/Madison's POV/
"I guess Zane's back to sleeping in his office again," Anya commented as she helped brush and smooth my hair.
While I wasn't expecting her at all, Anya suddenly came to tell me I'd be preparing for an interview with a reporter who's a friend and in good standing with Zane's company.
And, against my better judgement, they intend to bring her to Zane's place for the interview—in my room, to be precise.
According to Anya, the reporter might be an acquaintance, but she's very true to her job, and that makes her a good reporter. What they all didn't know, however, is that it also makes her a variable unaccounted for.
Normally, Zane would be the one to give me the news and prep me for sudden plans involving Allison.
His plan was moving, though slowly — slowly exposing me back to the public as Allison would put attention back on me and flush out the people after her.
If it's about something she knows, or something she witnessed, it'll make them anxious, forcing them to strike again.
While the plan was clear, many unexpected variables have started arising with it — not all were totally unaccounted for, though.
Zane avoiding me, however, was an unexpected variable.
After our meeting downstairs—which I thought turned out pretty well, since I had more freedom to explore the house—it's been fun moving about instead of staying cooped up in the room all day.
However, I haven't seen Zane since then. He often comes in late at night only to leave early in the morning. It's happened before, but this feels more deliberate—planned, even. The timing feels too suspicious to be coincidence.
He only ever eats dinner when I'm done, only ever shows up when I'm not around, and when we do coincidentally meet in the living room, I barely get a greeting out before he disappears back into his room like he can't stand the sight of me.
I can only imagine how tedious that must be for him, since he hasn't shown up in my room at night either.
I hate that I was expecting him. Even though I've grown used to keeping my door locked, last night I intentionally left it open hoping he'd show up. I felt ashamed waking up to see that nothing had changed.
What am I even thinking? This is supposed to be a good thing—knowing he's no longer coming at me and confusing me, mistaking me for my dead sister. It should be a good thing, and yet I couldn't shake off my growing longing for him.
Him desiring me was always uncomfortable, yet I found myself craving it. I hate to admit it, but I liked the way he wanted me.
"Maddy? You listening?" Anya's voice broke into my thoughts.
"Yeah… I think," I replied apathetically. I sounded a lot more disinterested in her teachings today than I intended.
"Is something bothering you? You're a little distracted today," Anya pointed out, and I sighed softly.
"Sorry," I muttered, but even my apology came out lifeless.
"Look, Maddy." She moved from behind the dressing chair where I sat as she gently handled my hair, then walked over to the bed across from it, making me turn to give her my attention. "This might sound fake, but I really do care about you, and I appreciate what you're doing here. Honestly, I'm not sure I'd have the courage to pull this off if I were in your shoes." She inhaled sharply. "But if this starts getting overwhelming, I want you to know—"
"Anya, I'm good, really. I'm just a little out of it today. I'll be fine after some rest… I promise," I insisted.
"Okay." She shot to her feet. "If you insist. Also… I know we haven't known each other that long, and we didn't exactly start on the wrong foot, but I hope you know you can talk to me if something's bothering you. I'm really here to help."
"Thanks for the offer, Anya, but I'm good, thanks. I'll just get some rest and go over this again tomorrow." I forced her a smile as she walked over to the armchair to grab her bag.
What am I even doing? This wasn't what I came here for, I thought, just after Anya disappeared through the door.
Getting attracted to Zane wasn't part of the plan—another variable I didn't account for—and while I thought it was negligible, it's starting to become more of a nuisance than I'd expected.
So what if he's tall and smoking hot? I have no intention of being controlled by my fucking downstairs parts.
I rose from my bed and decided to slip out, but sitting in front of the mirror, I almost couldn't recognise myself.
If my hair were any longer, I'd be convinced I was facing my sister—the same beautiful, elegant woman I'd stood in front of before she was murdered in cold blood.
The memory made my teeth clench, and once again I reminded myself that's what I'm here for.
Putting on some smoky makeup and a fake piercing, I draped a hoodie over my head and left the house.
I was ready to reorganise my thoughts and get my head back in the game. I couldn't think of a more perfect way to do that than by exhausting that pent-up energy somewhere else.
Sitting quietly in the corner of a downtown bar—an establishment I was sure was linked to Kim—my eyes surveyed the crowd, hoping I'd find anyone that appealed to my interests.
Most of the dudes hanging around were built like twigs, ready to snap. They reminded me of Zane's body—the feel of him against those clothes was enough to have me dripping for him, and we've barely been skin to skin yet. He was such a tease. He would kiss and touch me in places he knew lit me up but not enough to keep the fire going until the end.
The end of every session with him was torturous, leaving an aching need in its wake, yet I could never bring myself to push for more.
I guess I'm still afraid to cross that final line. I found myself stuck in a loop of craving him but not strong enough to see it through to the end.
I groaned at the realisation that I was thinking of him yet again. My eyes did a sweep of the room, hoping to find someone quickly—the idea of getting Zane out of my head felt more appealing now.
But despite the full house, no one caught my eye just yet. The better ones looked bigger than their life problems; the worse were matched with plain faces.
I ordered a martini while my eyes continued to survey the crowd, then they caught someone in a quiet corner.
He looked busy with his phone, so it definitely wasn't his face that caught my attention.
Was it the way he twirled his drink absentmindedly, or that expensive Rolex strapped to his wrist that reminded me of Zane?
He had the exact same one, but that wasn't what had me walking up to him. Even with the jacket he had over the turtleneck sweater, I could tell he's got a nice body — maybe not as good as Zane's, but close to my ideal type, and that was enough for me.
"Hello." My voice cut into the silence of his haven, and he glanced up immediately. A few locks from his slicked champagne-gold hair slipped over his face as he raised his head, bearing a striking contrast to his deep brown eyes that almost appeared black.
At first, I sensed panic in his expression, which quickly faded when he saw my smile. "D'you mind?" I asked as I took a seat opposite him before he had the chance to respond, his eyes warily following me.
His woody cologne greeted me as I adjusted in my seat, placing my drink in front of me while his eyes stayed glued to me.
"Do I know you?" I was taken aback by the huskiness of his voice—deep, in fact deeper than Zane's, which to me isn't necessarily a bad thing.
"No, you don't, but you're about to," I gave him a wry smile. "You waiting for someone?" I asked, wanting to ensure I hadn't just shot myself in the foot.
"Not really." His brows furrowed.
"That's vague," I pointed out with an arched brow.
"Why d'you wanna know?" The suspicion in his eyes flared but quickly disappeared after my response.
"So I'll know whether or not to reconsider hitting on you. I don't do married men—or ones in relationships," I made clear, and he blinked.
The suspicion in his eyes quickly morphed into disbelief. He let out a chuckle, twirling his drink again before raising his glass to his lips as if to hide his growing smile.
Yep, it's definitely the way he moves that glass—there's something strangely sexy about it.
"Why would a beautiful woman like you even be here?" he finally asked, almost like he'd finished contemplating my subtle demand.
I was about to say something else when my eyes caught a familiar shadow darkening the entrance. Normally, I wouldn't care—I was in disguise, anyway—but this one was hard to ignore.
"What the hell is Zane doing here?" I mumbled.
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