Not because I’d done anything wrong—but because he cared, and tonight… I couldn’t bear it. After seeing who he was in that room.
I swallowed hard, wine and shame mixing together.
There was no anger in his messages. Just Vince, the version of him I knew. But earlier? The man in the negotiation room hadn’t even blinked at me.
I opened a new message. My nightly debrief. Like a good sub.
My fingers hovered over the screen for a long moment before the words rushed out of me in a flood I couldn’t stop.
Madeline:
I had a business meeting tonight.
I ended up drinking almost a whole bottle of DuPont wine.
Then scones with jam.
And now I’m in bed questioning myself.
Tears stung again. The kind you only let out when no one is watching. Everything blurred.
Madeline:
I’m not sure I know you as well as I thought I did.
Or maybe I made up a version of you.
A fantasy that lives in your penthouse.
Because I don’t see you anywhere else.
My throat tightened, breath catching as the truth spilled out in the smallest, ugliest words.
Madeline:
Maybe I don’t know you at all.
Maybe our dynamic is just that, play. A sex weekend every two weeks,and messages in between to keep the fantasy alive.
My vision blurred again, a tear falling onto the pillow.
But I guess it doesn’t matter. In the end I won’t end up as yours and you won’t be mine. I’ll just be a hidden play toy you had for a while, and I’ll lie to myself saying I knew the real you.
My finger hovered.
Just a second. I nearly hit send. Instead I hit delete.
Sent a short message I had a bad headache instead, and would call him in the morning.
35
Madeline
The following day, I broke down in the chambers. Seven hours in that chamber had stripped me out. Dressed like a sex symbol they’d strategically placed at the end of the table.
I’d walked out hollow.
Vince had been in the hallway. My“boyfriend”had walked right past me. It terrified me. How Vince could ignore me.
