Page 70 of Forever Home

Following him into the garage, I catch sight once more of Madison. The laughter escaping her throat as she talks with Sam and Kylie is captivating. Hell, everything about her is, honestly.

It’s like she has a natural glow of happiness that radiates off her, infecting everyone in the vicinity.

“Hey you.” I whisper softly in Madison’s ear as I take a seat next to her. Her eyes meet mine as a smile spreads across her lips.

“Bout time you joined us.”

Kylie stands making her way towards a covered painting within the middle of the room, clear hesitation in her face as she takes deep breaths.

“Kylie, you’re a great artist,” Sam says, grinning. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we’ll love it.”

So, we’re here for a painting? Would have rather stayed in bed with Madison.

“Is it another dick pic?” Madi asks hopefully, her eyebrows raising as she gently shoulders Sam, whose eyes are wide. “You know which one I’m talking about, right?”

What thefuck?

What fucking painting is Madi talking about? And why is she excited over another man’s dick? The jealousy that slowly bubbles within the pit of my stomach isn’t new. I’d felt the same way when I saw her leave with that one guy on a date from her bakery.

However, Sam doesn’t make me feel any better when she nods with laughter. “The guy is ripped and lying naked in bed except for the sheet partially covering his giant—”

“Madison, please!” Kylie exclaimed, looking absolutely mortified. Though I don’t miss the smug look that crosses Dante’s face. Which tells me everything I need to know.

The painting was Dante. That’s fucking nice.

“Whatever,” Madi shrugs, catching me off guard as I furrow my brows. “I tried to get her to sell it, but she won’t budge. And she won’t tell me who the model is either! His face is hidden so I can’t tell, but who cares? I mean, the man has the body of a God, that’s all I need to know.”

For emphasis, Madi clutches her neck in mock ecstasy. The whole conversation finally crosses a line that forces me to still before getting up from my seat. “Excuse me.”

If I didn’t leave, I was bound to explode. The fact that the woman I’ve literally spent the last six weeks with is acting that way—and over a painting that’s actually modeled after Dante—is ridiculous. What… am I not good enough for her?

The moment I step into the hallway, I hear her remark to the others.

“Chefs don’t like to hear someone praise another chef.”

You’re fucking damn right.

And the fact she doesn’t even seem to think something like would bother me makes me wonder if perhaps I’m rushing things. Though, if I am perhaps I need to come across a little clearer for her.

Because there’s no way in hell I’m fucking letting some nobody take her away.

The small realization that filming is about to conclude and I’m going to have to go back to New York, nags at the back of my mind. I’d managed, with Travis’ help, to get a new manager into the restaurant that Eric was bringing down. But the problem was, they couldn’t do everything alone.

And leaving Madison here… isn’t an option.

I have to convince her to come with me.

The plan is to be in the city for the Christmas holidays. With the relaunch of Charcuterie Bar and Grill on New Year's Eve, as well as a few events around the holiday time that require my attention. Like the wedding of the Mayor’s daughter. My company was supplying the food for the reception which was taking place in my main restaurant, Skyline. And the last thing I want is another bad review because I’m not there.

“Jaxson?” Madi’s soft voice pulls me from my thoughts as I turn to see her walking towards where I was standing by the car. “Why did you leave?”

“I didn’t feel like listening to you boast about how much you want another man.”

As much as I wanted to tell her the painting was Dante. Part of me doesn’t think she realizes it, which makes it sting slightly less.

“Are you being serious?” she spits out, her mouth wide as she stares at me with disbelief. “It was just a painting.”

Stepping towards her, my hand comes around her throat as I pull her towards me. “I don’t give a shit if it’s just a painting. The only cock I want you thinking about is mine.”

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