Page 40 of Madden

He nods, but his eyes narrow on me.

“You still considering my offer? I’ve been waiting for you to get back to me with your answer. We’ve built an empire, sweetie, and you don’t seem to want any part of it.”

He’s right; I want nothing to do with Granite Industries.

This is his dream, not mine. I don’t know how many times I have to tell him before it finally sinks in.

I sigh. “We’ve gone over this countless times, Dad.”

“We have, Brielle, but you can’t tell me this little writing job is enough for you. Why not have it be something you can do on the side? Like a hobby, then you can have the best of both worlds.”

He said the same thing when he found out about my writing in high school. When one of my short stories got published by a local college, he skipped past the congratulations and telling me how proud he was of me, and focused more on questioning if this is what I wanted to do with my life.

“I’m not having this conversation with you.”

Especially not when I know Madden can hear us. Not when my father has no clue what I truly do, and Madden is clueless about my family name. I hate how I’ve kept so much from them, but if I don’t cut this off now, it could spin out of control and end disastrously.

“Annabelle told me you stopped by Granite in Manhattan?”

Shit.

My family owns four hotels in the tri-state area. He’s tried everything to get me to come join them, even down to offering me a job on the board of directors, but I’ve declined.

“Yeah, I met up with a friend for dinner.”

He chuckles. “That’s not what she made it sound like. She thought it was a date with some rock star drummer. I tried telling her ‘not my baby girl,’ but she insisted it was you.”

My eyes flick across my apartment to see if I can spot Madden upstairs from the reflection in the window. There’s nothing.

Unless he listened, which doesn’t sound like Madden, he’s nowhere to be found.

“He’s just a friend, Dad.”

The lie tastes sour coming off my tongue, and it’s even worse knowing Madden is listening.

“What happened to Mitchell? I thought things were going well for the two of you.”

I shake my head and drop my arms, turning my back to him and stalk across the kitchen to turn on my coffee pot. At this rate, I’ll need something a whole lot stronger, but we’ll start here.

“We broke up months ago. We’ve gone over this. There’s nothing left to tell.”

“Certainly, there’s more to it, though. You two were together for years. I saw his parents at Carbone, and they said he was looking at rings when you two split. Rings, Elle. You can’t tell me you didn’t love him, and he’s perfect for you.”

I open the cabinet door and pull out a coffee mug, softly setting it down on the counter, because the anger and annoyance zipping through me have me wanting to slam it down so hard it could crack the ceramic cup all over the counter.

“He’s not perfect for me. You only think he is because he fits the profile of the man you want me to marry. Someone like you. Hell, you practically arranged our entire courtship. Can’t you see we’re nothing alike?”

I turn around and rest my hip on the edge of the counter. My eyes flit behind him to where Madden stands, bending down to pick up his shirt off the floor and quickly tug it over his head.

He managed to slip down here and get his pants on without either of us overhearing. My father nods, flicking his eyes away from me. I use the opportunity to shoot a warning look at Madden.

What does he do? He has the nerve to grin, like this is the funniest fuckin’ thing in the world to have happened.

He’s probably enjoying the embarrassment all over again. As if our first meeting wasn’t mortifying enough.

“Tell him,” Madden mouths, nodding toward my dad.

“No,” I reply, dropping my face when my father looks up at me.

---