“And this call is about …”
“Business,” he replies.
“Right.” I shake my head, so confounded by these men—nothing they do ever makes sense. “I can understand the wholebrotherly prank angle. But you, as a co-owner, want to screw up his business call because … why?”
“I owe him one. And I’ve been holding on to it for years, waiting for the perfect time to cash in. Patience wins the jackpot.” His face is instantly serious. Apparently, payback is far more important business. “When I noticed him driving you home a few times and then disappearing this morning to pick you up, I knew my time had come.”
My pulse skyrockets. “Why would Maddox giving me a ride home mean anything other than him helping me out because I needed a lift?”
“I have my suspicions.” He studies my face, and it terrifies me because it isn’t clear what he finds there, but he moves on. “Maddox has been distracted and not in a good way. If he were fucking you, he’d be distracted but happy. Because, well, I’m sure you’ve seen the way he looks at you. And you’ve been pissier than normal, so I’m guessing he’s riding you in a manner that isn’t so appealing.”
Maybe we should double back to the way Maddox looks at me.
No. That is irrelevant. And there is a much bigger concern.
“If you don’t know what he has on me, if he even has anything, or what he’s requiring in return, how can you be sure you can undo it?”
He sips his drink and cocks his head. “Tell me what he’s insisting you do, and I’ll tell you honestly whether I can fix it.”
Cash is a good bluffer, but there’s an authenticity to that request that tells me he really doesn’t know what happened that terrible night two and a half years ago. He also doesn’t seem to know what’s going on with Maddox now, but that’s okay. I’d rather him not know if I don’t.
With an internal sigh of relief, I go for the gold. “Can you absolve my employment agreement?”
His answer comes without any hesitation. “No.”
“Okay.” I grind my molars, annoyed that this got my hopes up. This is why making deals and compromising are always on my list. “I don’t know what the point of this is.”
Like siblings often do, he uses his intuition to uncover the story. “He’s not forcing you to be glued to his hip for some reason?”
I make him wait for a full minute while I mull over how to answer that, until eventually settling on Maddox’s version of the truth. “He wants to get to know me. He requested that I allow him to escort me to and from work for a few weeks.”
Cash hums, tapping the side of his glass tumbler. “That’s not the whole story, but I respect that. And you aren’t into it?”
“No,” I respond a bit too quickly, so I tack on an explanation. “I’ve got other possible commitments.”
“A boyfriend?” he presses.
This conversation is getting a tad too close to home, so I deflect. “Ex, who is hoping to make a U-turn. But according to the sorcerer—sorry, musician—and her rendition of ‘We Are Never Ever Getting Back Together,’ it could go either way.”
He tips his glass toward the stage … aggressively. “These motherfuckers.” He huffs and downs his drink. “Ruined a date for me once. It’s weird how they know shit.”
“Yeah.” I curb my laugh at how his demeanor changed. “That’s obviously the only reason you could have blown it with a woman.”
“Exactly,” he agrees. “But if the musical witchcraft is correct, then you’ve got nothing to lose.” When I scowl at him, he raises a hand and adds, “Again, you don’t have to actually do it. Just make him believe you will, and I’ll call him on his shit after this and get him to back off.”
This is one of the most ludicrous ideas I’ve ever entertained. Another deal with another devil. It might be worth it though,even if I could just get rid of Maddox for the engagement party this weekend. In any other circumstance, with anyone else, I’d feel bad. I might not be a people person, but I’m not a cruel person. And this is wrong.
Still, after everything that transpired in the car this morning—Maddox’s flippant disregard for anything I said, his refusal to admit that he stepped over the line, his consistent lying about what this was all really concerning, and the unexpected steamy tension between us—maybe I need to make a drastic move to get him to either let this go or tell me the truth. I have a right to know if someone found out what had happened that night. That has to be what this is about.
I told him he’d eat his words when he insisted that I was stuck with him. Bringing that to fruition is certainly appealing. Of course, everything after that was like a cyclone of lava decimating me. His filthy promises have been flying through my mind all day.
“We both know I’m the taste you crave, Tess. Wrap those pouty lips around my cock, and I won’t need to hold you captive anymore. You’ll be clinging to me, insatiable, desperate for more.”
Based on that, he wouldn’t even be surprised by an offer from me. We were dancing around it, taunting one another, whether that was authentic or not. He didn’t say much about where his desire fell, but he flirted like he was as captivated as I felt at that moment. The way his eyes seared my skin and the touch of his thumb dragging over my lip had me so … turned on—I mean, irate.
What if I do this, only to find out he’s playing me?
“How do you know he won’t tell me to leave?” I ask, nerves rollicking in my stomach.
