Chapter 7

7

Madeline

Ethan Black might not have gone searching for wealth, but the man sure as heck found it. I mean, he was born into it, but based on his condo, I think he's done a good job of amassing his own money.

His condo is jaw dropping. And that's saying something because I've lived with Tucker and he loves to splash his cash all over the place. Ethan lives in a tower in Brooklyn Heights. His condo takes up the top two floors and has insane views of New York Harbor, Manhattan, and the East River. The attention to detail is amazing. He gave me a quick tour when we arrived here last night and while I prefer a white and airy style, I can appreciate the sleekness of the darker tones he's chosen. The black and gray throughout, along with the minimalism, fits in with the sense I've gotten of him. Ethan strikes me as a man who is very comfortable in his masculinity and not fussy in any area of his life. I think he's a guy who likes to get to the point and get there fast.

I slept better last night than I have all year and while I could put that down to the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in, I know that's not the reason.

I feel free.

Sure, that freedom is actually a state of utter disorder, but still, I can breathe now and that's not something I've been able to say for a very long time.

After we arrived at the condo last night, Ethan gave me a tour and then Leigh arrived with my belongings. Ethan gave us space to talk and she relayed to me just how much shit I'm in.

Darren is on the warpath. Not surprising to me. Tucker too. Again, no surprise. What was a surprise is that Leigh knew Tucker was cheating on me, as did, according to her, most of the people we work with.

She strode into Ethan's condo last night with a plan for how we're going to tackle this. Leigh already disliked Tucker and hated Darren as much as I do, but I've never seen her as passionate as she was last night. I imagine she's probably like that with her friends and all I can think is that I wish I had a friend like Leigh. Perhaps I wouldn't be in this mess if I did.

She handed me a new phone, already programed with the numbers I need. Then came my suitcase, a list of properties for sale in Nashville that she thinks I should look at to find my new home, and a list of potential new managers. As I glanced at her lists, she told me I should also find a new lawyer. "Actually," she'd said with a whole lot of certainty that helped me feel okay about my actions, "you need a whole new team, Maddie. Tucker has really fucked you over by getting you to sign on with his people. I swear they've screwed you over with your percentages. And I'm not even a little bit sorry if I'm talking out of line here. I think you need someone in your life who will give you the hard facts."

She was right.

They have screwed me over.

And I've known that for a long time but I've been buried under my gratitude for being "rescued" by Tucker that I've done my best to ignore it all. Besides, I'd planned on being his wife and spending my life with him, so I didn't think it mattered in the scheme of things.

Oh, how dumb I've been.

I've undervalued myself for too long.

"I know," I'd admitted and smiled at her wide-eyed shock.

"Well, why the fuck were you still with them?" she'd demanded.

We'd talked for an hour or so after that and I told her I was done with being taken advantage of. I also admitted that I had no idea what my next move was. She left with everything hanging in the air. And while I know she felt apprehensive about not having a solid plan, because if there's one thing Leigh and I have always had it's a plan, I also know she has great trust in me and my ability.

"Everything's going to work out," I whisper to myself as I stare at the river through the window of the bedroom Ethan let me stay in. "I'm going to figure this out and everything's going to be okay."

I'm still pep talking myself as I go in search of coffee. Pep talks and me go way back. My entire life has been one long internal motivational speech and I don't see that changing anytime soon.

"Morning," Ethan says when I walk into the kitchen.

I glance up from my phone where I've been scrolling the news posted about my wedding and come face to face with bare skin and muscles that render me brainless.

I come to an abrupt stop.

Ethan's shirtless and if I die today, I'll die knowing I've seen the kind of muscles every woman should have the pleasure of seeing up close at least once in her life.

It's because I'm suddenly without a brain that I allow my eyes to spend all the time in the world making their way down the chiseled ridges of his chest, his abs (seriously, how many abs can a person actually have?), and down to the hypnotizing V that—

Ethan's low rumble cuts into my thoughts. "We're gonna find ourselves in a world of trouble if you keep looking at me the way you are."

My eyes snap to his. "Sorry." Honestly, where is my brain? And how can a man just steal it away like that? And also, why has no man ever managed to do this to my brain?

Before I have time to circle the rabbit hole of why my fiancé never came close to causing this state of bewilderment, Ethan's mouth shifts into a lazy smile and he says, "Don't be sorry."

I truly am a bad person. This time yesterday, I was preparing to put a wedding dress on so I could marry Tucker. Today, I'm wondering what Ethan's abs would feel like.

I decide to ignore everything that's just happened, along with the fact a half-naked man is looking at me like he's also wondering what it would feel like for me to touch his abs. Instead, I say, "I'd kill for coffee."

Ethan continues smiling at me, and goodness if it isn't one of the sexiest smiles I've ever been treated to. "Are you hungry too? I was just about to make an omelet."

"No, I don't want you to go to any trouble. I'll take a coffee and then I'll get out of your hair."

He studies me for a long moment. "Does this come from your ex or did someone else fuck you over before him?"

I frown. "This?"

He rests his hip against the countertop and I wish I was not aware of that because keeping my eyes off that hip and all the skin surrounding it is a real struggle right now. "Thinking that someone making you breakfast is putting them out."

I really have never met anyone like Ethan. "You just cut to the chase, don't you?"

His eyes now hold mine without effort. "Life's too short not to. It's also too short not to let people do things for you when they want to."

"This doesn't come from Tucker." At Ethan's silence that says he's waiting for further information, I elaborate. "It was just me and Mom for most of my life, looking after each other. For a little while, it was just me looking after the both of us. And then, it was me on my own before Tucker." I swallow down my rising emotions. "I guess I just got used to looking after myself."

"Even while you were with him?"

I nod.

"Fuck," he curses softly. Then, he lifts his chin at the stool on my side of the island and says, "Sit your ass down and let me make you breakfast."

I arch my brows. "Are you always this bossy?"

"Only when it's called for."

I've spent three years with a man who pretty much was the boss of me. Allowing a man to boss me into anything is something I've decided I won't ever do again. However, Ethan's style of bossy feels a whole lot different and I find myself pulling out the stool.

He moves into action, taking all those abs of his and that deep V of his to the fridge to gather ingredients for our omelets. It's at this point that I realize he's wearing the holy-mother-of-quads gym shorts of gym shorts. Before I can censor myself, I blurt, "Do you spend entire days in the gym?" Surely, he must, to have the body I'm staring at. "And do you often wear shorts like ...like that?"

He looks at me with amusement. His gaze follows mine down to his shorts. "This is a problem for you?"

"This would be a problem for any woman who's into men."

Ethan chuckles. "It was leg day."

I blink rapidly because my eyes can't figure out where to look. It's as if they're having a seizure right alongside the dilemma of what to do. Seriously, his shorts sit halfway up his quads and stretch over him like a second skin. They're not a problem as such, but blatant ogling seems rude.

I stare at him. "You say that like it explains everything." I drop my gaze again. Yes, my descent into very loose morals is almost complete. "Those shorts are so fitted. And so...short."

As I continue to dig the hole I should consider burying myself in, Ethan turns serious, watching me like he's figuring something out. "I'll change."

Once I'm alone, I chastise myself. Only I could make a scene like the one I just made. And this is on Tucker.

I've spent the last three years suppressing my sexuality to be the perfect sweet country girl that he and Darren decided was right for our couple image. It started after the first time Tucker and I were photographed together in public. I was wearing a very demure dress that covered a great deal of skin. It wasn't on purpose, but Tucker's fans were intrigued because his image had always been very sexual and he'd never dated a woman who presented as sweet as that outfit made me look.

I've also spent the last three years watching everything I say and do with other men. Tucker had particular expectations of my behavior while I was in public. "For our brand, babe," he always said. He reminded me repeatedly that even a casual wink at another guy could cause us a scandal. Three years of those expectations has me all fucked up. Don't smile too brightly. Don't speak too much. Don't flick my hair in a sexy way. And for the love of God, don't fucking wink.

The thing about denying parts of yourself is that over time you either forget or get confused about who you are. I've forgotten what it's like to engage with a man. Or maybe I've forgotten how to engage with a man.

When Ethan returns, dressed in jeans and a black T-shirt, he doesn't mention what happened. He simply carries on with making breakfast, which I'm grateful for.

"So, what's the plan today?" he asks while chopping omelet ingredients like he's a highly skilled chef.

I glance at the knife he's good with. "Do you cook a lot?"

"Yeah. I find it distracting in a useful way."

"Maybe I should take it up."

"You don't cook much?"

"Never. At least not since I moved in with Tucker. Before that, yes."

"Well, it seems the timing might be right to get back in the kitchen." He meets my gaze and I read the question in those blue eyes of his. The plan for today?

"I'm going to see my mom."

Ethan's confused. "Your mom?" His confusion is warranted. I did tell him she was dead.

"She's buried in Sedona. I haven't been back to visit her in over three years. And since your advice was to go away and be by myself, that's what I'm going to do. I think a road trip sounds like a plan. I haven't driven in years and I miss it."

"I'm not sure a road trip by yourself is in your best interest. Not with all your fans out there."

He's not wrong about that. "I'm going to ask Leigh to come with me."

He doesn't appear convinced. "What about security? You should take some with you."

I release a breath and rest my elbows on the island. "I understand your point but I'm tired of always traveling with an entourage. I'm tired of schedules and checklists and rules. I just want to have some fun and live moment to moment for a little while."

He gives me a knowing look. "You want to run away for a bit."

"Yes."

"And you don't want to take your usual security guys?"

"I don't have access to my usual security."

"Why not?"

I sigh again. Mostly because I feel like an idiot. "Here's the truth of my life: I don't run very much of it. My manager does. I'd have to go through him to arrange security and he's the last person I want to talk to at the moment."

"You could outsource."

"I mean, I could, but I don't have the first clue how to do that." God, I really do feel dumb.

"I could help you."

"You could," I say slowly, trying to get a handle on what my gut's telling me. It's twisting and turning at the thought of going on a road trip with strangers.

"But you don't want to." His voice is threaded with understanding. "You need people you know around you," he adds softly.

"Yes."

"I get that," he says and everything about the way he says it, and the look on his face tells me he really does get it. "I could go with you."

I smile at the thought of Ethan trying to keep me safe. "You would attract far too much attention, especially if your entire wardrobe is made up of those hot-quad shorts. I really don't think you were put on this earth to be anyone's security."

He's amused at my shorts reference but doesn't touch it. "I'm being serious, Maddie."

"You don't even know me. Why would you give up your life to tag along on a road trip with me?"

"I love a good road trip and it would hardly be giving my life up. I can work from anywhere, and besides I'm not really working at the moment." His lips quirk. "I promise to stay fully clothed at all times and to leave the hot-quad shorts at home."

I stare at him. "See, this is how you almost ended up the father of an eight-year-old child."

"I could swear I just heard you say you wanted to have some fun. I'm your guy for that. I'll make sure we break some rules along the way."

Before I know what I'm doing, and before I can stop myself, I'm agreeing to his impulsive offer and he's immediately making plans to come with me. In my entire life, I've never acted as spontaneously and recklessly as I have over the last twenty-four hours. Running from my fiancé was one thing, but running away with another man is a whole other thing.

It can't be denied, though: I think breaking some rules with Ethan Black is exactly what I need in my life.