/Madison's POV/
"Sorry?"
Zane's question hit me like a cannonball—hard and unexpected.
"Sorry if that came out of nowhere. I just wanted to be certain before we get this plan into motion." Tension stiffened his face. "Allison isn't just an actress, she's a model with a flawless reputation, and I really want to keep that intact."
"If you think my personal life might end up fucking this up, rest assured, it won't happen." My sex life is non-existent anyway.
I did try hitting the bar a few days ago, trying to confirm something, and though I planned to return, the results had been disappointing. A boyfriend felt like a collar and leash I had no intention of putting on. Besides… after last night, I doubted I needed any more answers.
"But still—" Zane paused when my expression darkened.
I wasn't exactly trying to throw him off, but that topic was starting to make me uncomfortable.
"Just… y'know, if anyone caught your attention, could you let me know so I can implement a fail-safe?"
"So you can what—you can't possibly be planning to bury someone I plan to fuck alive, are you?" My words took him by surprise, but instead of being offended,, his face lit up with an amused smile that had my heart skipping a beat. Fuck, that smile should be illegal.
"Not exactly," he said with a lopsided grin that pulled me in a little closer despite myself. "You'll be acting as Allison—and Allison's my woman. I can't have people talking."
"Are you like that with her too?" I asked, enjoying the way his gaze raked over me, those eyes of his hypnotic—like getting lost in the maze of a deep forest.
"Like what?" His voice was low, rough, and far too enticing, sending my heart into overdrive.
After last night, I can't bring myself to stay calm around him. Holding up a straight face was the best I could manage. My defences were crumbling, and the vulnerability that came with it was annoying—the thought alone forced a frown to my face.
I hated this.
"Controlling?" The word slipped out in a moment of irritation. Possessive was more like it, but I wasn't his.
Allison might be gone, but he still belonged to her. My body tensed when I caught his gaze fixed on my lips. I swallowed as something familiar flickered to life in his eyes—the same thing that lay bare the night when his hands had roamed my body. He wasn't even asleep then, and I could tell he wanted me, but was it really me he wanted?
"I'm not controlling," he said at last, his eyes returning to mine. "I'm just being cautious."
I chuckled softly and watched that flicker in his eyes grow with intensity.
"Never met a man who admits he is," I smirked.
Always the one with the last word, huh?" His voice dipped, amused. "Your talent doesn't surprise me at all."
The temperature in the room soared. Zane was far too close for comfort, filling my air with the scent of him. Unsettling in the best way. The look in his eyes wasn't making things any better.
My nails dug into my skin as my fist tightened, my pulse quickened, my brain just barely managing to keep my heart in control.
"Zane? Maddy?" Aya's voice rang down the hall, and Zane instantly stepped back, putting some distance between us while I broke free from his spell. Snapping right back to my senses, I inhaled sharply.
"I'll talk to Aya about the plan. She'll get you all ready before Vikram's visit," Zane tone returned to business as he pulled the knob. Relief washed over me the second he stepped out.
I walked straight to the bathroom, wanting to shower and change my clothes, but my eyes accidentally caught my reflection in the mirror.
"What are you, a middle-schooler? Blushing over something like that?" I let out a frustrated sigh. "Get it together, Maddy. Nothing's changed—not even after last night." I reminded myself before stepping out of the shower and walking over to the closet to get changed.
Aya walked in. "So, we're really going all out, huh?"
I settled for a casual top and jeans, pulled my hair back into a messy bun before I finally turned to face Aya. For the first time since we'd met, I finally saw her rocking casuals as well.
Every day with her has always been a runway show—her clothes, makeup, and exaggerated style were something often seen on models. She kept saying her appearance was her brand, it's what she sells. Probably the most hateful part of this whole process would be her trying to force that routine on me.
It's exhausting.
"I thought this whole thing would be more on the subtle side—to control the flames if it backfired—but you and Zane decided to go full-blown theatre huh?" she asked, slumping into the armchair. And behind her judgmental gaze lay the question: Why did you even agree to this crazy plan?
I wonder when she'll stop blaming me for choices Zane makes. If anything, he dragged me into this mess.
"Anyway, my job is to redecorate your room to look more like, y'know, someone actually recovering from stab wounds." She pointed out, and my eyes did a full sweep of the room. Yep, it's a dead giveaway.
"It's not a big deal. It's like setting up a movie set—I've done that before," she went on. "The problem is… would you actually be able to act like someone recovering from stab wounds? The set's pointless if the actress flops. You could blow the whole thing," Aya warned.
Why act it when I can just recall the feeling?
"Don't worry about it. I can handle it," I promised.
Aya immediately got to work afterwards—but the result looked more Halloween than hospital.
"What are you doing, Aya?" I had to ask when I saw her sprinkle some fake blood across the sheets.
"Setting the scene."
I arched a brow at her response. Folding my arms, I asked, "You've never actually seen a stabbing victim, have you?"
"I know what I'm doing—just need to add the finishing touch," she said, splattering more on the headboard. I slammed my hand to my face in disbelief.
"This doesn't look like a recovery room, Aya. If anything, it looks like a murder scene," I pointed out. I know she's trying to make this seem as real as possible, but in the process, a lot of things have been exaggerated, which throws everything off balance.
"Let me handle this," I said gently.
"Fine. Let's see you do better." She stepped aside, sulking.
I stripped off the bloodied sheets. "After two weeks, a stab wound shouldn't still be bleeding, Aya. It'd be healing." She blinked, realising her mistake.
I walked over to the desk to write out some drug names and other things that we'd need.
"Here, get me these. It includes pain relief, antibiotics, antiseptic, anti-inflammatory—basically all the drugs a recovering person would need. We'll also need bandages and gauze," I instructed, catching Aya by surprise.
She might be good at everything else Zane's asked her to do for me—including makeup, knowledge of the entertainment industry, and petty little gossips I never thought I'd ever need—but this really isn't her strongest suit.
Aya left to fetch the supplies, and by the time she returned, I'd finished setting the room properly.
Aya was still talking in the whole room when I retrieved the stuff I'd asked her to get. I immediately started dressing myself.
"Could you make some porridge and bring a water bottle with a straw?" I added. "I shouldn't be taking solids at this stage."
Aya looked rather excited at this point,clearly impressed now that she could see the difference.
An hour later, everything was ready. The only thing missing was that faint, sterile scent of a recovery ward—but we decided to air the room out anyway, hoping the detective would shrug it off as proper ventilation.
"Woah, I gotta admit, I like what you've done with the place." My face heated up again as Zane announced his presence, holding his phone as he took the room in.
"I didn't do it—Maddy did," Aya said, smiling at me with unexpected pride.
"Really?" Zane turned to me, a hint of warmth in his eyes. "This is impressive. Good work, Maddy."
My pulse jumped. Get it together, Maddy.
"Thanks," I turned away, unable to hold his gaze.
"Anyway, Vik called—said he was on his way. You guys ready?" he asked. Even if the question was directed at me, I hesitated to talk.
"I'll get started on the porridge and water bottle thing," Aya declared before leaving the room, leaving me alone again with Zane.
"I forgot to ask—how do you and Allison address each other? If I'm going to act like your fiancée, I have to be aware of details like that." To be honest, I'm already aware of most things, but I have to at least act like the knowledge is foreign to me, that I didn't figure it out by other means.
"Actually, we didn't really do pet names," he said, rubbing his neck awkwardly. "I called her Allie, while she just calls me Zane."
"What about babe?" His eyes twitched.
"Have you forgotten?" I asked lightly. "I don't remember, remember? I have to act like I don't."
That wasn't the real reason but I didn't want to be referred to by my dead sister's name. Am I starting to get greedy?
"Yeah, babe's fine." He doesn't look like he's used to it though; the word sounded so foreign coming from him, but his reaction also showed how much it affected him.
"Babe." We locked gazes.
"This is a lot harder than I thought," he muttered, visibly tense.
"You'll have to get used to it, babe." I closed the distance between us, teasing. "Now, try it."
"Do we really have to?" he asked, and I nodded.
"We can't afford slip-ups," I told him, and he inhaled.
He inhaled, bracing himself. "Babe."
The word finally left his mouth, soft but steady. Something about the way it rolled naturally off his tongue this time felt personal.
Zane's eyes widened when he caught my expression.
I just messed up, didn't I?
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