Page 25 of Her Ex's Father
But when I pass the dining room later, Maddie’s there—alone—shoulders hunched, hands folded tight in her lap. The untouched coffee in front of her is already cooling.
Her eyes are rimmed red. She’s staring at the window like if she looks long enough, she’ll see a way out.
I should keep moving. Distance is the smart move. But my shoes slow on the marble, and then I’m at the doorway.
She hears me before she looks up, wiping quickly at her cheek. “I’m fine.”
“You’re not,” I say, stepping inside.
Maddie gives a brittle little laugh. “Thanks for confirming.”
I take the chair opposite her. “I had this set up for you. Thought you’d eat.”
“I wasn’t hungry. It’s impressive, though. You have good taste.”
Her voice is soft but sharp, like she’s afraid of losing the last threads holding her together. Likeshe’sputting her armor for the day on. And under that is something worse—resignation.
I know that feeling too well.
“Maddie.” I lean forward, forearms on the table. “You’re not alone here.”
She shakes her head, eyes down on her lap, and picks at a slice of smoked salmon. “Feels like it. My family doesn’t care. Your son doesn’t care. And you?—”
She stops herself.
“And me,” I finish. “You think I’m just the man who took advantage of the situation.”
She meets my eyes for the first time this morning. There’s no accusation there now, just a quiet kind of hurt.
I exhale through my nose. “I’m having all your things moved to my home in southern Aspen. It’s on the edge of the North Star Nature Preserve. Stella can visit whenever she wants.”
That startles her. “Why?”
“Because you deserve to live somewhere that doesn’t feel like a prison,” I say. “And because you’re not your father’s property. Or mine. Not really.”
She huffs out a laugh, wet around the edges. “That’s rich, considering?—”
“I know,” I cut in. “I know what last night was.”
We both fall silent, the memory of it hanging between us like smoke. The night before I’d spilled inside her, too stimulated, too focused, by the way her body shook against mine. Later I’d carried her into the walk-in shower and Maddie promised in a steamy, sleepy haze that she was on birth control.
I should tell her it was a mistake. I should mean it when I do.
Instead, I hear myself say, “You’re more than the Clarke name on a contract. Find worth outside of them. Outside me. Use this time to figure out what you want for yourself.”
Her gaze lingers on mine, something unspoken passing between us. Then she nods.
“I’ll make Derrick pay for walking out on you,” I add, and my voice is steel.
Her mouth tips in the faintest smile. “Good.” Then she asks, quietly: “Can I go get my things myself?”
With her eyes on the table, I can tell she doesn’t think I’ll agree. I’m tempted not to, not because I want control over her, but because I want to get her as far away from Rupert and Gwen as possible. Those two ungrateful idiots.
“Yes. We’ll discuss it later, and make plans.”
Maddie looks up in surprise, but before she can say anything the door opens.
A server reappears, we both reach for plates, and just like that, breakfast begins. I expect her to pick at her food in silence, but she surprises me—between bites of melon and croissant, she asks about the new resort in Switzerland.
