Page 19 of Mad Rivals (The Bradley Legacy #1)

Nowhere to Run

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t even have Clem with me.

I told her about the kiss with Madden when I got home that night. Eight days later, embarrassment still burns.

She said I misinterpreted his curse. She says he wouldn’t have leaned his forehead to mine if he wanted to get away from me, and I guess her argument has legs.

“You weren’t there.” That was my flat reply. In the moment, it felt like he stopped because he realized what he was doing. And that didn’t make me feel very good.

The past week was busy with work, and I forced it out of my head.

Or, I tried to. I can’t exactly forget about the hottest kiss of my life no matter how it ended, and given the fact that I need to communicate with his office fairly regularly since we have this project together, his name crosses my radar more often than it should.

God, why did he have to end it that way?

What a jerk.

He called me. The next day, my phone rang, and when I saw it was him, I was too mortified to answer, so I sent it to voicemail.

He didn’t try again. I guess we’ll cross paths at some point, and for now, I’m trying to put the whole stupid situation behind me. This was exactly why I knew it was a bad idea to get involved with him all along.

I get out of the car my dad ordered for us, and I make my red-carpet appearance with both my parents. I wish I had someone to bring along as my date, but I don’t.

Instead, I’m here solo, and this gorgeous ballgown is just a total waste.

It’s a silky emerald green gown with sequined shoulder straps and a slit that leaves very little to the imagination.

I had my hair and makeup done thanks to my mother, who insisted we get the works done ahead of this ball, and I feel like I’m glowing as I force a smile for the cameras along the red carpet.

This is a big event for the city, drawing huge celebrity names as well as local businesspeople that will be important connections for networking.

As I step off the red carpet and turn toward the ballroom, though, I spot him.

Madden Bradley.

He’s standing just outside the ballroom doors.

I don’t know why it never crossed my mind that he might be here tonight. Of course he should be here. It’s a gala for the same community we’re both a part of.

My chest tightens, and I feel like I can’t breathe in this dress for a second.

He hasn’t seen me yet. There’s still time to run.

He’s talking to another man who looks like him, and I wonder if he’s one of the seven Bradley siblings.

An older gentleman and a woman who has the same dark hair as Madden stride over to them, and I gather these are his parents. The older man must be my father’s nemesis, proven true when I see my father stiffen and hiss, “Bradley.”

I blow out a breath. My parents instructed me to network tonight, and I assumed I’d be talking to people who might become future clients. I didn’t brace myself for having to face my competition.

I was already uncomfortable with having to walk into a room full of strangers and try to make friends. But now I have to do it under Madden Bradley’s scrutinizing gaze?

I’m not quite sure how I’m going to get through this night, but one thing is clear.

I need a fucking drink. Stat.

I stand on my mother’s far side as we pass by the Bradley Group, and I don’t dare make eye contact with a single one of them as I pretend I’m overly interested in walking into the ballroom.

I don’t care about this ballroom. I don’t much care about this event, to be honest. I just want the ground to swallow me up. I just want to go home, slip into pajama pants, and bury myself under my covers with a good book—on my Kindle app on my phone since I still haven’t replaced my stolen Kindle.

I beeline for the bar and get a glass of wine. I should’ve opted for something stronger to hit the tipsy scale a little faster, but this is a professional event, and I suppose getting drunk is a poor choice. Besides, wine is my favorite. I only drink vodka when I want to numb or get tipsy.

I turn with my wine to find my parents again when I bump directly into a chest blocking my way.

“Nowhere to run,” he says, and his eyes positively burn down on mine. He seems…angry? “You’re stunning tonight, Kennedy. Did you do something different with your hair? And that dress…” He trails off as his eyes sweep down my form, and my body heats with each place his eyes land.

“Get out of my way,” I demand, and he chuckles.

“Not without finding out why you’re avoiding me.”

“Are you serious, Madden? You want to do this now?”

“Well, no. I wanted to do it last Friday, but you ran scared.” He nods at the bartender. “What’s on tap? ”

I move to escape him as he listens to his options, but he grabs onto my upper arm, halting me where I am. I’m not going to make a scene by ripping my arm away despite how tempted I am.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” he hisses, low enough that I’m the only one who hears his words over the loud din of gala music and chatter, and then to the bartender, he says with a much friendlier tone, “I’ll try the Goose Island.”

The bartender fulfills the request, and he drops my arm once he has his drink. He turns toward me, those eyes still burning down at me. “We need to talk.”

“Not here.”

“Then where?”

I contemplate what to tell him. I’d really like to just avoid him altogether, but he’s not giving me that option.

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask.

“About why you got mad at me and ran off.”

“Because, Madden,” I practically spit at him. I lower my voice and lean in toward him so nobody overhears us. “Because you gave me the hottest kiss of my life and abruptly ended it like it was all some big mistake to you.”

His jaw slackens. “Is that what you think?”

“It’s what I know,” I hiss. “Now if you’ll excuse me.” I move to walk away, but his words stop me.

“The car was there.”

I turn around. “Huh?” I ask rather dumbly.

“The car was there, Kennedy. My phone buzzed to let me know, and maybe you’ve never taken an Uber, but if you don’t get into the car, they drive away. I didn’t end the kiss because of regret. The only regret I felt was that I had to end it.”

It’s my turn for a slackened jaw. “You…you don’t regret it?”

He shakes his head as his eyes gleam at me. “Far from it. I was going to invite you back to my place, but you ran. Hatefully, might I add.”

I clear my throat as I feel the heat creep into my cheeks. Oh, God. Now I’m mortified for a completely different reason .

Why does this man keep doing this to me?

I want him, but I still kind of hate him. And I’m supposed to be staying far away from him, not allowing myself to give in to his brand of temptation.

Yet, I find myself wanting another taste. I want to experience the feel of his heat as his body presses to mine. I want to feel his fingertips digging into my hip, his big hand sliding around my neck. Sliding into my panties. Sliding against my nipple.

Oh, God. He’s staring at me. He just told me he was going to invite me back to his place that night.

I don’t know what to say to him. I tip my glass to my lips to give myself something to do while I try to come up with something to say, and instead of drafting up a witty reply, my glass is empty and I need more wine.

I turn back to the bartender. “Another white wine,” I say, and he nods. He fills a glass and passes it over to me, and I turn back toward Madden, who’s smirking.

“Tell me that’s for my benefit,” he murmurs, and somehow that low voice of his seems to have this line directly to my vagina.

I hold up my glass without a word, and thankfully some man I don’t recognize sidles up beside Madden.

“Madden Bradley, how the hell are ya?” the guy asks, and the two shake hands like they’re old buddies.

I take the opportunity to slip away.

It’s a bold reminder.

I can’t do this with him. Not here, not tonight. Not at all.

I’m supposed to be networking, not letting the competition soak my panties with mere words.

Dammit.

I hate the hold this guy has on me. We hardly know each other, yet it feels like every moment we’ve spent together has brought us closer together. And every moment that’s brought us closer has me seeing him in a different light.

I keep pushing this narrative that he’s my enemy, but maybe he isn’t .

Or maybe he is, and some hate sex would get him out of my head.

I’m still not totally sure I can trust him, but it’s not exactly like he’s proven I can’t. What if I just…let go of whatever is holding me back and give this an actual chance?

Would that really be so bad?

Dinner hasn’t been served yet. Cocktail hour is meant for networking, so I force my feet to move. I approach a woman I recognize as one of the hosts of tonight’s event, and I start chatting her up about what a lovely event this is.

Eventually I lead the conversation to business only to find out she’s already working with Bradley Group but is happy to keep VBC in mind.

Right.

And so the evening goes. Bradley Group is the clear dominator in this industry.

I knew they were big, but I think my dad downplayed just how big.

They’ve got their hand in nearly everything in this city and the surrounding metropolitan area, and it’s actually quite surprising that Simon from SCS awarded us even a fraction of his project.

My mind is racing as to why that might be, and I remember my dad saying something about Thomas’s connections.

For the briefest moment, I wonder if there’s a way for me to access those connections for VBC’s benefit. That’s not really my style, though.

I’m talking to one of VBC’s current clients about their experience with our company so far when I feel his gaze on me from across the room.

I glance up, and sure enough, he’s having a conversation with someone, too, but his eyes are burning into me. Branding me.

From across the room.

I continue the conversation, my eyes not leaving Madden’s, lingering there a little longer than they should. He glances away first, and I turn my attention back to the client.

It’s not the only time that happens .

I don’t get the chance to talk to him again before dinner, and I’m not sure whether to be grateful or disappointed in that fact. During dinner, he’s at the table beside mine on the far side. We’re facing each other, and his heated gaze meets and holds mine more times than I can count.

It feels like foreplay.

I’m so damn hot for him that I’m worried I’m leaving a wet spot on my dress. I knew I should’ve opted for black material.

After dinner, I excuse myself. I need a minute to collect myself. I need a minute away from his eyes. His scrutiny. Him.

But I can’t escape him. I should’ve known better.

He’s right behind me. “Walk to the far end of the hallway. There’s a set of restrooms down there nobody’s using.”

I don’t know why I listen to him, but I do.

I also don’t know why he knows this information. Maybe because he’s already been in there with someone else.

I wander down the hallway with other ballrooms, all the way to the furthest end away from our ballroom.

These are vacant. Quiet. It’s a Saturday night, and it’s sort of surprising they’re empty.

Maybe since the gala is taking up several ballrooms on the other end, they couldn’t rent these out tonight.

I spot the ladies’ room, and I walk in. He’s right. There’s nobody down here. In fact, the lights seem to sense my presence as they flick on, and I glance around the room as my heart pounds so loudly I think Madden might be able to hear it.

These aren’t usual bathrooms with just sinks and stalls. There’s a small lounge in the front with a fancy, ornate couch on one end. Maybe it’s for nursing mothers, or maybe for an elderly grandmother waiting for someone. Or maybe it’s for something else entirely.

On the other end is a long counter with a mirror above it.

This might be where a bride comes to fix her hair or where an entire bridal party gathers to do their makeup.

Little stools are pushed in beneath the counter as if the room has been recently cleaned and is just waiting for the next party to come along.

It’s there where I stand when I see the door open in the reflection of the mirror. I draw in a shuddering breath as Madden Bradley walks into the lounge. He flips the lock I hadn’t even noticed, securing us into privacy. For what, I’m not sure yet. But I’m trembling as I wait to find out.