- 10 -
The Sweetest Decisions
-impulse
*•*•*
Madison refused to tear her intense gaze from Drew, attempting to rob an answer from his cheeky mirth. She crossed her arms, waiting. "Well?"
Drew studied her, the setting sun behind him emitting a halo-like glow. Ironic, considering the stunt he'd pulled was anything but angelic.
The corners of his lips tugged downwards, upon realizing that she hadn't found his remark amusing. "I'm sorry, that was a bad joke. Are you mad?"
His eyes dimmed with genuine contrition, returning to its earlier sweetness. While Madison was a little miffed, it was hard to stay angry at someone who resembled a wounded puppy.
"I didn't see anything," Drew confessed. "I didn't think the lace comment would hit close to home . . . but it did, and now I feel stupid. Sorry."
Shooting him a scowl, Madison playfully gave him a gentle thump in the back of the head. A small 'ow' escaped his lips.
"Now we're even. Let's just never speak about it again. Deal?"
Rubbing the back of his head, he gave a humored grin. "Speak about what?"
With the dynamics restored, the walk back was uneventful as Drew engaged her in his usual upbeat chatter. By the time they'd regrouped with James and Edith, the pair were already waiting for them at the main threshold.
Madison looked towards her older chaperone, wondering how he'd fared the past hour without her. James remained charming as ever—nodding along at Edith's pesterings—but the glaze of his eyes revealed how drained he truly was.
Her throat tightened, cursing that she hadn't sped things up with Drew as James had requested.
When everything was over, she'd promise to make it worth James's while for all his efforts. Perhaps put in a good word to her father. Or maybe she'd help him in his own quest for love, if that were possible.
"Ready to go?" Madison asked him, pulling up at his side.
James languidly glanced down at her. "Just about. Our ride's out front."
"Feel free to come back anytime," Edith chortled, lacing her fingers through Madison's. "And please bring James when you do."
Madison wasn't letting the woman within ten feet of him ever again, but she kindly agreed to the first offer. Giving James one last suggestive wink—much to his chagrin—Edith took off.
It was Drew's turn to approach James, and he offered a friendly hand. A subtle twitch graced James's features, but he dutifully returned a stiff shake.
"I knew you," Drew suddenly blurted, earning a raised brow. "Before, I mean. Or at least, I knew of you. We both graduated from Lawton U."
"Did we?" James politely indulged him, though Madison knew all he wanted to do was leave.
"Go, Gray Wolves!" Drew awkwardly threw up a hand gesture, representing their school sign.
James blankly stared.
"Anyways," Drew coughed, "you graduated early, so we didn't have the chance to meet. But everyone knows about you. You're a legend in the economics department."
"I was?" James asked, disinterested. "But I wasn't even there long."
Unable to relate, Madison found herself half-listening. She'd tried college for a time, but just as quickly dropped out. She'd missed her father too much to be away too long, and the only thing her classes taught her was that she wasn't cut out for business.
Or school, period.
Maybe one day she'd go back to pursue something she actually enjoyed.
"Are you kidding me? Professors used your projects as the golden standard, and all the orgs you led talked about the way you ran things. Plus you were on full-ride. Like, how?"
James shrugged. "Good time management?"
Madison scoffed. It wasn't his ability to keep a timetable straight that made him a known success. But it was interesting to hear about this period in his life, as James never talked about it out of indifference.
He worked impressively hard, she'd known that. Her father personally chose James to mentor, and Arthur didn't surround himself with unimpressive people.
"We should go," Madison cut in, sparing him from further conversation. She sent Drew a cheery wave. "Thanks for today! I hope we meet again soon."
Drew returned the chummy motion.
"Let's do that. Nice meeting you, Lacey!"
Madison choked, biting down on her tongue. Searing pain rendered her unable to speak.
He didn't.
". . . Lacey?" James questioned, after an unnervingly still pause.
"Oops." Drew brought a hand to his mouth, digging his grave deeper. "I-I meant M-Madison. Lacey's a friend . . . and they look alike, so . . . oops. Ha-ha."
Even Madison could lie better than that.
Both of them sweat bullets as James wordlessly looked from Drew to Madison, his expression cryptic.
"I see."
An unnaturally bright smile took over, stretching from ear to ear. But James's pearly whites did little to hide the murderous glint in his crinkled eyes.
It was terrifying.
"We'll be going now, thank you."
Still smiling, James put a hand on Madison's shoulder to guide her out.
Drew hesitantly shut the door behind them.
At least he was safe—the same couldn't be said for her.
The walk to the car was eerily silent, but James's grip on her shoulder didn't loosen. It wasn't until they both sat that he finally turned to her, with the same chilling smile from earlier.
Madison gulped—he was absolutely livid.
"Mind telling me what he really meant by 'Lacey'?"
*•*•*
There was nothing that could suppress his relentlessly pulsating headache.
Not even the tranquil quiet, the vibrant view of the city, or the lack of a certain someone, was enough to appease the dull throbs that persisted throughout the agonizingly long day. Somehow he'd managed to mask the pain through false flattery and forced smiles. Barely.
The hardest part was finally over, yet James Knightly still found himself in a soured mood.
The day was predestined to be a nightmare, and he'd braced himself for that. What he hadn't expected was the extent of how wrong things could go.
After dropping off the heiress, the first thing he did when he returned to the safety of his empty penthouse was to wash the overwhelming scent of the Moore family off of him. He took his time scrubbing the places where Edith had unabashedly clung onto him like the fabric of her silly little tracksuit.
The steam from his shower wafted into the air as he headed to the living room, having discarded his finely tailored suit for something much more comfortable. Back then, he would've done anything for the chance to wear the expensive clothes he presently owned—but now, all he ever wanted to do was to change out of it.
The suits were too stifling for his liking.
A towel was looped over his shoulders, and he gently pat dry the drops of water that seeped from the ends of his dark locks. Sinking into the comfort of the couch, he reached for Drew's file that was conveniently placed on the otherwise spotless coffee table.
As soon as he opened the folder, a recognizable million-watt smile greeted him— sage green eyes peering at him with the same irritating glimmer from earlier. James frowned, a familiar knot tightening in the pit of his stomach.
He creased the corner of the page, Drew's photo now obscured behind the thick fold. Better.
Dark eyes scanned the document once more, as if he hadn't already memorized its contents the moment Madison had made her decision.
On paper, he was perfect.
Funny, because nowhere on the report did it mention that the twenty-three year old was a flirty perv, hidden behind an innocent face. James recalled Drew's earlier 'slip of the tongue', and his blood boiled.
The manipulative little shit had done it on purpose. He saw the way Drew hid a mischievous snicker behind the covering of his hand, and the enjoyment in his eyes when he'd gotten under Madison's skin.
A real class act, that one.
Knowing Madison, she'd probably found it hard to see past the boyish charm that the blond exuded.
James easily found him repulsive.
Something was off about him, and the household as a whole. He couldn't put a finger on it, but there'd been a niggling sensation biting at him as soon as he and Madison entered the home.
Edith was another situation entirely, and her strange fixation on her weird art collection.
Upon remembering some of the pieces she'd lavishly shared with him, what oddly stuck out to James was how new and expensive all of the pieces were.
High Rise was their main source of flowing income, along with subsets of properties, but was it really enough to fund the exorbitant amounts of rare art? The Moore family was built from generations of old money, but exactly how much money did they have?
It was probably nothing—him being overly cautious again—but perhaps getting a definite number might be worth looking into.
Lowering the file, James rested his head back, rubbing the exhaustion from his bleary eyes as he sought solace in the comfort of the night.
Except the moment his mind reined free, it was quick to drift to thoughts of spirited brunettes with enticing blue eyes and pink, freckled lips. He leapt up out of his seat.
Nope.
He refused to entertain that further.
The thoughts had plagued him for so long now, a growing source of his frequent headaches. And while repressing these impulses would've normally been child's play—it was only getting worse with each day.
James could barely let his guard down now, to the point where he occasionally found himself acting involuntarily. His characteristic control was at risk of being compromised.
Which was maddening for him.
Needing a distraction, the clock on the wall signified that it was nine o'clock. Perhaps it was time to check in on Arthur.
Knowing Arthur, the older gentleman just finished getting settled in. His flight landed a couple hours ago, and most likely he spent some time getting lost and bumbling through the crowds before finding where he needed to be.
It was clear who Madison inherited her penchant for trouble from.
Sifting through his phone, James searched for the saved number that would put him in contact with the president of the Grand Seasons. He dialed, lifting the cool glass surface to his ear.
Two rings later, a distinguishable voice answered on the other line. "Hello? James, is that you?"
"Hello, Mr. Summers," James pleasantly greeted.
"Perfect timing, I was just about to call you," Arthur said, maintaining his usual jolliness. "It was hard to find the building—this city is huge—but I finally finished putting everything away."
"Is that so?"
The corners of James's lips lifted in amusement. Predictable.
"I tell you, if this is supposed to be the best hotel here, I certainly have a bone to pick. They didn't supply the room with the scented soaps I requested beforehand. What am I going to do with this brick?"
It was difficult to smother a laugh, with Arthur being completely serious about his predicament.
"If the merger goes well, Grand Seasons will give them a run for their money," James light-heartedly assured him, "and they'll never forget the soap again."
"Let's hope so," Arthur bitterly grumbled. His tone lightened as he transitioned topics. "You saw Madison off okay?"
"Yes, sir. Everything's locked away, and no one's getting in."
Before Arthur departed for his trip, he'd bestowed James with the master keys—which Madison was not happy about. As James was leaving, they'd gotten into another heated tiff. She'd claimed that she didn't need him coming in and out as her father's watchdog, then he reminded her that clearly locks weren't her forte.
She shooed him off indignantly.
"And the boy? How did that go?"
James's lips pressed taut. "It went well."
As well as it could go for two people who were expected to fall in love after an awkward bathroom meet-cute. But he'd never tell Arthur that.
"Splendid," Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. "And? What do you think?"
James thought a lot of things, none of them particularly good. He idly stuffed his hands into his pockets, pondering how to answer.
He could easily end it all now with one word. Madison wouldn't ever have to see Drew again, and it'd be another search for a more suitable candidate.
But he remembered the pure exhilaration on her face, the way it lit up when she spoke about fate and life with her 'future husband'. The way she snuck girlish glances at Drew when she thought no one noticed.
An invisible knife plunged deep, and James loathed the visceral reactions that came with the notion of her.
"Honestly, it's too soon to tell. I'd need to look into it more before thinking anything."
He couldn't afford to be biased. That wasn't fair to her.
Madison would never forgive James if he called it off without proof, so he'd give the benefit of the doubt. For now.
"I see," Arthur mused. "What about you?"
James furrowed a brow. "What about me, sir?"
"I know the Moore's have a daughter about your age," Arthur's teasing tone had an underlying smile.
"No."
The word spilled out faster than he intended. James swallowed down the bile that settled in his throat, the thought of being related to Edith was enough to make him wretch.
"Sorry to disappoint," he continued, "but I was informed that she married last year."
"Darn," Arthur clicked his tongue. "I would've liked if you and Madison were both connected through the same family."
Thankful that Arthur couldn't see, James rolled his eyes.
"How prepared are you for tomorrow?" James asked, changing the subject. "You think you'll be able to present the proposal?"
And so they talked a bit more about business, where minutes turned to hours. Eventually, Arthur wanted nothing more than to succumb to the tiredness from travel.
With a polite goodbye, James hung up first. He sucked in a breath.
Leaning against the glass plane that surrounded his sky-rise on every side, the view of the city stretched before him from all angles. In the past, he'd always wanted to live in a place with this exact view. Like he was on top of the world, and everyone was beneath him.
But now it felt too high, without much to see. Just a scattered path of bright little squares. He should've stayed content looking up at the night sky—it looked the same from down below anyway.
So much time chasing ambition, for what? Constricting suits and isolated homes?
The things he'd been willing to do to get here. The people he was willing to step on.
He sighed, feeling another throb from his headache.
James already knew everything was going to go well with the merger. He'd taken great lengths to ensure that. There was no way he would've allowed Arthur to go off on his own if there was any doubt that the deal wasn't already secured.
Whatever Arthur was doing was just a formality.
It was why James purposefully planned the launch of the proposal to align with Madison's twenty-first birthday. The age in which he knew that Arthur would really start pushing his daughter towards marriage.
As much as James cared about Arthur, he couldn't have him around interfering with the marriage process. Arthur spoiled his daughter, but she was also guilty of wanting to cater to his wants.
She'd agree with anyone as long as it made her beloved 'Papa' happy.
Therefore, James needed him gone for the next six weeks. For her sake. She'd be free to choose someone without pressure, or maybe she'd decide that she didn't want anyone. Either way, he'd help see her decision through.
The challenge was making it look like it was Arthur's own choice to have James stay behind to oversee things.
It was a risky plan, on the off chance that Arthur did allow James to tend to the Grand Season's affairs on his own.
But James knew that'd never happen.
For the same reason why Arthur would never accept James as a proper candidate for the hand of his precious daughter, no matter how skilled or promising he'd proven to be.
Arthur didn't fully trust him, and they both knew it.
Smart, considering what James had shown he was capable of doing to reach his end goals.
He'd started with nothing, consumed by greed and the unquenchable desire to climb to the top.
But like the tragic tale of Icarus, he'd flown too close to the sun—landing himself in a glass cage of his own undoing.
His past decisions had cost him everything, and he was definitely still paying for it.
*•*•*
P A R T 1 - c o m p l e t e d