"Details," she shrugged, then pulled back, her eyes sweeping me top to toe.

"You look different."

"I feel different," I said quietly, biting my lip. My skin still smelled faintly like him, like I couldn’t wash him off.

She blinked. "You’re in shorts. And no bra. In public." Sydney fake-fanned herself. “This billionaire must’ve done a full system reboot.”

I looked down, crossing my arms like I could magically summon a bra. “He’s intense, Syd. Like… too intense.”

“Define intense.”

I didn’t. I couldn’t. Because my brain was already buffering with scenes from that mirror room… on loop. His hands. His voice. That look.

“That intense, huh?” she smirked.

I nodded, pretending I wasn’t overheating in the night air.

Then the bouncer unclipped the rope.

Sydney grabbed my wrist. “Let’s go, hottie. This night’s about cheap drinks, bad decisions, and yapping about your intense-ass billionaire.”

And just like that, I was walking into the chaos…. still half dressed, half pissed, and not fully over Corian Van Halen.