/Zane's POV/
"Yes, Aunt Marie," I answered the distant call of my long-time housekeeper, regaining my breath that had seized the moment the fear of Madison being discovered set in.
"Ayanna is here," she announced, her voice loud enough to ring through the entire house.
"I'll be with you in a minute," I matched her pitch before turning to face Madison, who stood perfectly still—frozen like a deer caught in headlights.
"Sorry," I whispered, removing my hands from her face while battling the lingering warmth that clung stubbornly to my skin. I'd never seen her up close before.
Her lashes were ridiculously long, and that tiny mole beside her left brow—Allison doesn't have that. I guess there are differences after all, I thought right before my gaze drifted to her peach-coloured lips, her lower lip fuller than the upper—a tad different from Allison's pink lips, which were probably a cosmetic achievement. I wouldn't know.
Not that it ever mattered.
My pulse raced as a sharp scent of spirit, lime, and the sweetness of gin prickled my nose beneath all that soft waft of beauty products I'd known with Allison.
I'd practically dumped all of Allison's stuff in the guest room to make her feel comfortable, and while she now carried traces of Allison's scent, there was something distinct—something uniquely hers. Sweet, tempting. It lingered at the back of my tongue, and for a second, I had the insane urge to lean closer just to breathe it in.
"Zane," Her soft whisper snapped me out of the daze right before I could embarrass myself further.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I pulled back, painfully aware of the closeness I'd created—even if it wasn't all that uncomfortable for me, I could guess it was for her, judging by her prickled expression.
Leaning back in, I whispered, "I'll have your food brought up to your room," convincing myself it wasn't just to catch another whiff of that scent I'd picked.
Working in a company filled with celebrities, models, and actors, my nose has picked up so many different perfumes I could probably pass as a perfumer at this point, but I've never picked up a scent like hers.
Does it have to do with her working at a bar?
I didn't have the chance to ask before Madison awkwardly walked out of my space and ahead, my eyes trailing her until she quietly disappeared behind her door, closing it silently as if afraid it'd announce her presence.
I've really got to stop landing us in any more awkward situations, I thought as the vivid image I'd tried so hard to erase from my mind resurfaced.
I groaned, as shame twisted in my gut. I shouldn't be thinking about that.
I'd barely given it any thought when I woke up since I was too starved to think.
It wasn't until I'd finished my meal of bacon, eggs, and toast that it dawned on me Madison wasn't out for breakfast yet. She might not be a lunch person, but she looked like the type not to joke with breakfast, so her absence gnawed at me.
She'll probably come out later, I thought, disregarding her absence at the table to work. Since I'd left Noah with instructions on how to handle Allison's news before I left work the previous day, I knew going to work wasn't an option for me today.
I used the opportunity to start the second phase of my plan, which included blending Madison into her role as Allison properly. Knowing she wasn't confident about pulling it off, I came up with a contingency plan.
And that's where Ayanna comes in.
"What are you doing standing there and staring into space?" Ayanna's Black American accent sliced right into my thoughts. I tore my eyes away from Madison's door and turned to face my childhood friend.
We'd grown up as neighbours before my parents died. Same school up to middle school, until I was withdrawn after their deaths. I didn't expect to see her again in college, but fate had other plans, we've kept in touch ever since.
Ayanna is a professional stylist and works for my company. While she'd studied business in the UK, she eventually went off to Paris to study fashion without her parents' knowledge, but we never lost contact.
It was technically beneath her pay grade to manage a celebrity, but there was no one better suited for it.
"I can't believe you dragged me here, fought through a mob of reporters at your gate—just to stand in your damn hallway like a lost sheep," she complained, frowning. She tried to mask her annoyance with a nonchalant shrug, but failed miserably.
She's probably just upset that I'm pushing through with this plan anyway.
"Hi. It's good to see you too," I said dryly, flashing her a lopsided grin. She rewarded me with an unimpressed glare.
"Where is she anyway?" Ayanna asked, spinning on her heel as she sauntered into the kitchen, immediately helping herself to the food Aunt Marie lay out before she called it a day.
"Can you not touch that?" I warned, snatching the tray from her just as she popped another one of the grapes decorating Madison's pancakes into her mouth.
"What? I thought these were for me," she said, feigning confusion. Her teasing grin appeared, half-hidden beneath the heavy curls spilling across her face. "Look at you, taking care of your sister-in-law. How cute."
My brows twitched.
"What's that look for?" Curiosity sparked in her eyes. Honestly, I still think Aya would have made a terrifyingly good reporter with the way she sniffs out details like a police dog sniffs for drugs.
"Technically, she hasn't become my sister-in-law just yet," I corrected curtly, walking away before I made sense of the blank look on Aya's face and disappeared down the hallway to the guest wing.
Strangely, facing Madison again makes me nervous. Maybe it was the guilt from walking in on her half-naked. Or maybe it was because I'd accused her—at least in my head—of stealing Allison's phone.
Not entirely my fault, though. Her last message to Allison before vanishing two years ago had been: Don't ever call me again. I might really kill you if you do.
That was kinda hard to ignore.
Still, after watching her these past few days, I was starting to believe she had nothing to do with the stabbing or the missing phone. No murderer would work this hard to solve their own crime.
When Madison didn't come out for dinner until past noon, fear and worry led me to her door. I knocked a few times, trying to avoid putting us back in that awkward situation, but I had to walk in when no response came from her.
What if the intruder had gotten to her? I recalled the panic I felt as I rushed in, only to find her head tucked beautifully on the desk with Allison's interview still running on her tablet.
For a moment, something in me eased. She looked… peaceful. For the first time since she'd come here, the usual guarded edge in her face was gone.
I'm guessing she also didn't trust me much, but this time was different. There was no tension in her expression—she finally slept like a person would in their own home.
She looked surprised when she pulled the door to see me standing there.
"I brought your meal," I said, setting the tray down on the small table near the armchair facing the floor-length windows draped in dark blue curtains.
"Um, thanks. I wasn't expecting you to show up so soon." She paused just as I realised she was in a bathrobe—fastened tight, of course, but still enough to to send my imagination running. "Sorry, I thought I'd take a bath before your guest left."
"No, it's fine. I understand." I cut in sharply. There's no way I'm letting any awkwardness return between us. "I'm sorry about… what happened that day. I felt like I should apologise again, also—"
I was cut off by Aya falling into the room, a result of eavesdropping on a door that's barely even closed.
I let out an exasperated sigh, turning back to give Aya a look that spelled my irritation perfectly.
"Okay, fine. I was wrong," she said quickly. "I was just curious." Her tone was apologetic, but the glint in her eyes said otherwise.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"I'm really sorry about this, Maddy." I relieved Maddy of her tension, realising the look on her face meant panic. "This is… Ayanna Brown—Aya for short. She's the friend I talked about. She knows about Allison and me, and I've already discussed the situation with her beforehand," I explained.
I watched relief seep into her expression, replacing her frown lines with a smile.
Exhaling softly, Madison threw a hand forward to Aya for a handshake. "Hi, I'm Madison—Maddy for short. I'm Allison's second sister." She grinned, but Aya hesitated before taking her hand. "It's nice to meet you."
"Why are you doing this?" Aya demanded, her expression blank before Maddy regained her hand.
"Aya," I called in a warning tone.
"I mean, I don't get it," Aya continued, ignoring me. "I heard you said you didn't want anything, but it's really hard to trust people without motives. So why? What do you want?" Aya queried further, and rather than being flustered or surprised, Madison's expression mirrored Aya's—blank and unreadable, as if the two couldn't bear to give anything away.
I wanted to stop them but I didn't maybe because, deep down, I wanted to know too.
Madison's motive for going so far had never really mattered to me in the first place, as long as I could use her, but I found myself unable to resist the urge to know her thoughts.
Just what is she thinking?
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