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CHAPTER1
Madison
o o o
How I’ve missed home. The briny sea air curls around me like my favorite cardigan, and I smile as I get out of the cab, breathing it deep into my lungs.
I’m okay now. I’m safe. Italy is oceans away, and the last year can remain safely behind me while everything I know and love sits ahead: my parent’s grand, gray-bricked house in the Hamptons, the rolling green lawn where I spent my younger years playing, the muffled sound of music coming from the backyard.
“Thank you,” I say to my driver as he unloads my luggage from the trunk. It’s shamefully light despite my year spent in Milan, the fashion capital of the country, but I try not to think about that. I’m just glad I made it back.
“Welcome home party, is it?” he grunts as he sets down my suitcase and then takes off his cap to wipe the sweat from his forehead. It’s a warm day, the kind perfect for heading to the beach.
“My parents’ anniversary, actually. I’m surprising them.”
“Nice. Enjoy.” He hovers a moment longer.
I grab my purse when I remember I haven’t paid him yet. Very few notes line my wallet, and all of them end up in his hands. It’s a new, unwelcome feeling to have no money. I’m sure he thinks I’m being stingy with the tip when he gives a weary look at the sparkling five-bedroom behind me.
I pretend not to notice, tucking my wallet away and thanking him a final time. As he gets into his cab, I wrestle with my hand luggage and suitcase, stumbling my way up the garden path and almost twisting my ankle in the process. “Ugh!”
“Need some help with that?”
The low, amused voice startles me. I look up to find the door has opened. Roman Sterling, of all people, stands on the threshold.Double ugh!
“You were not the first face I was hoping to see today. Or even the last.”
Not that he has an unlikable face. His square jaw, deep blue eyes, and inky, perfectly slicked-back hair would make even Milan models jealous, and that, paired with his towering height, broad shoulders, and effortlessly sleek style, is enough to make any girl swoon.
No, it’s the rest of him that’s unlikable, a fact I discovered after the swooning promptly came to an end. Why my brother chose the biggest asshole in NYC to be his best friend is beyond me. Probably helps that Roman is the youngest CEO to run a multi-billion-dollar company, of course, but Brandon met him when Sterling Holdings was nothing more than a start-up company during his college internship, long before Roman was in Forbes Magazine.
In fact, ten years on, it seems as though Brandon might actually like this guy, despite his douchey arrogance and playboy ways. I can’t fathom why. After the year I’ve had, I’ll be staying as far away from men like Roman Sterling as possible.
“As charming as ever, Madison.” His voice drips with sarcasm, a low rumble that starts in his chest and finishes somewhere deep in my stomach. I wish I could go back to five minutes ago when I was blissfully unaware of his presence.
“Are you going to let me into my own house, or are you going to stand there ogling me for the rest of the day?”
He crosses his arms and leans against the doorjamb as though he has all the time in the world. “Well, are you going to ask nicely?”
I grind my teeth impatiently. “I’ve been back in the country for an hour, and you’re already making me want to leave again.”
“I’m beginning to think you don’t like me much.” Eyes dancing with amusement, he pushes off the door frame and steps aside.Hallelujah!
“Beginning to?” As I tug my suitcase over the threshold, the wheels get caught on the welcome mat — and so does the rest of me. I stumble over the tangle of suitcase, feet, and cloth, certain I’m about to topple until two rough hands grab me: one on the small of my back, dangerously low, and the other on my stomach, just beneath my belly button.
Warmth radiates in a place just south of there, the tension springing through me all at once, and I jolt back against Roman’s touch. “I got it.”
He steps away, raising his hands in surrender. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
The pet name makes my gut twist into a tight knot, and not in a good way. Nausea rushes through me as memories of him flood back.
You won’t tell anyone, sweetheart. If you do…
I squeeze my eyes closed and shake Elio’s voice away.
“Don’t call me that,” I snap, sending Roman a glare over my shoulder as I rush to get away. My hands shake, and I can only hope he doesn’t notice.
Roman frowns and stands still in the doorway as he watches me go. For once, he has nothing to say.
