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Like a cat, Maddox unrolls the toilet paper into a mound. Part of me wants to take a video of it and post it to social media with a corny tagline like, “Maddox Winter channels his inner feline.”
But when he folds the paper into perfect, delicate roses, I stop and stare—shocked and utterly impressed. I pick my jaw up off the floor when I say, “Those look amazing. How do you know how to do that?”
He hesitates, staring at his handiwork before shifting his gaze to me. His lips quirk. “As a grade-schooler, I majored in origami.”
I study him, wondering if this is the new teasing Maddox, or if he’s serious. He has a whisper of a smile, so I say, “Try again.”
“I have a memory from a prior life when I was a wedding event planner?” He says it as a question.
I bust up, then say, “Come on. You said no cameras, no bullshit.”
He groans. “Fine, but this goes into the vault, okay?”
“Whatever happens in this bathroom stays in this bathroom, and that goes for both of us, capisce?” I say.
He smiles, a glint in his eyes. “Deal.” He turns his full focus on the next set of roses he’s making. “When I was sixteen, I booked the Omni Hotel’s penthouse suite under my dad’s name and threw a rager. My so-called friends trashed the place. I was a bonehead and thought the cleaning staff would take care of it.”
I laugh. “Right.”
“So, as it turns out, they do clean, but they don’t repair damage, which, in my case, was extensive. There were holes in the walls. Wine stains on the ceiling. To this day, I’m not sure how they got there—probably don’t wanna know. Broken lamps and furniture.” He shakes his head. “When the Omni sent my dad a whopping bill for the damages, he told me he’d pay it on one condition: that I worked it off by cleaning rooms at the Omni the rest of the summer. Dad knew the manager and got me the job.”
I smile. “I really like your dad. And I’m liking him more with each passing day.”
“He’s awesome, but when I was sixteen, I didn’t think so.” Maddox groans. “Cleaning hotel rooms is grueling work, not to mention the disgusting things I’d find on a regular basis.”
“I bet.”
“It definitely gave me an appreciation for what service industry employees go through, and you better believe I never leave a hotel room in bad shape now.” He raises a brow. “I gatherthe garbage, pile the towels, take the sheets off the bed. Anything to make it easier for them.”
Is this a chip of vulnerability I’m seeing in Iceman? A tingly warmth rushes through me, and I hate to admit that I’m honored that he’s giving me a glimpse of the part of him he keeps hidden from the world. But all I say is, “Impressive.” I also love imagining Maddox struggling to clean a nasty hotel room.
“At the Omni, we were required to fold the toilet paper and tissues into roses. So I got proficient.”
I nod my head at the roses he’s created. “I see that.”
As I blow dry my dress, Maddox calls his assistant to fetch glue, tape, and a needle and thread. Once we have that, Maddox proceeds to place the roses in various patterns around the holes in my dress. Then, he creates another stream of petals around the hemline that was destroyed by the wet ground. When he’s all done, I stand and go to the full-length mirror where I can’t believe my eyes. “This looks incredible.”
He scrubs his chin as he studies his work of art. “Not bad for a workaround.”
I do a few pivots. “I think I might like this version better than the original. It has a couture flair.”
“Glad you approve.”
I give him the thumbs up, and together, we approach the door to return to the party. This time, Maddox puts his hand on my back, and it feels different from the hand-holding we did just a few hours ago. My body melts closer to him, and it’s more comfortable, intimate. Maybe it’s because I’ve learned something real about him.
In the grand room, Skye takes one look at me and says, “Maddox texted me and told me what happened. You two cleaned up that shitshow. And we still have Dolly to model her dress.”
“I’m so sorry I let Llama out.”
“Don’t be. She’s an escape artist, and all’s well that ends well.” Skye takes her place at the mic as emcees of the event as people walk onto the runway. Some of these women areactuallymodels, which is going to make it hard for me to compete, given that I don’t have their runway swagger.
Growing up, I would’ve been the girl hiding in the corner, never the one strutting on stage because I would’ve been terrified I’d fall.
My nerves skyrocket as I watch one walk after another, and hope to hell I can pull this off. As though Maddox notices my discomfort, he leans into my ear and says, “Don’t be nervous. You’ve got this in the bag. Easy.”
And there he goes again, making me feel like I can take on anything—and at the moment when I need it most. I can’t help but wonder if he is doing it to get something again, like he did that day we filmed the strip scene. Maybe he is. But his tone is genuine, and I get the feeling he truly believes in me. And that makes me believe in myself.
By the time it’s my turn, my nerves have gone so far off the rails that the room spins, just for a beat. I have to stop and refocus. My legs shake, and I teeter the first couple of steps before I get my footing. I keep my chin up and put on my best sultry face as I strut onto the runway with my wildly unique dress. It helps my confidence when loud applause erupts along with several whistles that echo from the back of the room. I can hear Maddox cheering me on as his voice stands out with its low timbre. I love that he’s making a great show supporting me.
