Page 21 of Her Ex's Father
“Go to bed, Maddie,” I say, my voice lower than I intend.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves. She looks up at me with those steady eyes, and I know she feels the same shift in the air. There’s an awareness now, a recognition that whatever this is, it isn’t just convenience or circumstance.
Finally, she pulls the blanket tighter around herself. “If you’re trying to scare me off, you’ll have to do better than that.”
I straighten, forcing my hands back to my sides. “I’m not trying to scare you. I’m trying to keep us from making a mistake.”
She tilts her head, lips curving just slightly. “You think it would be a mistake?”
I don’t answer, because the truth is… I’m not sure. But this is temporary, and I just have to keep it that way. It doesn’t need to be more complicated than that.
“You really think you can fix this?” she asks, brows furrowed.
I meet her gaze over the rim of the glass. “I don’t intend to let it fall apart.”
Her chin lifts, the barest trace of defiance. “And what if I don’t want it fixed?”
That draws me back toward her, one measured step at a time, until I’m close enough to see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes. “Then you’d better tell me now, Maddie. Before I put any more work into holding it together.”
She doesn’t answer. Not with words. Just sits there, breathing a little faster, eyes locked on mine like she’s daring me to do something about it.
“You should sleep,” I say again, quieter this time.
She leans back, tucking her legs under the blanket, but her gaze stays fixed on me until I turn away.
“Come.”
Is it just me, or does the tension ramp up a notch at my command? Behind me, I hear Maddie’s feet hit the wood floor. She pads after me as I stride across the suite, determined to put as much distance as I can between us. Locked doors, if need be.
She’s yours to do with what you wish.
The problem is, I already know exactly what that is. And it has nothing to do with business.
“You can stay here, in the guest bedroom.”
It’s smaller than my bedroom, but neat, tidy, the comforter something to drown in and the vintage lamp throwing amber light. Madeline doesn’t look around, her eyes locked on me. Of course, she’s had hours to explore by herself, because I left her here.
“Do you have someone looking for Derrick? Do you know where he is?”
I pause with my hand on the doorknob. “It doesn’t matter where he is. I’ll find him before the week is out, and we can discuss what the best path forward is.”
She follows me back into the living room, blanket trailing like a cape, eyes sharp. The nearness of her, the warmth at my back, makes me restless with tension. Annoyed at myself. “So, you’re not even going to tell me?”
I lean against the frame. “It won’t change anything tonight.”
Her laugh is short and bitter. “That’s convenient. Keep me in the dark, let me smile for the cameras, and hope I don’t embarrass you before dessert.”
I study her for a long beat. “Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“That’s what you are doing,” she fires back. “And Derrick—” The name comes out like she’s biting into something rotten. “—is probably halfway to a beach with a drink in his hand, telling his friends how he dodged a bullet.”
Her words cut sharper than I expect. Maybe because I’ve thought the same thing.
“He’s unreliable,” I say, tone flat.
“He’s worthless,” she corrects. “He didn’t even have the decency to tell me he was running away from our wedding, Ben. He just… left. And now I’m married to his father, which—” she throws her hands out “—wasn’t exactly in the brochure.”
The air between us is charged, humming with the same volatile mix I felt in the distillery the evening of the engagement party—anger, adrenaline, and something I shouldn’t want from her.
