Madison
My phone buzzed with a text. Reflexively, my heart jumped. Alexander? But It was just Jackson.
Jackson: Thanks again for dinner. Next time, my treat for real.
I smiled and typed back.
Me: Deal. And thanks for being understanding about my work schedule.
Jackson: What are friends for? Besides, I’m just as bad. We can be workaholics together.
The idea was oddly comforting. Maybe that was what I needed. Someone who understood my dedication to work without judging it. Someone who wasn’t paying my mother’s medical bills or making my heart race with a single glance.
Me: Goodnight, Jackson
Jackson: Goodnight, Madison. Don’t stay up all night with spreadsheets.
I laughed out loud, earning a curious glance from the cab driver in the rearview mirror.
The apartment was quiet; Mom must have already gone to bed.
I kicked off my shoes by the door and padded to the kitchen for a glass of water. A note on the counter caught my
attention:
Had a wonderful dinner with Mrs. Miller. Don’t work too hard tonight! Love, Mom
I smiled, appreciating her concern while knowing I’d absolutely ignore it. Setting my glass in the sink, I headed
to my bedroom to change into something comfortable before diving into the Riverside documents.
The blue dress caught my eye as I entered my room, still hanging on my closet door where I’d left it that morning.
I ran my fingers over the silky fabric, imagining Alexander’s reaction when he saw me in it. Would his eyes darken the way they did when he wanted me? Would Katherine be there, watching us with that knowing smile?
“Focus, Madison,” I muttered to myself, turning away from the dress.
I changed into leggings and an oversized sweater, then settled at my desk with my laptop and the Riverside folder. Property dimensions, zoning regulations, and environmental impact assessments awaited my attention.
But as I flipped through the documents, my mind kept drifting to Jackson’s easy laughter, to Alexander’s piercing gaze, to the blue dress waiting for Thursday night.
“Get it together,” I scolded myself, forcing my attention back to the papers.
Tomorrow I’d be spending hours alone with Alexander in his car, visiting the Riverside property. Professional Madison needed to be sharp, focused, and definitely not distracted by thoughts of what might happen at his birthday celebration.
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I made notes on the property specifications, highlighting potential issues and opportunities. The mixed–use designation offered interesting possibilities, and the riverside location was prime real estate.
By eleven, my eyes were burning, and my notes were extensive, I closed the folder and stretched, feeling the satisfying pop of vertebrae realigning after hours of hunching over my desk.
My phone had remained silent all evening, and Alexander had not texted or called, which was normal and expected. We weren’t in a real relationship, and he had no obligation to check in. Our arrangement was over,
after all.
So why did I keep glancing at my phone, hoping to see his name?
I woke to the blare of my alarm at five thirty. The darkness outside my window matched my mood perfectly as I dragged myself out of bed. Yesterday’s dinner with Jackson lingered in my thoughts; it had been normal, uncomplicated, and refreshing.
Unlike today’s upcoming site visit with Alexander.
By six–fifteen, I was dressed in tailored black pants, a crisp white button–up, and sensible flats, professional but suitable for a construction site. I’d tamed my hair into a sleek ponytail and applied minimal makeup.
“You’re up early,” Mom said, appearing in the kitchen doorway wrapped in her robe. “Big day?”
“Site visit with Alexander,” I replied, pouring coffee into my travel mug. “Some property in Riverside.”
“Just the two of you?” Her eyebrows rose suggestively.
I rolled my eyes. “It’s work, Mom. Nothing exciting.”
“If you say so.” She didn’t sound convinced. “Will you be home for dinner?”
“Should be. It’s just a preliminary visit.” I kissed her cheek and headed for the door.
When I stepped outside at precisely 7:28, the black sleek car was already waiting. The driver opened the back door with a polite nod.
Alexander sat inside, dressed in a charcoal suit. His eyes flicked up from his phone, a hint of appreciation in his gaze as he took in my appearance.
“Ms. Harper,” he said. “Good morning.”
“Mr. Knight.” I slid in beside him, careful to maintain a professional distance. “Good morning.”
The car pulled away from the curb, merging into the early morning traffic. Alexander returned his attention to his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.
I pulled out my tablet, reviewing the Riverside property documents I’d studied last night. The silence between us wasn’t uncomfortable exactly, but it hummed with unspoken tension.
“Did you review the environmental impact assessment?” Alexander asked without looking up.
“Yes, Mr. Knight. There are some minor concerns with the soil composition near the waterfront, but nothing
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prohibitive.” I swiped to the relevant document. “The previous industrial use means we’d need additional testing before breaking ground.”
“Good.” He set his phone down and turned to face me. “What else?”
“The zoning allows for mixed–use development, but with height restrictions due to the riverside location. We’d need to maximize the footprint rather than build upward.” I pulled up the property dimensions. “The parking requirements are also more stringent than in Manhattan.”
Alexander nodded, his eyes scanning the documents on my tablet. “Your thoroughness is impressive, Ms. Harper.”
“Thank you, Mr. Knight.” I tried not to let the compliment affect me. “I also noted potential tax incentives for including green spaces and public river access.”
His mouth quirked up at one corner. “Always thinking about the bottom line. I’ve taught you well.”
“I learned from the best,” I replied automatically, then immediately regretted the personal note.
Something flickered in his eyes, amusement? Satisfaction? before he looked away.
The car glided through morning traffic, the silence between us returning. I forced myself to focus on the documents rather than the scent of his cologne or the way his fingers drummed rhythmically on his thigh.
After about forty minutes, the driver turned onto a narrow access road that ran parallel to the river. Through the window, I could see a sprawling industrial complex, partially overgrown with vegetation. Several old brick buildings stood in various states of disrepair, with a few modern structures interspersed among them.
“What do you think?” Alexander asked as the car slowed to a stop.
I surveyed the property, and my mind was already calculating possibilities. “It has potential. Good location, interesting existing structures that could be incorporated rather than demolished. Challenges with the waterfront regulations, but nothing insurmountable.”
“My thoughts exactly.” He sounded pleased. “The owners are meeting us here. They’re eager to sell.”
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.
