Page 3 of Mad for Madison (The Boys of Hudson Burrow #4)

CHAPTER 3

Into the Unknown

Bradley

Mama Viv worked out a new schedule at Neon Nights to give me Friday afternoon and the entire weekend off. Roman, who’d worked on and off as a waiter before scoring a job with a legal defense firm after making a grand stand against the Langley’s bulldozers in front of Neon Nights, said, “To be honest, I sometimes miss working here. It’ll be good to cover for you.”

I met Madison downtown, where nobody knew either of us, on Friday afternoon. We had lunch Madison insisted on buying, and I assumed it was the bribe he thought he owed me for doing him this favor.

“Got any second thoughts?” Madison asked after we chatted shortly about Neon Nights and the things we’d been up to for the last two days. Madison’s activities apparently amounted to “not much.”

I shook my head in reply. “Told you, we’re doing this.”

“Good,” Madison said, his face calm until a smile rippled across and disappeared. “We can improvise most of it throughout the night, but I thought that we should have some kind of a story ready.”

“Like, why does nobody know you’re dating,” I suggested.

“Easy,” Madison said. “I don’t bring my life to work and vice versa.”

I nodded. That seemed like the simplest answer.

“But then you’ll get the usual questions. Are you in the industry? No? Don’t you mind seeing your boyfriend’s work?” Madison cracked a smile like we were in on a private joke. Maybe we were. He knew I’d seen him, although I was never going to admit just how much of Madison I had seen since discovering his work.

A different thing made me smile and flush. My boyfriend , I thought. “I, uh, never had a boyfriend,” I said before my brain caught up with me and told me that was exactly the wrong thing to say right now.

“You’re kidding,” Madison said.

Embarrassment zinged through me, and I shook my head. “It’s not important right now.”

“How come?” he asked as if I hadn’t tried to deflect.

“Who’s got the time?” I joked, but Madison simply looked at me and waited for the answer. So I sighed and leaned back. If he didn’t know my circumstances, it wasn’t for any great secrecy. Most regulars at Neon Nights knew my story. “When I was seventeen, I dated this girl, Ava,” I said.

Madison lifted his eyebrows suspiciously.

“A desperate cry,” I admitted. “I kinda knew the truth by then, but I hoped the right girl would cure me.” I waved my hand dismissively. “Don’t ask. I was terrified. It’s a lifetime ago. But then, still in high school, I wanted to be fixed. So, I made myself go through with it, and it was the wake-up call I needed. Except, Ava got pregnant and, after a series of small indecisions, left our daughter with me.”

“You had a kid?” Madison gawked.

I nodded, half smiling. “Lily. She’s six. She’s my world, don’t get me wrong, but becoming a dad at eighteen doesn’t help you on the dating scene.”

“And you never had a boyfriend,” Madison finished for me.

“I can’t think of many guys my age who swing by Neon Nights who want to date a single dad.” I scratched the back of my neck. “I sound ungrateful. I swear, I love Lily more than life. And I wouldn’t trade this life for all the riches in the world.”

“But…” Madison’s voice carried far more compassion than I would have expected.

“We all have wishes that can’t come true,” I said as casually as I could. Not in a million years would I tell him how much I longed to have my hand held, for the back of a finger to slide down the side of my face, for a pair of lips to press against my mouth. I wouldn’t tell him how I yearned to leave someone’s apartment wearing his hoodie because we’d spilled wine on mine, how I craved to be together under a blanket, warm and happy and relaxed, watching a movie.

“Can’t? I don’t know about that,” Madison said. “Are you looking?”

“This really isn’t a problem we should be solving,” I said politely.

“Suit yourself,” Madison said. “But for what it’s worth, I think there are plenty of guys who wouldn’t bat an eyelash at your situation for a chance to be with you.”

Two men passed by our table and put their heads together, whispering, their glances lingering on Madison. It was the escape I so desperately needed. “Oh, look at that, you got recognized.”

Madison smirked.

“Does it happen a lot?” I asked. I knew of two videos that had reached over a million views on a certain website I occasionally visited.

“You’d be surprised,” Madison said.

I shook my head. “I doubt I would.”

He had that wickedly handsome smile on again as he leaned closer over the table. “The number of times a very straight dude with a girl under his arm spotted me in the subway or on the beach is ridiculous.”

“No way,” I said, thinking he was joking.

“Seriously, I can totally tell when someone stares at me like they know they’ve seen me before, but they don’t know when or where. And then, ‘Ah!’ They remember, cheeks red, lips pursed tight, eyebrows twisting in anger, and eyes looking elsewhere. I love it when that happens.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, looking at me with shameless satisfaction.

He had no idea just how attractive he was when he smiled. It was completely unlike the role he played for views. He had no idea what those smiles did to me, and I wanted to keep it that way.

“Bradley,” he said, momentarily taking my breath away when his lips formed my name. But his tone was more serious now. “Have you ever been with a guy?”

Before I could shape a lie believable enough, the answer rippled over my face, surprise mixed with hurt. “Why does that matter? It’s not like we’ll have to prove it to everyone at the party.”

He laughed and shook his head. “I’m trying to get to know you.”

And that simple fact made me choose honesty over deflection more than anything else. So I shook my head shortly. To lighten it up, I forced out a laugh. “Like I said, who’s got the time?”

But the way Madison watched me, his eyes solely on my face, his attention so complete and concentrated on me that I felt seen beyond being noticed, told me that he knew how futile the attempt to divert was. “Just because you’re a dad, it doesn’t mean you can’t have room for your life, too.”

For a time, I said nothing. He wouldn’t understand. How could he? His job was to be seductive, flirtatious, good-looking, and shameless. His life was built on these pillars, and his lifestyle depended on his sexual expression. We were completely different.

I wanted to be like him more than I could put into words. I wanted to know what it was like to wear that sculpted body for a day, to be seen by strangers, to be so indulgent in all that pleased me, yet it was a life I’d only ever gotten to observe from afar.

I shrugged. “It’s not that important.”

“But you want to,” Madison said.

When I was free, I had Lily. Gran deserved some free time, too. And Lily deserved to grow up with at least one good parent to enrich her memories. She was six years old, and this was the time for her to look up at the person holding her hand and know they were there.

“Sex isn’t everything,” I said, my tone dropping from casual to warning before I could control it.

Madison nodded curtly. “I didn’t say it was.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me, Madison,” I said, seeing pity unfold in his eyes. “If you do, they’ll smell it on you. The whole charade’s gonna fall apart the moment we walk in.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for you,” Madison protested.

“That’s a lie. We both know it. We’re different, that’s all. We couldn’t be more different if we tried.” I looked away. On the other side of the restaurant’s glass walls, the sidewalks of New York were covered in a thick layer of old snow. People wearing coats, beanies, and boots hurried along, cars clogged and congested in the streets, and the afternoon twilight gave way to the early evening.

“It’s not a lie, Bradley,” Madison said. “If anything, I admire you. And I don’t think we’re so different at all. We do what we need to do.”

It was a romanticized way of looking at things. It was also flawed because our situations couldn’t be further apart.

“Shouldn’t we be going?” I asked.

Madison nodded, although it wasn’t a reply to my question but an acknowledgment that the conversation was over. I wished I could be more casual about it, but it was a raw topic. It was a painful one, too. As a teenager in school, I had seen boys and girls discover attraction, hand-holding, and kissing. I had watched them grow aware of their and each other’s bodies. And in all that time, I had known that I couldn’t have that.

Moving to the city to live with Gran opened my eyes to all the possibilities that I had never had. And raising a little princess-farmer-astronaut mattered far more than indulging in my unfulfilled teenage wants.

Madison proposed touring a few high-end stores where I’d never before walked in. I knew they existed, but they existed for other people. To me, they were just windows with pretty exhibitions of custom-made garments that I occasionally passed by.

“We should probably wear something that goes well together,” Madison mused when we entered a tailor shop. “Something appropriate for an evening gala, but modern, you know? Something that says, ‘New York.’”

The tailor seemed to understand exactly what Madison was talking about, so I surrendered myself to a lengthy process of being measured. It would have been fine except for the fact that Madison and I were having our measurements taken simultaneously. The older man who ran the shop had two apprentices who instructed us to undress down to our underwear, and that was the start of my problems.

For all my talk of not being interested in men, I knew how big of a lie it all was. And having told the tailor we were a couple, we were sent behind a screen together.

In the small space with little privacy, Madison seemed to have no reservations about undoing the buttons of his shirt. He wore an undershirt that hugged his torso tightly, and untucking the shirt he’d been wearing tugged on the undershirt’s lower hem. For the briefest of moments, the undershirt lifted above the waist of his pants and revealed an inch of his flesh, skin smooth and tanned, taut over his muscles, entirely unlike mine.

I took off my shirt carefully, making sure Madison didn’t get to see the softness that padded my muscles. And when Madison pulled out the belt from around his waist, his biceps tensed hard, and the move reminded me of the many times I had seen him do a very similar thing on the small screen of my phone.

Air hitched in my throat as Madison undid the button and the zipper on his pants, pulling them down his legs and stepping out of them with care, folding them over the back of a chair, and stepping aside to give me space to undress.

I did it quickly and methodically, pretending I wasn’t in his view. Not that a guy like Madison would ever look at me twice. I was plain, unremarkable, and clearly no longer as fit as I had been a year ago. What was there for him to look at? My ass wasn’t particularly big, and neither was my dick. My torso had been defined once when I’d had the time to put in the effort, but I’d softened with time.

I didn’t look at Madison when I stepped out. Despite looking everywhere but at him, I saw that he wore branded black boxer briefs and that no tricks had been used for the camera to make him appear as anything other than what he was like.

The apprentices measured us thoroughly, and the tailor directed us to dress again after testing a few fabrics and getting Madison’s approval.

After we left, we walked down the street as if this hadn’t been the strangest experience of my recent years. “Um, how much does all this…?”

“Don’t think about it,” Madison said. “It’s all covered.” He smiled when he glanced at me. “I’d never put that burden on you. You’re doing me a huge favor.”

“Well,” I huffed, not sure how to act. “I’ll make sure I don’t spill something on it.”

Madison laughed. “Do whatever you want, Bradley. It’s yours.” And before I could protest, he went on. “But I’d like to express my gratitude somehow. This really is a big deal for me.”

“You don’t need to do that,” I assured him.

I wasn’t certain that he’d accepted my answer as final. Instead, he moved the conversation elsewhere. “I’ll pick you up in a limo around six, and we’ll head back here to dress, then join the party. Just make sure you’re ready to leave when I call. And let me think about the rest.”

A sudden wave of anxiety over this entire plan came over me, making my spine tingle. This was real, this crazy little charade. We had to make everyone, or Dane Pierce at least, believe that I was Madison’s boyfriend.

Much later, after I’d spent my evening with Lily and Gran, pretending that everything was normal, I stood before the bathroom mirror and wondered how in the hell we were going to convince anyone that Madison would go after someone like me.

Madison was on time. The rich leather of the limo seat was cool against the back of my neck as I leaned against it, staring out the window at the city lights flickering past. My tie—if you could even call it that—felt foreign, like I’d wandered into someone else’s life. The tailor had called it an “avant-garde statement piece,” but to me, it was just another reminder that I wasn’t in Kansas anymore. Not that I’d ever been to Kansas.

The deep charcoal-gray suit I wore fit like a glove, all clean lines and subtle sheen that hinted at midnight blue under the right light. The lapels were sharp and slightly asymmetrical, breaking just enough from tradition to make me nervous. Beneath it, the black silk shirt clung to my torso, open at the collar just enough to make me feel like a rebel—or maybe like I was underdressed for the occasion. The tie—or scarf, really—was a soft ribbon of satin that hung loose around my neck, artfully knotted but not tight. “Relaxed elegance,” the tailor had said with a flourish, but I felt like I’d been dressed for a fashion shoot I hadn’t signed up for.

Madison, on the other hand, looked as if he’d stepped straight out of a fantasy. His suit was burgundy, a shade so rich it could have been wrung out of a bottle of the finest wine. It shimmered faintly with a satin finish that caught the light every time he shifted, the effect amplified by the tailored perfection of the jacket that hugged his slim frame. Beneath it, his crisp white shirt was buttoned up, but the collar wasn’t boring—no, it had these subtle silver embellishments that matched the chain glinting in place of a tie. The slacks were tailored just enough to show off his legs, and the whole look was finished with sleek black leather shoes that could probably double as mirrors.

Sitting across from me, he smirked like he knew exactly how good he looked. Which he did. He always did.

“You’re pulling off that suit pretty well,” Madison said, his gaze raking over me appreciatively. I fought the heat rising in my neck and shrugged.

“You don’t look half-bad yourself,” I shot back. It was meant to sound casual, but my voice came out rough, like gravel.

“Just half?” he teased, leaning forward slightly. The movement made the light dance over the satin of his suit, and for a second, I forgot how to breathe.

“Fine,” I said, shifting awkwardly in my seat. “You look incredible. Happy?”

“Very.” His grin widened, and he settled back, one leg crossing over the other effortlessly. “You’ll thank me later for dragging you to that tailor. We’re going to steal the spotlight tonight.”

I wasn’t sure about stealing anything except maybe a breath or two when I caught my reflection in the window. But as Madison leaned his head back, eyes half-closed, exuding confidence like it was something he wore as easily as his suit, I couldn’t help but wonder if we’d be stealing something else, too: trouble.

Madison had warned me before we’d arrived at the shop that we needed to be physical if anyone was going to believe the ruse. I guessed it was my creeping blush that provoked a more detailed explanation. “You know? Arm touching, whispering to each other, your hand on the small of my back. Nothing compromising.”

“Oh,” I’d replied, wondering why I sounded disappointed. It was a role—just like the roles Madison played for everyone watching his work. It wasn’t real.

The limo slowed as the gleaming facade of the Orbit Hotel came into view. The building stood like a monolith of polished glass and steel, reflecting the vibrant glow of the city back at itself. A crimson carpet rolled out from the curb, guiding an endless parade of guests into the hotel’s soaring atrium. Cameras flashed in rhythmic bursts, capturing suits that cost more than I made in six months.

My throat tightened as the car eased to a stop. This was another world—a world where people walked with their spines impossibly straight, their every movement calculated for maximum elegance. The valet opened Madison’s door first, and the outside sounds rushed in: laughter, murmured conversation, the hum of expensive engines idling nearby.

Madison stepped out with an effortless grace that I could never replicate. As he stood, he adjusted his suit jacket with a practiced flick of his wrist, a small smile already in place like he’d been born knowing how to work a crowd. Then, he turned and offered me his hand.

I hesitated for a heartbeat before taking it. His fingers were warm and steady, a stark contrast to the icy panic flooding my chest. When I joined him on the sidewalk, I felt like every eye was on us, cataloging every inch of my not-good-enough self and finding me wanting.

“This place is…something,” I muttered, my voice barely audible over the ambient noise.

Madison leaned in, his shoulder brushing mine. “You belong here just as much as anyone else.”

I didn’t reply, my gaze glued to the red carpet as my feet carried me forward on autopilot. Each step felt heavier than the last, and the doubts started creeping in like cold tendrils wrapping around my chest. I wasn’t suave like Madison. I wasn’t rich, famous, or part of this glittering crowd. What if I said the wrong thing? Or did the wrong thing?

What if I ruined this for him?

But just as the weight became unbearable, Madison’s finger brushed against mine. It was barely a touch, a fleeting connection, but it was enough to snap me out of my spiral. I glanced at him, startled, and found his eyes on mine, calm and steady.

“You’re doing great,” he said softly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.

It wasn’t much, but it was everything. I nodded, forcing myself to take a deep breath. My shoulders relaxed a fraction, and I straightened my posture, letting his quiet confidence carry me forward. We reached the entrance, and as we stepped through the towering glass doors into the opulent warmth of the hotel, I realized something surprising: Madison’s touch wasn’t just grounding—it was anchoring me to the moment, to him.

The moment we stepped into the lobby, the air seemed to crackle with energy. Photographers crowded around the entrance, their cameras firing in quick succession as Madison and I emerged from the revolving doors. I tried to keep my expression neutral, but the sheer thrill of it—walking into a room like this with someone like Madison—was impossible to ignore.

Madison’s hand found its way to the small of my back, just like he’d said it would. The touch was light but grounding, like a secret tether between us in the chaos. He leaned in as if to whisper something to me, his lips close enough to brush my ear. The photographers ate it up, their shouts blending into a chorus of “Nico! Over here!” and “Who’s your date?”

I didn’t need to fake the flush spreading across my cheeks. It felt surreal and a little intoxicating to be part of this world, even if it was just an act. Madison, ever the professional, tilted his head toward me with a soft smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners like he wasn’t just playing a role. For a moment, even I could almost believe we were what they thought we were.

He’d warned me there would be cameras, but these were hardly the kind of magazines that Gran read. Besides, she would understand if I ever had to explain my actions.

Then we were past the cameras, gliding through an archway draped in black-and-gold fabric into the private area where the guests were gathering. The vibe shifted instantly. Gone was the frantic energy of the lobby, replaced by a more refined hum of conversation and clinking glasses. The space was stunning— marble floors gleamed under the soft glow of crystal chandeliers, and waiters weaved gracefully through the crowd with trays of champagne.

I barely had time to take it all in before my eyes landed on a face I recognized. And then another. And another. A strange mix of awkwardness and giddiness bubbled up inside me as I realized I was surrounded by men whose work I definitely shouldn’t admit to knowing. But hey, I was a busy guy. The films these guys made were my escape. There was the guy who’d once starred in Nate’s Great Eight —a pun I still couldn’t get over and the content of which still had me blushing. And that was the couple from Sailors Knot . They were…taller in person.

Madison must have noticed my sudden stillness because he leaned close again, his voice smooth and calm. “Relax,” he murmured. “You look great, and no one here bites. Unless you ask nicely.”

I huffed a laugh and gave him a sidelong glance, but he was already tugging me further into the crowd. Everywhere we went, people greeted him warmly. It was like watching a light switch on—Madison transformed into someone effortlessly charming, confident, magnetic. He introduced me casually, always with a touch: his hand brushing my arm, a slight press of his shoulder against mine. It was physical but never overbearing, and it left me feeling like I was the only person in the room.

It was disorienting and thrilling all at once. No one seemed to look at me like I didn’t belong, even if that was exactly how I felt inside. Madison was a master at weaving me into the fabric of the evening, his charisma smoothing over any of my awkward edges.

When someone stopped him to chat—an older man in an impeccable suit with a name I instantly forgot—I caught myself watching the way Madison gestured as he spoke, the easy way he smiled. The kind of ease I could only dream of. And then, as if he could sense my thoughts, Madison turned his gaze back to me and winked, his fingers brushing mine for the briefest second.

That giddy awkwardness I’d been fighting off came rushing back, but this time, it wasn’t because of the crowd or the cameras or even the celebrities. It was because of him.

“I want you to meet someone,” he said, and for a moment, I believed that it was pivotal to him that I should meet someone he admired, almost as if what I thought mattered to him.

He put his hand on the small of my back and gestured around the place with a champagne glass in his other hand, pointing to Ricardo Santana, who I recognized instantly from Madison’s hottest video from last year. He pointed at a couple of other men and three women in a group, explaining those were the directors of his various projects.

“You’re not introducing me to directors, are you?” I asked, my throat dry.

“Oh, no, nothing like that,” Madison said, chuckling. He nudged me to the right, where two men stood side by side, chatting, although their eyes scanned the room. An air of importance and satisfaction enveloped them, but delight came to their faces when they spotted Madison.

The taller one was a blond, handsome, lean man, while the shorter one was dark-haired and very well-built. “Bradley, these are my old friends Austin James and Luca DiMarco,” Madison said. “Austin heads Crimson Nights organization. This is his gala.”

It took me a moment to recover, and Luca saw it. The adopted son in the DiMarco family was not a man you could easily miss, but I turned to Austin instead. “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” I said, shaking his hand. “You put together a wonderful event.” Then came Luca’s turn, and I feared that my nerves would betray me.

Madison’s hand on my back rubbed me in a slow, lazy circle and offered courage. “Luca has an organization offering protection to abuse victims with shelters across the country. Was it Rainbow Hearts?”

“Precisely,” Luca said.

It tickled my memory as Luca and I shook hands. “One in Beacon, perhaps?” I asked.

“Do you know it?” Luca asked.

“Oh, I think a friend of mine is performing there later this month,” I said.

Austin’s brow wrinkled in thought. “That would be Vivien Woodcock, right?” A grin split his face when he saw the confirmation on my face. “We don’t do these events often, but Viv’s been making a name for herself.”

Mama Viv had been performing at charity events for years, but her involvement had intensified in recent years, especially now when the community showed up at Neon Nights to stop the demolition.

“The world is one small village,” Luca said.

“I can’t believe you know Mama Viv,” I said, turning to Madison to see his reaction.

Madison beamed with pride, almost as if he was watching his boyfriend make a good impression on the people that mattered to him. It was a lie too easy to believe.

Madison

I picked Bradley’s champagne glass when he emptied it, leaving him with Austin and Luca to find out just how Austin got to hosting an event like this. The mental health of sex workers wasn’t exactly a burning topic for most people. So, while Austin told Bradley about the work he had done as an escort before meeting Luca, I walked over to the bar and ordered two light cocktails, figuring it was time to taper off a little.

As I waited for the drinks, I looked across the ballroom to where Bradley was engaged in an animated conversation about something. Curiosity erupted in me. I wanted to be there and hear what he was so excited about. Whatever it was, it made Luca put a hand on his stomach and throw his head back, laughing.

Taking Bradley here had been a brilliant idea, but it just added a whole new set of problems. How would I ever explain to Austin and Luca that we had broken up? I would have to make myself the bad guy. The only other believable thing to say would be that Bradley couldn’t look past my career choices—a thing so obvious nobody would doubt it. But I couldn’t paint Bradley that way.

Perhaps I would just drag him to parties and have him role-play as my boyfriend from time to time and keep the lie going. He was definitely buttering up the right people. Luca DiMarco was not just an incredibly rich son of a questionable family or a protector of the bruised and wounded with his network of shelters; he was a patron of erotic art, too. I had seen Levi Bartlet’s portraits of Austin. Luca had practically turned Levi into a sensation with his connections and honest appreciation.

I tucked these thoughts away. They were daydreams. I wasn’t nearly as good as Levi. My stuff referenced a much more classical era of art, the sort that peaked with Henry Scott Tuke a hundred years ago.

The bartender was crushing ice when a deep purr sent chills down my spine. “I must be hallucinating. Madison Masters is standing alone without his human shield.”

I turned to my left and stood face-to-face with the very person I had been trying to avoid by bringing Bradley along. “Dane,” I said, my voice far from calm. I hated how he used my real name to imply power over me.

“You look wonderful, babe,” he said. “Burgundy was always your color.”

I clenched my teeth at the word he used. It had been over a year since he’d had any right to call me that, and even then, it hadn’t felt natural. “What do you want?”

Dane Pierce made a wounded expression. “Why do you hate me?”

I could have listed ten reasons off the top of my head, but I didn’t. It would only entertain him and rope me into a conversation.

“All I want is for you to succeed, Madison,” Dane said.

“I’m plenty successful already,” I said. “No thanks to you.”

Dane sucked his teeth and pretended I hadn’t accused him of stalling my career last year. “Hon, your vanilla stuff is outdated,” he said with all the genuine affection of a loving, caring mother. “Have you watched any porn lately? Times are changing. You shouldn’t stay on the sinking ship when I’m here pedaling a lifeboat.”

I rolled my eyes. “You know who they say leaves the sinking ship first?”

“Be real, Madison,” he said. “I’m starting a production company. I need guys like you.”

Tension twisted and strained every muscle in my body.

“Guys who can take it,” Dane said in a lower voice. “And I know you can.”

I looked at him with fury burning plainly in my eyes. The only reason he knew that was because he didn’t know when to stop and didn’t give a fuck about the script. “I told you already, I’m not interested.”

“You’re talented, Madison,” he persisted, putting his hand on my arm. He didn’t hurt me, but the grip was strong enough to keep me there unless I wanted someone to notice the struggle. “And you know we’re fire together.”

“There you are,” a voice sent by the heavens said. Bradley’s arm circled around my waist, and he pulled me close. He couldn’t know this, but the relief I felt was such that I could have kissed him.

I didn’t need to kiss him. He leaned in and pressed his lips against my cheek.

The smile that came to my face couldn’t have been faked, especially when Dane tensed and stepped back.

“I’m thirsty,” Bradley said. “Who’s your friend that’s keeping you?”

“Uh, Bradley, this is Dane. Dane, Bradley.” I introduced them, but neither moved to shake hands. Bradley’s right arm was still around my waist, and he looked at Dane with innocent bewilderment as if asking him why the hell he had been keeping me and what the point of him standing here still was.

Truly, it was a master class in bitchiness.

Stiff and cold, Dane examined Bradley like he’d just fallen through the roof. “Bradley who?”

“Just Bradley,” my date said. “Madison’s boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Dane didn’t bother hiding the distaste on his face. He looked at me. “I didn’t realize you had a boyfriend.”

“Well, I do,” I said.

“Good for you,” Dane said. “Anyway, you have my number. Don’t delete it just yet. You’ll need better opportunities soon.” His smug tone, mixed with a glance at Bradley, made me want to claw his eyes out.

“That’s funny,” Bradley said. “Madison’s been telling me how he’s happy precisely where he is.”

“I’m sure he is,” Dane said, his voice hinting at double meaning and not hiding sarcasm. Still, he retreated with what little grace was left to him. “We’ll be in touch.”

“I doubt it,” I said.

As Dane turned away from us, I handed Bradley his cocktail and bit the straw sticking out of mine.

“Why is he being so pushy?” Bradley asked.

“I’ll tell you later when we’re alone.” I drank, my head cooling down a little.

“Alone?” Bradley asked.

“Shit, it was supposed to be a surprise,” I said, facing him. “I got us rooms for the night as a thank-you. I figured you deserve a little pampering away from work and home.”

Bradley lit up, but the effort he made to hide his happiness was even cuter. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“And you didn’t have to come here to rescue me,” I said. “But you still did.”

Bradley smiled, looking away. A shared moment of silence made me lean closer to him. “You know what? We can go up already.”

“Are you sure?” Bradley asked, the redness in his cheeks speaking of such incredible innocence that I wondered if I’d planned this whole thing wrong.

“I’ve shown my face,” I said. “And we’ve talked to a lot of rich men looking for a good charity cause to support. Our work is done.”

“If you think so,” Bradley said, the corners of his lips twitching.

It was a good sign.