Alexander
“If you were in my situation,” I said, swirling the amber liquid in my glass, “who would you choose? I’m asking generally.”
“That’s a tricky decision, man.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“Because it’s not a simple question.” He took a sip of his bourbon. “Look, initially, I never liked Katherine. Her behavior, her attitude, the way she treated people like chess pieces. But after she left you the first time and went to London, she changed. Got better. More genuine. When she came back, I actually liked her.” He paused. “Not in a personal way, you understand. But I respected her business mind. She’s brilliant at what she does.”
I waited, knowing there was more.
“But Madison?” Anthony’s expression softened. “I liked her from the beginning. Still do. She’s different. Simple in the best way. No games, no manipulation, just genuine kindness and competence wrapped in a package that didn’t need designer labels to be impressive.” 2
I set down my whiskey, studying him across the table. “You’re married. How can you talk about liking Katherine from a business perspective and then say you liked Madison? I recorded this entire conversation, by the way. Maybe I should share it with Lyla.”
Anthony’s face went pale. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?”
“Don’t send that audio to my wife.” He leaned forward, genuine panic flickering across his features. “She’s already not talking to me perfectly for the last few days. Something about me forgetting our anniversary dinner because I got caught up at the hospital. If you send her that clip without context, she’ll think I’m attracted to your ex–assistant and divorce me.” 1
“You said you liked her.”
“As a person! As a human being with admirable qualities!” Anthony’s voice rose slightly. “There’s a difference between appreciating someone’s character and wanting to sleep with them. Lyla knows I think lots of people are great without wanting to jump their bones.”
I pulled out my phone and opened the recording app.
“Alex. Alexander. Please.” Anthony reached across the table. “Don’t do this to me.”
“Relax.” I pocketed the phone. “I was kidding.”
11
“Kidding?” Anthony slumped back. “Jesus Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack.”
“You’re a doctor. You would have survived.”
“Barely.” He grabbed his bourbon, draining half of it. “That was cruel, even for you.”
“Consider it payback for all your unsolicited relationship advice.” I signaled the waitress for another whiskey.”
1/4
Chapter 400
+25 Bonus
But your point about Madison is noted. I’ll think about what you said. Figure out what I actually want.” (1
“When? Because you don’t have unlimited time here.” Anthony’s expression turned serious again. “Madison’s moved on. Built a life. The longer you wait, the harder it’ll be to get honest answers.”
“I know.”
“Do you?” He leaned forward. “You look like someone still stuck in the past. Meanwhile, Madison’s in the present. With a kid. Possibly with Christopher. Definitely without you.” (1)
The words landed harder than they should have.
“I’ll decide soon,” I said finally. 1
“Define soon.”
“Within the week.” (1
“A week?” Anthony raised his eyebrows. “That’s actually reasonable. I was expecting you to say within the month or some other bullshit timeline that lets you avoid making a real decision.”
“I don’t avoid decisions.”
“You’ve been engaged without setting a date. That’s the definition of avoiding decisions.”
I couldn’t argue with that.
The waitress brought my whiskey. I took a long drink, welcoming the burn.
I stepped out of the shower, water still dripping down my neck as I reached for the towel. The bathroom mirror was fogged up, which suited me fine. Didn’t need to see my own face right now, didn’t need that reminder of how thoroughly I’d fucked everything up.
The hotel room was quiet. Too quiet. Just the hum of the air conditioning and my own breathing.
I dried off methodically, rubbing the towel through my hair until it stood up in every direction. My phone sat on the nightstand, screen dark. No messages. No calls. Nothing from Madison.
Not that I expected anything.
I pulled on my pants, then reached for a fresh shirt. The fabric was crisp, expensive, perfectly pressed by the hotel’s laundry service. Everything in my life was expensive and perfect and utterly meaningless.
My phone buzzed.
I grabbed it immediately, heart jumping.
Madison’s name flashed on the screen.
For a second, I just stared at it. Then my thumb moved before my brain could catch up.
I accepted the call, bringing the phone to my ear. “Hello.”
A
+25 Bonus
“Alexander.” Madison’s voice came through clear and controlled.
“Madison. Good morning.” I glanced at my watch. Eight thirty–seven. “How are you?”
“Fine. Listen, I wanted to talk to you.”
My pulse jumped. “About?”
A pause. Long enough that I heard her exhale. “About what we discussed. About… everything.”
I moved to the window, watching the Connecticut morning unfold beneath me. “I’m listening.”
“Not over the phone.” Her voice softened slightly. “Can we meet?”
I stared out the hotel window at Connecticut’s peaceful morning, Madison’s voice still echoing in my head. The same voice that used to update me on quarterly reports now asking for a meeting like we were strangers.
We were strangers. Five years did that.
“Let’s go for breakfast or lunch,” I said. “We can talk then. Somewhere public, wherever you’re comfortable.”
A pause. Long enough I heard her breathing change.
“Alright. Lunch is fine.”
“Where?”
“There’s a bistro on Main Street. Le Jardin. Noon work for you?”
“Perfect. I’ll be there.”
“Okay.”
The line went dead.
I stood in front of the mirror, adjusting my shirt collar for the third time. Ridiculous. I’d closed billion–dollar deals without breaking a sweat, but lunch with Madison had me second–guessing my wardrobe choices.
The Aston Martin purred to life as I slid behind the wheel. Le Jardin wasn’t far, just a fifteen–minute drive through Connecticut’s tree–lined streets. The GPS guided me past Madison’s café, and I forced myself not to look.
D
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Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
