free hand. “What a lovely offer. We accept.” I felt Mad’s shoulders stiffening under my arm. Her eyes darted to my face in surprise. I ignored her, still looking at Julian. “What can we bring?”
“Maddie’s banana bread,” Katie suggested. My sister hadn’t had cake for at least five years straight, so I wasn’t sure what business she had choosing dessert. “She told us she makes a mean banana bread yesterday.”
“Shocker.” Amber rolled her eyes.
Mad’s eyes ping-ponged between everyone. She said nothing, probably channeling the majority of her energy to muster the self-control not to maim me.
As soon as we buckled up in my car, she opened her mouth. She looked like a little woodpecker. Prettily annoying and ready to give me a headache. I was certain I liked Real Maddie even less than I liked Girlfriend Maddie, who had continuously tried to please me. Unfortunately, I had to make do with Real Maddie, because my family fawned over her, and because Julian’s newest mission in life was to uncover our fake relationship.
“I’m not going.”
“Yeah, you are.”
I prided myself on being a skillful negotiator. I also knew that, logically, starting the negotiation from an aggressive, dogmatic stance would get me nowhere. However, where Madison Goldbloom was concerned, I simply couldn’t help myself. She called to the four-year-old asshole kid in me. And he came running, ready to pick a fight.
She crossed her arms over her chest. “I told you it was a one-off. No.”
“I will pay your rent. Twelve months up front.” My fingers curled over the steering wheel firmly.
“Are you deaf?”
Are you? I’m offering you free fucking rent to do something most women would sacrifice a kidney for.
I had the sense to keep this as a thought and not spit it in her face.
“Do you want a bigger apartment?” I asked, willing to bend over backward to make this happen. It wasn’t even about Dad anymore. Not fully, anyway. My father looked sufficiently convinced Madison and I were an item. I’d kill Julian if he uncovered the truth. And I meant that literally. “There’s a vacant one in my building. Three bedrooms, two baths, sick view. Doesn’t your little friend from Croquis live there? Steve?”
“Sven,” she groaned. “And he’s my boss.”
I knew who Sven was. We did business together. I just wanted to work the “friends” angle and remind her why she wanted to live next to someone she was friendly with.
“You could be neighbors. The place is ready for Daisy to compromise every piece of furniture inside it.”
And I, apparently, was ready to never get her deposit back and shell out close to 750K in total for the pleasure of taking her on another date.
“Daisy is content humping dollar store plant pots to satisfy her needs,” Madison replied sunnily, opening her little pocket mirror and applying lip gloss. I liked that she didn’t paint her face to a point where she looked like someone else. She normally put on lipstick and mascara and called it a day.
“Money? Prestige? Black & Co. shares?”
I was officially the worst negotiator in the history of the concept. If my Yale professors heard me, they would take my degree, roll it into a cone, and smack me in the ass with it. I drove slowly to prolong our negotiation. I was not above kidnapping her if that didn’t work.
She shook her head, still staring out the window. She confused and infuriated me. The dazzling simplicity of her—of not doing something just because it didn’t feel right—was both refreshing and frustrating. In my experience, everyone had a price, and they were quick to name it. Not this chick, apparently.
“What would it take?” I grumbled, trying another tactic. The ball was in her court. I hated her court. I wanted to buy it, pour gasoline on it, and then burn it down. For the first time in my life, someone else had the upper hand. An unlikely someone else. And all because my idiotic brother-cousin (what was he to me, anyway?) had a hard-on for seeing me fail. Everyone else in the family ate up our romance and asked for a second serving. Katie had even prodded me about who was planning Mad’s bachelorette party. She wanted to take her future fake sister-in-law to Saint Barts, for fuck’s sake.
The worst part was that Julian was barking up the wrong tree. I didn’t give a crap about the CEO throne. I mean, I did, but I also knew my place as Dad’s successor was secured. For the