I know it’s him even before I turn around.
The soft skid of his polished black shoes on the tile, the jingle of the door chime, the woody musk of his cologne.
“Ava.”
The way Maddox Dodge says my name makes a shiver crawl up my back, throat going tight.
I was going to marry the man who says my name with the whole of his tongue, like he’s tasting the word as he speaks it.
Timidly, I glance over my shoulder, laying down the pile of bills I’d been collecting. Once we were wed, I wanted them all in one place so that I could have them taken care of easily. The angry red letters made me grimace just to look at them. Each them screamed ‘final request’ or ‘immediate response required.’ I’d naturally just locked them all up in a box under my desk.
Ignorance is bliss.
It’d been a whole eighteen hours since I agreed to marry him. Even though it was just a verbal contract for now, I felt weights on my arms, dragging me down, like I’d signed my entire life, my entire future away.
Would our marriage be fake in all but my last name? Would he have women by the dozen in the spare bedrooms of his enormous home?
The minutes ticked by like little hours, unbearably slow and long. I kept tossing what had happened over and over in my head, twisting the idea around in an attempt to force it to make sense.
It never did.
“Hi, Maddox.” I bumble, shifting my feet uncomfortably and knocking my hips too roughly against the counter.
The sexy man had always made me nervous, but now that our relationship had been rocketed to new heights I just plain didn’t know what to do with myself. I felt as though he were watching everything I did, every move I made, and deciding whether or not he could live with it for the foreseeable future.
What if he hated the way I hummed in the kitchen or tripped over my own two feet or wore my hair in a messy bun?
We needed one another, but it would be easy for him to find another woman to bribe into marriage if he so chose. I’d never find another billionaire who would be the saving grace of my mother’s café. It was Maddox or bust, but I’d never felt so entirely judged in my life – though Maddox’s eyes remained as unreadably blue as ever.
It wasn’t fair, how calm he constantly was. I felt like my heart was going to leap out of my chest and run full gallop down the sidewalk. Maddox yawns, adding insult to my injured ego.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, wincing at my nervously shrill voice.
The billionaire doesn’t seem to notice, bending slightly to inhale the roasted scent of coffee brewed only minutes ago, like I’d known he was going to visit. He’d made himself quite a comfortable presence in Nancy’s lately.
I push the pastel blue mug across the counter to him, his long fingers wrapping greedily around the cup as he lifts it to his lips.
“I just wanted to visit my lovely wife to be.” His eyes glint, smirk that I know is tugging his lips hidden behind the ceramic rim of the mug.
My eyes roll dramatically as the hiss of espresso machine releases like a sigh of indignance.
“You can cut the lines, buster. I already agreed to your wacko scheme.”
He stiffens slightly, brow tugging downward, and for a second my heart plummets to my chest like it’d leapt from a twenty-story building.
Was he already reconsidering?
Was the coffee that bad?
“Wacko scheme?” He huffs, planting the mug so firmly on the counter that tiny russet colored droplets splash over the rim and decorate the counter.
I run a napkin over it, chiding him for his mess though he ignores me.
“You think us coming together to share our lives with one another in eternal affection is a wacko scheme?”
I stare at him, slowly blinking glazed eyes.
“What the hell?” I finally mutter, eyebrow twitching in disbelief, “Did you take a Shakespeare class before coming over or something?”
He shrugs those broad, rugged shoulders and sips at his mug once more.
“Elliot thought I should lay it on a little thick. He said it’d make you swoon.”
“Ladies haven’t been swooning since the eighteenth century, Maddox.” I sigh, rolling my eyes again.
“Nineteenth at least.” He corrects, making the hair on the back of my neck prickle.
Always the last word, eh, Maddox?
He grins at me, sensing my veiled irritation. I hate the way his lopsided grin makes my body flood with warmth.
It isn’t fair, I repeat, for the millionth time at least.
“I’ve got to get going.” He groans, glancing at his watch begrudgingly before tilting his head back to drink more of the bitter liquid.
I don’t say anything, but a pang flickers through my beating heart. I don’t want him to go, I realize. I want him to stay near me. I want to listen to the gruff gravel of his chuckle and the feel the heat of his eyes following after me.
He stands up, walking around the counter towards me while I simply stare at him, a deer caught in bright blue, beautiful headlights.
“There’s just one more thing...” He murmurs, his fingers just barely grazing over the edge of my elbow.
I suck in a breath, unable to move under his touch, unable to think of anything but his flesh against mine and the warmth rolling from his body and the ricochet of my heart and the way the pink of his tongue wets his upper lip before he continues speaking.
Maddox is meant to be admired, like you’d admire the strength and beauty of a powerful stallion. His muscles ripple with trained and practiced ease. I realize abruptly he’s speaking and I’ve been too caught up in his masculine exquisiteness to listen.
“Oh, really?” I pipe up abruptly, making the corners of his lips twitch ever so slightly downwards. The displeasure in the lines of his face is like a punch to the gut.
Whoops.
“Ah. Yes, Ava…” He mutters, clearing his throat, “I don’t think it’s that insane of a request.”
“Oh… really?” I repeat like an aggravating parrot.
Just what in the world was he talking about?
“So, is that an agreement then?” He asks slowly, like he’s not sure I understand English anymore.
“Of course.” I sputter, more willing to agree to whatever idle request he has than to irritate him with the knowledge that I can’t pay attention to him speak for longer than ten seconds.
I was going to have to learn how to concentrate on more than the solid sharpness of his jaw and the dimple on his chin if I was going to be Mrs. Maddox Dodge someday.
Mrs. Maddox Dodge. The name alone was enough to send me pitching sideways like I was on a swiftly traveling boat
Maddox deftly catches my arms, righting me back upwards once more.
“Ava what is going on with you?” He asks, worry tinting his voice, “Are you feeling alright?”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” I mumble hastily, pressing a clammy palm to my forehead.
“I know meeting my parents may make you a bit nervous, but there’s no reason to get so worked up over it.”
I gulp in another breath, keenly aware of his touch on my body, the way his hands cup my arms to keep me upright.
Oh god.
That was what I’d agreed to? A meeting with the parents?
My knees threatened to give out but I draw strength from Maddox’s sturdy hands.
Oh god. Oh god. This could not be happening.
“They’re just people. Ridiculously wealthy, judgmental, and boring – but just people.”
Was that supposed to make me feel better?
Satisfied that I’ll stay on my feet this time, Maddox draws back slowly with a careful eye staying firm on me. My arms are cold where his fingertips once lingered.
“I’ll be back to pick you up at seven. Alright?”
“It’s tonight?” I yelp, clapping a hand over my lips.
“…yes. I already told you that.”
I just nod hastily, not able to trust my high-pitched voice. My body practically vibrated with nervousness, anxiety blooming rough in my stomach like a horrid, thorny plant.
He pauses, inaudible sigh parting his full, beautiful lips. He reaches out a hand, brushing my hair away from my face.
I lean into his touch without thinking, wishing that I could bask in it for just a little while longer. Though his fingers only stroke my forehead briefly, my whole body is glowing warm.
“Don’t be nervous, Ava.” He murmurs, “They’d be fools not to adore you.”
And you? I want to ask, will you adore me, Maddox?
But before I can summon the courage to whisper anything at all, he’s adjusting his tie and smoothing any wrinkles in his shirt. He steps back, heading for the doorway.
“Seven o’clock, Ava.” He repeats, “Be ready to put on a show!”