Chapter 30
Rowe
“So you’re Rowe Wadley,” Sylvia Maddox declares after descending the steps of her private jet.
Private. Jet.
Pane’s family owns a jet.
A jet.
A jet.
Did I mention they own a jet?
My family literally owns nothing—not even the place where we live. And he owns a jet.
My stomach falls at the sight of the sleek plane with the Maddox Group logo scrolled on the tail. It was one thing to know that Pane comes from stupid-crazy money. It’s another to witness this wealth in the flesh.
And Sylvia Maddox drips wealth.
She’s wearing all white, even her shoes. Her black hair has an elegant silver streak that starts at her forehead and winds its way behind an ear. It’s very classy.
She’s draped an ivory suit jacket over the shoulders of her blouse, and manages to walk effortlessly down the steps without the jacket slipping even once.
She’s mesmerizing.
I’m glad I had the sense to put on a nice pair of jeans, a blouse, and newish pumps. Otherwise, I would’ve felt underdressed.
Even now, Pane’s wearing nice jeans, and he pressed his shirt. There’s no looking like a slouch for Sylvia Maddox, and I understand exactly why Pane was pissed off the first time we met, when he had to meet Sylvia after the piggycorns ruined his suit.
When she takes my hand, she studies me with sharp green eyes—eyes that match Pane’s and Natalie’s.
Just being in her presence makes me want to shrink into a tiny brittle ball. To shrivel up like one of the souls in Disney’sThe Little Mermaid, becoming a dried-up husk of who I really am.
Pane slides a hand along my back. I jump, I’m so startled by it. My gaze slashes to him. I’m sure Sylvia catches my what-the-hell expression. But Pane’s face remains neutral, as if he’s been touching my back for ages.
His fingers squeeze in a protective yet gentle reminder that he’s here, that he’s not going anywhere.
Yesterday I would’ve run screaming from his touch. But today things are different. Watching him with Natalie crumbled the rest of the icy walls that had encased my heart.
It’s questionable, how I feel about this.
Sylvia’s gaze flicks to the arm Pane has around my back. She opens her mouth to say something, but Natalie jumps out of the truck and runs to her. “Mom!”
She sucks in her cheeks, jaw tightening. “You are in trouble, young lady.”
Though the words are stern, Sylvia does give her daughter a hug. However, her arms are so straight that they remind me of pool noodles. It’s like Sylvia doesn’t know how to offer love.
Good grief, if I’d pulled what brilliant little Natalie did (yes, she’s clearly way too bright for her age), my mother would’ve hugged metight before spanking the heck out of me and grounding me for the rest of my life.
But instead, after hugging Natalie, Sylvia drops her like a hot potato and snaps, “In the plane.”
“But, Mom, they have a boarding school here. It’s only an hour away—”
Sylvia glances at her with disdain. “Your brother will be home soon enough. You won’t be coming here.”
Wow.Talk about being bitch-slapped. Her tone, her words—all of it is rough.
