The Devil Wears Black(30)
The worst part was that Julian was barking up the wrong tree. I didn’t give a crap about the CEO throne. I mean, I did, but I also knew my place as Dad’s successor was secured. For the first time in my life, I’d done something for an entirely unselfish reason. Whoever said giving was better than receiving was high, because I was definitely not having a merry time doing the charity work.
Still, if Dad found out I’d lied about Madison, he’d be heartbroken, and that was a chance I wasn’t taking.
“Anything?” Madison tapped her lips thoughtfully. “You’d do anything?”
Well, lookee here. I’d finally found something she enjoyed other than getting eaten while sprawled on my granite kitchen island—busting my balls.
I offered her a curt nod.
“And remember, whatever it is you give me, I will only go to one dinner with you,” she warned.
“Crushed,” I drawled sarcastically—again, zero self-control. “Get on with it, Mad.”
She bit her lower lip in concentration, giving it some genuine thought. I imagined she was going to try to inflict as much damage as possible. This was a person who preferred a heating pad to a Tiffany & Co. pair of earrings. A highly unpredictable specimen of a woman. She’d castrate me if she could.
Finally, Madison snapped her fingers in the air. “I know! I’ve been wanting to sleep in for a while now. But ever since you gifted me Daisy—bless her heart—I need to walk her at six in the morning. Any later than that, and she starts scratching the door, crying, and pissing in my shoes. If I go to that dinner thing, you have to walk her every morning for a week. Weekend included.”
“I live on Park Avenue. You live in Greenwich,” I retorted, twisting my head in her direction so she could appreciate how aghast I felt toward her idea.
“And?” She snapped her pocket mirror shut and shoved it back into her purse. We held each other’s gaze on a red light for a moment. I felt my jaw tightening so hard my teeth ground one another into dust. A honking sound from behind us snapped me out of our stare-off.
“And nothing,” I muttered, willing the throbbing vein in my forehead not to pop all over the leather seats. “It’s a deal.”
She laughed with delight, her throaty, sexy voice filling my car and giving me an uncomfortable semi. “Jesus, I can’t believe I dated you.”
I can’t believe you chose this bullshit over a brand-new Park Avenue apartment.
“I don’t know what we were thinking,” I agreed solemnly.
We weren’t dating. You were dating me without my knowledge. If I hadn’t woken up in time, we’d probably be married and pregnant by now.
Now I was thinking about pregnant sex with Madison, and the semi became a full hard-on.
“It was just the sex, wasn’t it? And movies. And eating. No real talking was involved,” she murmured, resting her head back against her seat, her hazel eyes dim.
That sounded about right. We’d talked very little in the months we’d seen each other. Madison had seemed intimidated by me, something I hadn’t bothered rectifying, as it had made our eating-fucking-sleeping arrangement supremely comfortable for me.
“If it makes you feel any better, my no-mingling policy extends to all humans, not just girlfriends,” I offered.
“That does not make me feel any better. I walked around thinking you thought I was stupid,” she accused.
“Not stupid.” I shook my head. “Not overtly brilliant, either, but definitely competent.”
Didn’t they say the truth would set you free? Why did I feel so fucking chained into this uncomfortable moment, then?
“Wow. You are like Mr. Darcy’s evil twin, but sans the charm.”
“So basically an asshole?” I groaned.
“Pretty much.”
I double-parked in front of her entrance. Pediatric Guy was slumped on the stairway. His kneecaps, ears, and Adam’s apple looked like they should be attached to a person at least twice his size. He was lanky in a half-formed-teenager way, his chest caving inward. He had glasses and an intelligent nose I highly suspected women like Madison found attractive. His cheek was propped against his knuckles as he read a wrinkled paperback like some kind of Neanderthal. An actual book with pages and everything. I bet he physically went to the supermarket for his shopping and got his own takeout instead of ordering Uber Eats. This was the kind of heathen she was associating herself with these days.
I bet he wrote her love letters and didn’t even mention her rack or ass. Prick.
She glanced at him, then at me, then at him again. What was his name? I remembered it was as generic as the rest of him. Brian? Justin? He looked like a Conrad. Something that was synonymous with douchebag.
“Ethan’s here,” she announced.
Ethan. I’d been close.
“I need to tell him about that stupid dinner. You still have my email, right? Send me the details.” She hopped outside without sparing me a look. I unloaded her suitcases like I was a goddamn bellboy. To save the remainder of my pride, I dumped them by her building without even glancing at her or her dudebro, not offering to help her take them upstairs. Let Dr. Douche do it himself.
I rounded my car and got back inside, watching her ass in that ridiculous A-line dress as she approached Ethan, flung her arms over his shoulders, and kissed his cheek. Cheek. Something not terrible happened in my chest when I realized that probably meant they hadn’t slept together. Yet.