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“Do you have an itinerary for the day or anything I need to be aware of, Mrs. Stryker?”
If we hadn’t had the weird power struggle we had initially, I would have been happy for her to call me Madison, but Mrs. Stryker is probably the right tone to set after all of that.
“I thought I’d go shopping today with my friend.”
Again, testing the waters to see just how real all of Aidan’s promises are. Can I leave the house? Can I use the black card? Can I wander around without question? Can I hire Claude on full time? All these exciting questions will be answered on the next episode of Forcefully Married to the Crime Lord.
“Of course,” Cora says. “I’ll let Vincent and your security detail know. When should they be ready to leave?” She tends to call the staff by their more formal given names.
“Thirty minutes?” I say it more as a question and realize I’m actually going to have to take the question marks off my statements if I want to be taken seriously. I used to know how to do this. I’m trying to reclaim who I was… a queen bee. Losing everything with the IRS shook some of my confidence, but if ever there was a time to project my long lost queen energy, it’s now.
Aidan may hold all the ultimate power, but clearly he won’t always be here, and I won’t always be with him. So, I am absolutely going to leverage that to the highest level I can and wield whatever level of power I can hold.
I texted Erica to meet me while I was getting ready this morning. I feel like I haven’t seen her in forever, but it’s only been two days. My relationship with time is really off right now.
I’m still considering means of escape, but the betraying part of my brain has decided I should just stay here and be the Queen of the Castle. It’s definitely a whole other level of wealth and privilege than I was raised in. And it’s very very tempting, especially with the effect actual adult Aidan has on me.
I can pretend all I want that he’s still that awkward weird thirteen-year-old boy that stared at me too much and followed me around, but that creepy stare has turned into a smoldering intensity that does all kinds of wrong things to me.
Poor Poor little Maddie… rich hot husband who literally killed for her. All the comfort and luxury she could require. Not locked up in the house. What a tragic life. Won’t somebody please think of Madison? Somewhere in the distance a song about being in the arms of the angels starts to play as we cut to her sad sad eyes.
My inner monologue is getting quite ridiculous. But the other side of being raised around wealth is… the pretty picture on the outside is almost never what’s going on underneath the surface.
In reality it’s usually financial control, various forms of abuse, cheating, micro-managing and massaging an “appearance” for society. And by society I mean… High Society—those our snobby circles have determined to be “the people who matter”. The reality for many a pampered princess in the higher strata of society is having to beg or “perform” for every single scrap from the man providing it for them. Everything held over your head. There isn’t a single thing that won’t be paid for, usually in a transactional sexual way.
If I’m really honest about it, I’ve seen hints of that from my father toward my mother. He always doted on me, but it did sometimes feel like my mother had to remain useful in some way to be afforded the lifestyle my father promised her, even though she herself came from money. They met at the country club. She wasn’t some lost, struggling Cinderella waiting for her prince to come. She had her own trust fund.
So even though every fiber of my being wants to just forget Aidan’s darker side and fall into this situation, the smarter side of me knows this can’t be real, and I can’t trust it. I can’t afford to be that foolish. How can I truly be safe with this man? And when the novelty of showering me with gifts and wooing and impressing me fades, I can’t be anywhere near here.
I can’t just fall into this like some little idiot. I need to get away while I have the chance. I at least need to try.
Twenty-Two
Maddie
I picked a nice little bistro that serves upscale soups and sandwiches in a quiet environment. I make the goons sit at the other end of the restaurant where they have a clear sight line of me but can’t overhear our conversation. And I managed to get us seated in a booth away from most of the other patrons.
It helped when I gave the name Stryker to the hostess. Aidan’s family name may not be known the world over, but in this city, it carries a kind of power Prescott never had.
“I can’t believe Aidan let you off the leash,” Erica says.
“You call this off the leash?” I say, nodding at my security detail who should be happy I had the good grace to feed them and not make them stand out in the sweltering sun. Though I know there’s no reality where they would be willing to be anywhere where they couldn’t keep direct visual contact the entire time. I’m not sure if this is because Aidan “has enemies” or if it’s because they suspect I’ll try to run away. It may be a bit of both.
“I just thought he’d keep you in bed all day,” she says.
I roll my eyes at this because I desperately want that idea to be eyeroll-worthy. Once I explained about Aidan in the alley, Erica flipped on me and became Team Aidan. She was there the entire time when we were growing up while Aidan felt like this malevolent presence who was constantly my shadow. So she knows. And yet, apparently all it takes for her to switch teams is some well-placed tattoos, general purpose brooding hotness, and about the same amount of money as God.
“You know he’s dangerous. Sure, it starts out with him as some hot anti-hero rescuing me from gross predators in the alley but where does it end? You’ve seen as much as I have in our world… you know he’s not safe.”
She sighs. “I know. But maybe you could just… see what happens?” she says hopefully.
I sip my raspberry iced tea and think this over for a few minutes. Isn’t this the bargain I was already making with myself?
“I was going to try to slip my security detail today.” But even as I say it, it already feels like I don’t really mean it. I don’t think I yet have the proper motivation to flee. Besides, I already tried getting away during the wedding planning.
“Where would you go?”
I sigh. I have no idea.