Chapter 7

Sawyer opened his eyes, still feeling a little dazed. He rubbed his throbbing head and took a few strained deep breaths, smelling a familiar scent.

He froze, feeling oddly like he'd blacked out after having too much to drink. Fragmented images flickered through his mind.

His expression turned hideous, as if he couldn't tell whether those scenes were some kind of hallucination or if they had actually happened.

He instinctively turned his head to look for Madeline. He didn't relax when he didn't see her around. Instead, he glowered and got out of bed.

He checked the living room, dining room, and kitchen. There was no trace of her anywhere. Everything was neat and spotless. It was as if no one had been there.

Had he been delirious from the fever and imagined everything? She hadn't come back?

Sawyer scowled, his morning temper kicking in late. He kicked over a stool and stormed toward the bedroom. As he passed the entryway, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye. He whirled around to look at it.

It was a silver-gray suitcase.

Sawyer stared at it, then slowly looked toward the guest room. He walked over without realizing how quick his steps were. As he placed his hand on the doorknob, he instinctively held his breath and pushed the door open gently.

However, the image he'd braced for—a plump young woman lying in bed—didn't appear. The bed was perfectly made and clearly untouched.

"Damn it!"

He shoved the door open, refusing to believe his eyes. He rushed into the guest bathroom, not bothering to knock this time. He slammed the door open, and as he had expected, it was empty.

Sawyer's expression was downright frightening now. Madeline's suitcase was around, which meant that she really was back from her work trip. He distinctly remembered telling her to stay by his side last night, so what did she mean by vanishing first thing in the morning?

He gritted his teeth and sneered. "Fantastic. One business trip and she grows a pair. She's playing me with polite defiance now!"

The front door clicked shut. He spun around and strode out of the room, only to run into Madeline slipping on a pair of lounge slippers.

For once, she wasn't in her uniform. She wore a dark emerald strapless maxi dress with a matching sheer long cardigan. The airy fabric shifted as she moved, and the deep green made her skin glow. It pulled a person's gaze and trapped it there.

"What the hell are you wearing? How could you strut around outside dressed like that?" Sawyer snapped.

Madeline froze with the food in her hand. She glanced down at her perfectly normal outfit, not noticing anything wrong. Sawyer looked furious, though.

She wanted to say that if he didn't like her dressed like this, she wouldn't do it again. Then, she realized that doing so would make him misunderstand, which meant that it was the wrong answer. She had to make it clear at all times that she had absolutely no interest in him.

Madeline said coolly, "Mr. Holt, I think this is appropriate. Besides, this is outside of my working hours. Wearing my own clothes shouldn't be a problem, right?"

Her counterattack made Sawyer catch his breath. She was right—what she wore was none of his business. Even if she went out stark naked to embarrass herself, it had nothing to do with him.

He exhaled a ragged breath, his expression settling back into its usual cold, critical mask. "It's fine if you want to wear casual clothes when you're off the clock, but don't wear something this ugly in front of me. It's bad for my eyes."

Madeline nodded. "I understand. It won't happen again."

She walked past him into the kitchen, and her fragrance drifted away with her. Sawyer immediately followed.

Standing in the kitchen doorway, he coolly challenged, "Where did you go? I told you to stay with me. How could you abandon your post? Do you even have any respect for me as your boss?"

She lifted the food in her hand and gave it a little shake. "I went out to get breakfast for you."

His eyes slid over her striking dress. He couldn't help but ask, "Where else did you go? How long were you out?"

Madeline didn't hide the truth. "I went to the neighborhood bathhouse to shower. Then, I bought breakfast on the way back. It took about two hours, I think."

Sawyer frowned, and his voice turned sharp. "I have three bathrooms here. That's not enough for you to shower? Why go to a bathhouse first thing in the morning?"

Madeline's heart skipped a beat as she worried he might want to settle the score. She forced herself to stay calm as she explained, "You don't like women touching your things. I keep the rules in mind at all times."

He eyed her coldly and sneered. "I forgot what a stickler for rules you are. So, how did you sleep last night? Don't tell me you slept on the floor."

She pursed her lips. "I crashed on your dining table. Don't worry, Mr. Holt. I'll wipe it down in a moment."

Did he care if she cleaned it? There was a guest room, so why hadn't she used it? Sawyer didn't know what was wrong with her. Madeline acted like she knew her place, but wasn't she actually indirectly saying that he was a terrible boss?

Sawyer wanted to rip into her, but he stopped himself. There was no need to make it seem as if he cared whether a spy slept well. If she was uncomfortable, that was her problem. It was none of his damn business.

He snorted and turned away, stomping back to the bedroom.

Madeline was unfazed by his mood swings and bad temper. After half a year of this, she was mostly immune to his antics. She powered through the rest of his capriciousness with her surging, stubborn love for him.

Filters were terrifying—they beautified even the ugliest things. It didn't help that in her heart, Sawyer was the symbol of beauty and salvation.

Madeline laid the breakfast out. When she was done, Sawyer had dressed and emerged from the bedroom. As he adjusted his cuffs, he glanced at her. Then, he couldn't look away.

The slight dip of her posture revealed a teasing hint of cleavage, and his expression instantly darkened. Still, he held it in and said nothing. When he sat and found that breakfast was once again just for him, he tightened his grip on the cutlery and finally exploded.

"Have you finally grown a conscience? Have you realized that your rolls of fat are an eyesore and that they hurt my eyes?" he growled.

As smart as Madeline was, she still didn't catch his meaning. "Mr. Holt, please be straight with me."

Sawyer sneered. "Are you going on a diet?"

She shook her head. This body was her safe haven, allowing her to stay by his side. She had built it one bite at a time. Sawyer hated women, never hired female secretaries, and would never let a beautiful woman stay by his side as his secretary. Madeline would never have gotten close to him without pulling a trick or two.

She only stood the slightest chance of fulfilling her wish to be near him if she weren't pretty and didn't have an outstanding figure.

Her best friend had said she'd lost her mind over a man. After all, how could Madeline throw away a good figure when men were all lustful?

But in Madeline's mind, she was striving toward her goal. She was doing this for herself, not for anyone else. She was persistent in getting whatever she wanted, and she would do whatever it took, as long as the result was what she wanted.

Getting close to Sawyer was what she had dreamed of. She wanted it, so she would have it.

Since the women who had clung to him and schemed against him were beauties, she would put on weight to give him a sense of security. She would give herself a better shot at her goal.

Madeline wasn't the type to silently pray for what she wanted. Instead, she would go on the offensive and win it herself.

And so, while she was by Sawyer's side, she wouldn't lose weight. She would use this body to show him that she understood that she was plump and knew her place. She would never covet his otherworldly looks.

As expected, she'd gotten what she wanted. She had become Sawyer's secretary.

Longing pulled her close, but love taught her restraint. She knew the difference, and she could endure it.