The Devil Wears Black

Julian curled his fingers over the doorknob, cocking his head sideways. His smile wasn’t that of someone who’d caught two lovebirds having a clandestine moment. He looked like he was dissecting a mouse with a scalpel. “Please, don’t stop on my account.”

Chase tucked me under his arm. It was the first time I felt protected by him, and I didn’t know what to make of it.

“Unfortunately, this is not a peep show, hence the drawn blinds. And the fucking door. Were you born on a bus? Knock, God dammit.”

Julian propped his shoulder against the doorframe, grinning fully now. “Are you blushing, brother? Is there anything I should know?”

“Yes. If I ever get a chance to piss in your drink, rest assured, I will do it. No second thoughts.”

“You seem very . . . prickly.” Julian rubbed at his chin, looking between us. “Dare I say, even uncomfortable together.”

“We felt very comfortable yesterday, when we broke your bed together, weren’t we, baby?” Chase dropped an impersonal kiss on my head. I nodded stiffly, more concerned with sticking it to Julian than berating Chase at the moment.

“Don’t worry. I’ll send a replacement this afternoon.” Chase chucked my chin lovingly. He was disgustingly good at playing the dutiful fiancé.

“Make it white. I’m redecorating.” I played along.

“Bull, meet shit. I wasn’t born yesterday.” Julian’s beady eyes danced in their sockets. “You’re lying. You’re not together, but Chase is now working his way back into your good graces, and the naive little girl that you are—you are falling for it.”

I swallowed down my pride—and anger—keeping my smile intact. A part of me had pondered the same thing. Whether Chase had suddenly begun to kiss me and take interest in me just because he needed to keep me close. I knew very well that he wanted us to be fake-real-dating. With all the perks of a couple, but without the commitment and feelings.

“I really don’t appreciate what you are insinuating,” I heard myself say in my bubbly, customer-oriented, can’t-we-all-just-get-along voice. “Chase and I have been together for almost a year. I understand in light of what Clementine said, you are a little suspicious, but you are being unnecessarily crude right now.”

“Oh, Maddie,” Julian sighed melodramatically in the same tone he’d say, Oh, you little idiot. “We both know you two weren’t together the entire time.”

“We do?” I perked up, going for sarcasm. Chase’s body quivered with an unrestrained chuckle next to me.

“Unless he cheated on you with at least three women. Chase here is not very good at keeping his private business . . . well, private. And I do like to pay him surprise visits, just to check on my baby bro.” He winked at Chase.

I felt physically sick, even though Julian’s information came as no surprise to me. I knew Chase had hooked up with women after we’d broken up. Sven had flat-out told me so. And yet feeling his arm draped on me and knowing it to be true made me want to curl into a ball of misery and self-loathing.

“All is forgiven and forgotten,” I said breezily, swallowing down the bile in my throat. I hated Chase so much in that moment I wanted to stab him with a sketching pencil. I felt like Eliza Hamilton. Smiling to the world to save face while her brilliantly devastating husband owned up to his affairs.

“Is that so?” Julian arched a cynical brow.

“People make mistakes all the time,” I gritted out.

“Yes. Your husband-to-be seems to be living proof of that. And now he is faithful, I’m guessing?”

“More than your wife ever will be.” Chase shrugged.

“Watch it.” Julian lifted a warning finger.

“Seen enough.” Chase sucked his teeth, a taunting grin playing on his face. “And cut the brotherly bullshit. Our relationship died the day Dad announced me as the future CEO. Just remember, Julian, in war, there are winners and losers. Historically speaking, the winners don’t take mercy on those who tried to dethrone them.”

My eyes ping-ponged between the two men. I was trapped in the unfurling of a family calamity. Finally, I stepped between them, a referee of sorts.

“Okay, that’s enough. Chase, give him the quarterly . . . growth . . . whatever.” I gestured impatiently with my hand to the folder on his desk. Chase took the paper he’d been reading earlier and held it out to Julian. “Julian, please give us some privacy, and do knock next time. Thank you.”

I physically closed the door behind Julian to speed up the process. Being around them together was exhausting. I turned to Chase. “About what we discussed. To continue this until . . .”

Your father dies. I couldn’t complete the sentence. We both looked away. I thought about Mom. Specifically, about one of her letters, where she said there was beauty in everything. Even in losing someone. I’d been so mad when I’d read it that I’d taken a lighter to it and started burning it before chickening out. To this day, it was the only letter in less than pristine condition. It was blackened around the edges, marshmallow-like. “I’m sorry, Chase, but I can’t do this. I would if I could, but I don’t want to get hurt. And this”—I motioned between us—“it’s already killing me, and it’s not even real.”