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23
MADDIE
A hot flashrolls over me and settles in my chest at the sight of my mother in front of me.
“Mom?” My eyebrows slam low over my eyes as my vision blurs around the edges.
I blink and I’m three steps closer to her with an arm like steel around my stomach. He hauls me back into his hard chest, vetiver and something woodsy assaulting my nose.
Dante.
“Madison.” She doesn't greet me with any sort of warmth or joy.
No, what she greets me with is much, much worse. Her eyes nearly bulge, and it’d be a comical sight against her curated perfection if I wasn’t so confused. Her jack slackens and her hands fall to her sides with a smack as she stares at me in horror.
My muscles coil, preparing to—I don’t know what, but my body sure thinks something is about to go down. “Mom, what are you doing here?”
A man next to my mom clears his throat as he steps forward. His dark hair is slicked back, a smile on his face. One hand in his pocket, the other one smoothing the lapel of his black suit jacket. A gold ring adorns his pinky finger, gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights.
My lip curls up at the sight of my mother with this man. “Some girls’ trip, huh? And I’m surprised you ditched Alejandro for someone so much older.”
I hear the judgement, the sneer in my voice, but I can’t stop it. I’ve reached my limit for the day—for the month.
She steps forward and wipes her hand on her slinky emerald green cocktail dress. The gold bracelets on her wrists tinkle softly with her jerky movement. They match the gem-studded straps of her dress, and the whole thing screams wealthy.
That’s not new for my mother. But the pallid complexion and small shake in her hand are new additions to her emotional manipulation arsenal. It’s enough to snap me out of the confusion clouding my thoughts.
I still don’t get the full picture of what’s going on, but I’m ready to get answers from her. I take in the people around her. There’s only one other woman who’s dressed as elaborately as she is. The rest are men in black suits, including the guy next to her with the pinkie ring, and four dudes.
“Tell me what's going on.” My voice is calm, too calm. The kind you use with a frightened child or a scared animal. It’s a new dynamic for the two of us, and the unfamiliarity makes my skin crawl a little. I’m tired of surprises.
She licks her lips. “I can explain.”
“Then do it.” My words are sharp, darting across the space that feels too small and too big.
My adrenaline spikes, and the nausea is swift to follow. I’m nearly tapped out, and soon, my hands are going to start tingling and trembling.
The arm around my waist tightens a second before the air shifts. My gaze darts around the people in front of me, clocking the small movements by each of them. Violence shimmers on the horizon, and I brace.
“That's enough now, Sloane. I think it's time I finally met her. Don't you think?” His voice sounds like how I imagine honeyed sardines smell—a touch of sweet on the outside in a poor attempt to cover the foul smell underneath.
Her hands fist as she props them on her hips. “No, Zo. We said we’d wait.”
My gaze flies between my mom and the man next to her—Zo, apparently. My mother’s an affectionate person toward the men she dates, she always has been. She forms surface-level attachments quickly, but even despite her proclivity, they’re too familiar with one another. It’s in the way she stands with her body tilted toward him, the way he already knew about me.
I pull the inside of my cheek between my teeth. Shit. Has she been secretly dating him for a long time? And what about all the men she’s paraded these last few months? She’s never settled down, not since my dad was alive. And even then, she didn’t love the whole married with kids life, so I’m having trouble understanding why she’d secretly date some guy for a long period of time.
“How long have you been dating?” I look at my mother for an answer.
Her new boyfriend, Zo, strides toward us, and Dante stiffens behind me. My nerves are screaming, something doesn’t feel right. He’s too close—they’re all too close. It feels like the walls are closing in on me, crowding me. I press into Dante behind me as I feel the telltale tingle in my fingers. I twist them in my skirt along my thighs.
He tsks, glaring at my mom before he shifts his gaze to me. “We aren’t dating, Madison. We’re something much more than that. Marriage—”
“What did you say?” I snap, interrupting him.
Both his black brows rise and he pauses. “Oh, didn’t your mother tell you? We’re married.”
“Fuck,” Matteo swears.
