Eleven Months Later - September
Madden shot me a look as I pushed the ground-floor button for the elevator extra hard. He was wrapped up in a short leather jacket that his person, Evan Slater, had gifted him for some stupid anniversary or another, and it was a nice gold that went with Madden’s complexion and brought out lighter brown streaks in his eyes I’d never noticed before tonight. There was a chintzy scarf that went with the jacket, and I wanted to use it to strangle him, especially when he bit his lip and waggled his eyebrows at me with that special Madden flourish, endearing and annoying all wrapped into one. He went so far as to lean his head against my shoulder. I elbowed him off me, then apologized by smoothing down his short dark hair.
“Big plans tonight, boss?”
Glancing at him, I decided to lie. I could tell him the truth, but then there would be questions and jokes and a never-ending barrage of demands to tell me about everything later.
“A few whiskey sours have my name on them.” I smiled at Madden, but he didn’t smile back so much as sort of wince in my direction. “What now?”
He took a big breath and glanced at me as the elevator doors closed. “Far be it from me to comment—”
“You always comment.”
“—but it seems like there have been a lot of drinks for Old Man River these days.”
“You are a child, that’s true, but I’m not exactly old.” The elevator shuddered in a concerning way that had me wanting to reach out for the rail along the side, but I forced myself not to do something so pedantic. My stomach quivered, and Madden tapped my arm.
“Be that as it may, perhaps a night in would be better for you?”
The elevator doors slid open, and I caught my reflection in the shiny metal, or what I could see of myself in it anyway. Far as I could tell, I looked the same as always. My black suit was on point, and I’d shaved in the bathroom down the hall, which I kept a kit in specifically to spruce up for late-afternoon meetings, so I was ready for a night out. Smelled good. Looked good. Everything about me was fucking trending. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly as I stepped into the empty lobby. It was nearly nine; no one was here anymore, not even the security guard. Herbert was out shambling around doing his rounds, or more likely napping somewhere.
“I look fine,” I said as I power walked toward the front door. “Better than.”
Madden kept pace with me. “It’s not your face. Not today, anyway.”
“Excuse me?” I pulled up short right before the door, and he sneaked past me to hold it open. Scowling at him, I stepped out into the chill and shivered. I’d worn my trench coat—it was that fucking cold when I came in early this morning—but I hadn’t taken the time to button it, so it billowed behind me dramatically rather than keeping me warm. Madden laughed as I cinched the belt around myself.
“You’ve been extra bossy lately. And I thought you were dead last Tuesday when you were sleeping at your desk. You smelled like a dumpster special.”
“Good talk,” I said and buttoned up my coat. “I also realized that wasn’t on point, and you haven’t seen me that way since.”
“River, this is a friend thing I’m doing.” Madden kept at my heels like a yappy puppy, skipping along so he was right by my side. “You said to me before that you don’t want to fuck up the firm, and we’re not,” he added in a rush, just as I was winding up to actually yell at him. “You’renot, but you’regoing toif you keep it up.”
Sighing, I stopped and stared hard at him, but unlike any normal human being, he didn’t wilt like lettuce under a heat lamp, but instead simply beamed at me. He reached out and pushed my glasses up my nose. It took every ounce of restraint I possessed not to slap him, and I was not one to give someone reason to sue me for battery.
“Madden. Don’t touch others. This is basic stuff.”
“Yes.” He bobbed his head at me and checked his timepiece—it was too fucking expensive, even for me, to call it a watch.
“Your concerns are noted.”
“Come hang out with me tonight,” he said and grabbed my wrist. I tried to shake him off, but he wasn’t having any of that. “Evan has to work late. Something about a missing kid.” He waved his free hand as if to dismiss whatever Slater was doing with his nighttime hours.
Madden’s touch was warm and friendly, and for a moment I was tempted. He would distract me and feed me, but then eventually Slater would come home and I’d be a third wheel, or even worse, I’d get to watch them be all cute with each other, and honestly, I’d rather gag on a cock than do that. I’d been talking all week with a Dom I’d met online, and I needed to get away from my real life for a few hours. If I wasn’t going to allow myself to drink until I could barely function, I needed something else to relax. I needed some time where someone just as fucked-up as me made me forget who I was.
Monday was a fucking nightmare because the ATF had decided to send Dallas a fucking summons, or rather it came through the court, but same difference. They hadn’t bothered to provide the information on which case they wanted him for—the case where he was supposed to be working to undermine the Kings, when King had fucked him into submission somehow, or one of his past jobs. Madden, West, and I had been working round the clock since to find a way to get Dallas out of going. King had nearly breathed fire in my office, yelling loud enough that the neighbors upstairs had called down to see if I was okay, and threatening death and destruction if I didn’t keep hissweetnesssafe. Needless to say I’d barely had more than ten hours of sleep spread out across the entire week, and thank god, about twenty minutes ago we’d found a way to keep Dallas out of court. And I didn’t want a pat on the back; I wanted a spank on the ass to celebrate.
With the bullshit way King had carried on in my office, as if I had ever let him down before when it counted, I was really relishing going to him tomorrow morning to deliver the good news in person. But tonighthadto happen first.
Shaking off Madden, I ignored the way his face fell. “Thank you for the very lovely pity invite, but I’m fine.”
“River, don’t be that way.” He actually sounded hurt, but I ignored the bite of guilt that came with his accusing gaze.
“No, go home and pine for your person. I assume you have some revoltingly cute underwear to slip into while waiting for him?”
“Zebra stripes,” he said with a solemn nod, and I found myself chuckling, even though I was trying to chase him off.
“Go, Madden.”
