Women aside.
Madison took another sip and I exhaled, letting my shoulders drop and the stress of my earlier phone call slide away. There was nothing I could do about it until tomorrow, so I may as well enjoy this afternoon.
And tonight.
With Madison.
The wedding was private—no paparazzi to witness anything. I wasn’t working. Madison was beautiful, feisty, and sitting next to me. All the ingredients of a perfect evening.
“Okay,” she said. “It’s good, I’ll admit that. But we’re eating chicken. I’m not sure it goes with this.”
“It goes with everything,” I replied.
“Do you always have to have the last word?” she asked and then took a forkful of chicken.
“In some settings,” I replied, thinking about the last time I hadn’t gotten the last word at Astro Holdings. Probably when I asked the board to ignore the “rumblings” in the City and instead focus on the results. I got told that perception was the only thing that mattered.
Which might be true but didn’t mean it wasn’t bollocks.
“How do you know Noah and Truly?” I asked.
A grin unraveled across her face so wide and warm the air around us seemed to heat. I couldn’t help myself from smiling in response. “You’re small-talking,” she said. “I’m proud of you.”
“I’ll expect a certificate if I make it through the entire evening.”
“Maybe we’ll be through the small talk by then. You never know—we might be mere moments away from confessing our darkest secrets, connecting on a deeper level.”
“Or we might end up naked, connecting on a physical level,” I replied casually, as if I’d told her it looked like it might rain tomorrow.
Madison stopped chewing mid-mouthful and her eyes slid to mine. She swallowed, went to speak and then stopped herself before eventually saying, “Well, I suppose you’ve seen my knickers. It is the next step.” She took a sip of her wine. “I should have known you’d rather have sex than a deep and meaningful conversation. I guess the gossip about you is true.”
“Don’t believe everything you read in the papers.” I was single and sitting next to a gorgeous woman. Of course, I was going to flirt. I was only human.
She shot me a knowing smile. “Oh right, is this it?” she asked. “I get it. You’re the poor, misunderstood guy who’s just waiting for the right woman. The knickers probably drop to the floor of their own volition.”
This woman had read more about me than I was comfortable with, and as a result she’d pegged me wrong. I didn’t play games—I didn’t need to. “I think you must be hard of hearing,” I replied. “Like your friend there.” I nodded at the elderly man sitting on her other side. “It’s not like I’m putting on an act. I couldn’t have been clearer or more straightforward. You suggested we connect—what? Emotionally? I simply countered with an alternative. If you think women need to be tricked into going to bed with me, then I’m offended.”
“You are not offended,” she scoffed.
“No, I’m not. But, Madison, women want to sleep with me. I don’t need to trap them, lie to them, or create some story about being wounded.”
“Oh,” she said as if she’d just understood the first law of thermodynamics. “Because you’re just that good-looking you have women falling at your feet. Now I understand.”
“Is it so difficult to believe that women like sex just as much as I do?” I asked. “Maybe you’re living in some Jane Austen adaptation, but the rest of us are in the twenty-first century. Women are allowed their sexual appetites.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m wrong.”
It couldn’t be that easy. “That’s it? You’re wrong, I’m right, end of discussion?”
She shrugged, took a sip of wine, and set down her glass. “Yup,” she said. “You’re right. I was falling back on old-fashioned stereotypes.”
I chuckled. “Are you the perfect human being?” I asked. “You’re prepared to be wrong and admit it.”
“I’m far from perfect,” she said. “I’m clumsy—as you’ve witnessed—I hate being at weddings alone, and I’m never happy with my mascara. But admitting that someone has a good point and proved me wrong? That I can do.”
Having grown up with four brothers who would fight to the death rather than admit they were wrong, Madison’s admission had me flummoxed.
“I don’t think it’s so unusual,” she said, spearing another bite of chicken.
“Well, unusual or not, I like it.” It wasn’t her acquiescence—I wasn’t so insecure I had to dominate every interaction with another human being. It was just that she’d listened to me and decided to change her mind. That took confidence. It was the confidence that sent me over the edge.
She grinned a wide, open, innocent grin and shrugged, and for a split second I was transported back to endless summers playing in the sprinklers with my brothers and making dens in the woods, to drinking tomato soup and using sparklers as light sabers on bonfire night, to a time when life was simple. Straightforward. Fun.