“Everything okay over here?” Jesse’s voice slides through the space between us, low and calm, threaded with confidence that makes my pulse skip.
My mother speaks first, her smile sharpening. “Oh yes, just fine. I was introducing Madeline to this fine young man. Elliot’s been working with her father. Such awonderfulman.”
Jesse nods politely, returning her smile with that easy charm that could disarm a firing squad. Unfortunately, a firing squad is nothing next to my mother. He turns his attention to Elliot. “Good to meet you, Elliot. Though I’m starting to think Madeline’s mom is trying to replace me already.”
Jesse’s grin is pure mischief. My mother’s is frozen in place.
Jesse steps closer, extending his hand. “I’m Jesse Winters. Madeline’s boyfriend.”
The word lands with precision, like a small explosion. It’s almost comical, the way three different reactions collide in real time. Elliot’s brows shoot up. My mother freezes, her paintedsmile faltering. And me…my heart drops straight through my heels.
“Boyfriend?” My mother repeats the word like it’s offensive. “As in…romantically involved?”
Jesse nods. “Yes, Mrs. Ashcroft. Madeline and I have been seeing each other for a while now.”
Elliot hesitates for half a beat before shaking Jesse’s hand, his polite smile tightening just enough to show he didn’t see that coming. “You’re a lucky man.”
Jesse’s grin is natural, but there’s a glint behind it that could cut through steel. “Yes, averylucky man. Madeline is incredible in more ways than one.”
My mother blinks, her expression finally recovering as she forces out a brittle laugh. “Well, that’s…news, Madeline.”
“Good news, I hope?” Jesse places his hand on the small of my back as he says it. His tone is light, but it’s impossible to miss the undercurrent.
“I haven’t decided yet,” my mother says. “It is unexpected, though. Dating your boss, Madeline? Seems like a recipe for disaster if you ask me.”
I feel the intense urge to stand up, to run out of this room and never look back, but Jesse doesn’t flinch. His hand moves to my waist—a silent anchor, protective and grounding. “Actually,” he says smoothly, “I’d say we make a pretty solid team. Professionally and otherwise.”
Elliot coughs, clearly wanting to escape. “Well, it was nice meeting you both,” he says, offering me one last polite smile before disappearing into the crowd.
My mother watches him go, her lips pressing into a line before she turns back to Jesse. For a long moment, no one says anything. My mother’s assessing eyes dart between us, cataloguing every detail for later use. Finally, she exhales a short, clipped laugh. “Well, I’ll let you two get back to your evening. I still have so many people who’ve been waiting to talk to me.”
She walks away, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and a pressure in my chest that won’t quite lift. “God, she never quits.”
“Hey.” Jesse’s voice is soft and steady. He studies me for a beat, his brow furrowing in that way that makes him look unfairly good even when he’s serious. “Forget about her.”
“I wish I could,” I say quietly. “She’ll always find another way to make me feel twelve again.”
“Then maybe we change the channel for a bit.”
I blink. “The channel?”
He extends his hand, palm open, eyes glinting with mischief. “Dance with me.”
“What?”
“Come on. You could use a distraction.”
I hesitate, scanning the glittering ballroom, but he’s already stepping closer. “Mads,” he says, low enough that it’s just for me. “Trust me.”
So, I do. I slip my hand into his, and he leads me toward the dance floor. The music softens to something slow and romantic, the kind of song that presses against your ribs and stays there. Jesse pulls me close, one hand warm against my back, the other lacing through my fingers, and everything inside me goes quiet. For once, I don’t overthink. I just move with him. His chest is firm beneath my hand, his cologne subtle but dizzying. The heat of his palm seeps through the thin fabric of my dress as we fall into step easily, and I don’t know if it’s the champagne, the music, or the man in front of me, but my pulse won’t slow.
“You’re quiet,” he murmurs.
“Trying not to step on your toes.”
He chuckles against my temple. “You’re great. A natural talent.”
“Hardly,” I say, glancing up at him. “You just make it easy.”
