Well, that and the fact that she refused to sleep in the main house filled with people she didn’t know.
“And that blond hunk has a name.”
Madison flashed a smile and shrugged her shoulders, a move that produced another wince, which she shook off, so damn reluctant to show a moment of vulnerability. Not that I blamed her.
“It’s all right, I’ve dated a few guys who were just slumming it.”
I whirled around in my chair to stare at her, shock written all over my face.
“First of all, no girl is slumming it with Terry.” He was all man and had done well for himself. “But second, how old are you to have dated a few guys?”
Madison flashed her straight smile, chin notched in up an expression that closely resembled pride.
“Twenty. I’m small for my age, but the old dude wouldn’t take my word for it, and the streets don’t require ID.”
There was that tough girl smile that did fuck all to hide the vulnerability she tried so hard to conceal.
“Damn you are small for your age.” I took in Madison’s appearance again, searching for signs I missed about her age. But she had small bones, delicate features, and weighed about one hundred and ten pounds, soaking wet.
“This is what growing up poor and eating what and whenever you can gets you, rich girl.” I flipped Madison the bird and she laughed. “Here’s my ID if you don’t believe me.”
I waved her off. “I believe you until you give me a reason not to. How are you feeling?”
“Like I got stuck with a knife, but the pills help with the pain, and the wound is clean, so thanks.” She shrugged and looked away, seemingly uncomfortable with emotions like gratitude.
“No problem. I’m just glad we found you in time.”
“Me too. My Spanish isn’t all that good.” Her words were glib, but there was relief in her tone and the set of her shoulders.
“So, Madison, are you happy on the streets or do you want to work?”
She was more than old enough to work, earn a living so she could support herself eventually.
Her smile dissolved, replaced with a frown as she folded her arms defensively. “I don’t—”
“—Need charity,” I finished for her with a laugh. “I know and I’m not offering you charity. I’m offering you a job. You do know the difference, don’t you?”
“Yeah, I’m not stupid.”
“Didn’t think you were but that chip on your shoulder might affect your ability to think clearly. If you want to work, I’ll find something for you to do while we track down your sister. What can you do?”
“Whatever shit job exists, I’ve done it. Cleaned houses and bathrooms. Flipped burgers. I was even a valet for about two weeks. I’m good at math and I can type really fast.”
I wrote down everything she said and sent an email to my assistant.
“By the time you’re healed enough to work, we should have a few options for you.”
“You and that blond hunk, Terry?” she asked and waggled her eyebrows.
“No, my assistant.”
But her eyes brought a smile to my face as I remembered how hard, how turned on Terry had been on that balcony, and it was all because of me. But that was just a fleeting thought. Jasper would kill us both.
A knock sounded on the door and Madison gasped, but her shoulders immediately relaxed when Sadie walked in carrying four oversized shopping bags. “Good morning girls.”
“Mornin’, Ma. What did you bring me?” I flashed a teasing smile when she rolled her eyes.
“These are for Madison.” She dropped the bags at Madison’s feet, smirking when our guest looked at them like they were toxic waste.
“Kat you need to go into the office. No one has seen Ravager since the fight and rumors are swirling. You need to deal with it.”
Of course, I did. “I thought this was Jasper’s deal?”
“It is, but he’s doing something else right now.” Something more important, which meant this job managing House of Ashby was mine for the foreseeable future.
“Shit. Yeah. All right.” I stood reluctantly and made my way to the bathroom with a grunt. Was it just a few minutes ago I thought how nice it was to work without heels or makeup? Thirty minutes later I had my work bag in one hand, phone and coffee in the other as I said goodbye to Madison and strolled out of the guest house toward my car and came up short.
“Terry. What are you doing here?” He looked irresistible in jeans, a t-shirt