Her mother’s smile tightens. “Oh, don’t be dramatic.”
That’s when I step in. “Mrs. Ashcroft,” I say evenly, my tone respectful but firm. “It’s very nice to meet you. Madeline and I should probably grab a drink before we need to take our seats. Excuse us.”
Her brows lift, and I get the sense she’s thrown for just a beat, but I don’t wait for permission. I rest a hand against the small of Madeline’s back and guide her through the crowd.
She doesn’t resist, doesn’t speak until we’ve reached the edge of the ballroom near the bar, where the noise swallows us whole.
“Sorry,” she says quietly, staring down at her clutch. “That was?—”
“Uncalled for,” I finish. “You don’t have to apologize for them.”
Her laugh is humorless. “It’s automatic at this point.”
I glance at her, noticing the way her shoulders curve inward, the way she blinks fast, like she’s fighting off whateversting her mother left behind. I want to fix it—every bit of it. Then she looks up at me and I see a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Thanks for…that. For stepping in.”
I shrug. “You don’t have to thank me. They don’t get to talk to you like that.” I flag down the bartender. “Two glasses of champagne,” I say, then turn to her. “Or do you prefer something else?”
She shakes her head. “Champagne’s perfect.”
When the glasses hit the bar, I hand her one and raise mine. “You look stunning tonight, Mads,” I tell her, meaning every damn word. “I know I should have told you sooner, but I was a little speechless when you walked out of the bathroom. But I mean it. You are the most beautiful woman in the room.”
Her eyes meet mine. “I think you’re just saying that because you’re taking pity on me,” she says, a small smile tipping her lips.
I take a slow sip of my bubbly. “I’m saying it because it’s true. It’s an honor to be here in this room with you. You enchant me, Madeline Ashcroft.”
“You know, you clean up pretty well yourself, Jesse Winters.”
I’m about to accept the compliment, but she surprises me by saying more. “Actually…that’s an understatement. You look—” she pauses, cheeks now flushed. “Ridiculously handsome. The kind of handsome that makes it hard to think straight.”
For a minute, I’m struck speechless. I let out a slow breath like I’m trying not to smile too hard. “Careful,” I murmur, grinning at her. “You’re going to make me think you actually like me.”
Madeline laughs, the sound lingering around the edges of my chest in a way it shouldn’t. “Maybe I do.”
It’s playful—light—but something between us changes when she says it. The background noise of the ballroom fades to a barely perceptible hum, and all I can hear is the quickrhythm of her breath and the clink of her glass against the bar top.
“Yeah?” I lean a little closer, unable to help myself. “Are you saying that to be polite, or should I start planning our wedding?”
She smirks. “You strike me as the kind of man who’s already planned it.”
“Only if you’re free in June,” I shoot back, and she laughs again, shaking her head.
That laugh.God. I love it more than I should.
For weeks she’s been driving me insane with her notes and her rules and her impossible, uptight habits. But this weekend she’s different. Softer, looser. The fire’s still in her, but it doesn’t blaze quite as hot. And now, having seen the family and world that she comes from, I’m starting to understand why she is the way that she is. All those color-coded notes, the tight control she keeps over every single detail of her life— it’s not just habit, it’s armor. After meeting her parents and witnessing her mother pick her apart like she’s a project that needs improving, it makes sense. Madeline’s cool, polished exterior isn’t arrogance, it’s self defense. She has spent her whole life trying to be flawless because that was the only way to survive in a world where perfection was the price of approval.
The realization makes Madeline even more magnetic because beneath all that restraint is a woman who just wants to be seen. And I see her. Even if I shouldn’t.
Ford would lose it if he saw us right now. The way she’s looking at me, her eyes bright and unguarded. The way I’m looking at her like I’m three seconds away from kissing her. And it’s not just because she works for Cove, it’s because he knows me too well. He’d take one look at me and know this isn’t casual.
I take a slow sip of my drink, my eyes still on her. “Youknow, Mads, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were flirting with me.”
“If I didn’t know any better,” she says, tilting her head, eyes flicking down to my mouth and back up again, “I’d say you love it.”
“Guilty.” I grin, the picture of ease and confidence, but my pulse is a steady drumbeat under my skin.
The tension between us shifts—small, but seismic. The kind of shift you feel more than you see. And that’s the moment I know I’m screwed.
EIGHTEEN
