Bad Business

MADDIE

I found myself perched on a barstool in Rome’s house.

After spending four years overseas, overseeing the European branch of Ash’s multibillion-dollar empire, it felt odd.

Being back in the States.

Being in Rome’s house.

Sitting here, feeling my heart flutter in that familiar way.

The flutter that always came with this man, the one I’d tried so hard to ignore. Because that’s what I did. I only took on tasks I could control and... this man was something I could never control.

Spreadsheets. Organizing meetings. Dealing with difficult clients and frustrating manufacturing delays and even leaky roofs—those I could handle.

The complexity of relationships?

Not so much.

But that was before I started working for a Hutchins.

There was only so much a girl could do to resist being drawn into their lives. They were just so kind and welcoming and... insistent.

Insistence was a part of the Hutchins’ DNA.

“Beer?” Ro asked, the slight roughness in his voice sending a shiver down my spine.

I’d dreamt about that voice, so often that I felt the question stir something deep within me, brushing against my clit, and—

“Maddie?”

My cheeks flushed, I looked up, meeting deep brown eyes. Ro had the most amazing eyes—the color of dark chocolate with specks of gold hidden within.

They were warm too.

Like the chocolate river in Willy Wonka.

Except not a river. And not deadly.

A hot tub filled with melted chocolate... that wouldn’t kill me.

He leaned back against the island next to me, two bottles of beer in one hand, the other lifting to cup my jaw, tilting my head back so I was lost in those pools of liquid, delicious chocolate. “You okay?”

My cheeks burned. “I’m okay,” I said quickly. “Just jet lagged and a bit out of it.” I leaned back slightly, enough for him to get the hint and let go of my jaw. Which, thankfully, he did, dropping his hand and offering me one of the beers.

I accepted it. “Thanks,” I murmured, taking a sip.

A brief smile flashed across his face, but it wasn’t the deep, mischievous Rome Smile I’d come to know.

Worry immediately started to gnaw at me.

“Is it Jack?” I asked softly, the sip of beer I’d just taken suddenly feeling heavy in my stomach.

He’d been raising his bottle to his lips but my question made him freeze. “What?”

“Is something wrong with Jack?” I asked. “Is that why you look so troubled?”

He put the beer down, foam spilling over the rim, sliding down the side…and turning my worry into full-blown panic.

I jumped up, grabbed a paper towel, took the bottle, and wiped the sides. Then I bent down and cleaned up the drops that had made it to the floor. “Now,” I said quietly. “What’s happening?”

“What look on my face?” he asked, seemingly a question behind.

“The one that says you’ve been sucker-punched when you least expected it.”

He drew in a sharp breath, put the beer on the counter, and turned away from me.

Panic and a storm brewing.

I moved around him, getting close enough to study his eyes.

He didn’t make me work for it. “Jack’s okay. Physically,” he whispered. “Emotionally, though, he’s a wreck.” Ro’s head lifted and he tried to smile again, but I could tell it was forced. His next words confirmed my suspicions. “I uprooted him from everything he knew and brought him to a different country, introduced him to a new family.” Ro ran a hand through his hair, gaze going over my head. “I can’t blame him for being angry and hurt and scared, even after a year.”

Rome’s ex had vanished on him eight years ago, and he’d only found out he had a son four years ago, after she died and Jack’s custody was in question.

Because Ro’s name wasn’t on the birth certificate and the person who’d told Rome—an old friend of his and his ex-fiancée—the fight to even get a DNA test was tough, let alone getting Jack here.

To the States.

How did I know all this?

Even from my post in Europe, I’d made countless calls to lawyers and doctors and therapists, pulling strings.

I was good at getting things done.

I’d promised that Jack wouldn’t be left behind, that Rome wouldn’t be left in the dark.

And now…I wondered if that had been the right thing to do.

I’d always dreamed of having a family and the thought of a three-year-old alone in the world, without people like the Hutchinses to have his back…

It motivated me.

I’d been driven to make sure he had a place where he felt at home.

Because I knew what it was like to not have that.

“But Ash said he’s fitting right in with the family,” I whispered.

Ro’s mouth twitched. “He loves my family. Asks to spend time with them all the time.” A sigh. “It’s ~me~ that he has a problem with.”

Well…shit.

“Yeah,” he murmured, clearly reading my expression.

I pushed aside old wounds, focused on what I could do now, what I could fix now.

That was what I did.

Fix things.

“What’s going on?” I asked, handing him back his beer.

“Besides the whole being-uprooted-from-his-family thing?”

That was a big one.

But…

“Yeah,” I said.

“Ro isn’t happy with me setting a bedtime for him.” Ro took a sip of his beer, then set it back on the counter, ticking off points on his fingers. “He’s not thrilled about having to finish his homework before soccer practice. He doesn’t appreciate having to introduce me to his friends’ parents before he can hang out at their houses. He doesn’t”—Ro’s hand fell, reaching for his beer again—“like me,” he admitted with a sigh.

Damn.

This was bad.

It was really bad, and I had to figure out how to make it right.

For the little boy I’d never met face-to-face, only exchanged hellos and waves with over FaceTime. For the little boy who was innocent and deserved to understand his place in this world. For Ro, who I—

“Oh.”

I jumped, nearly spilling my beer, and turned…

To find Jack standing in the doorway.

He was the mirror image of Rome. And honestly, the world better watch out. When Jack grew up, he was going to be just as much of a heartthrob as his dad.

“You’re not Mel,” he observed, apparently not recalling my awesome FaceTime waving skills.

I guessed that was normal.

I’d perfected the art of blending into the background.

I smiled slightly. “No,” I agreed. “Sadly, I’m not nearly as cool as Mel.”

The little boy with the brown eyes flecked with gold studied me for a few long moments. Maybe checking if I was joking, assessing my sincerity.

Either way, he seemed to evaluate and find me acceptable, moving closer and asking, “Who are you, anyway?”

Ro made a noise like he was about to intervene—perhaps because it wasn’t the most polite of questions—but I figured that with things already so tense, we didn’t need to start a fight over a somewhat impolite question.

Instead, I put down my beer, jumped up, and walked over to Jack, extending my hand for him to shake. “I’m Maddie.”

His head tilted to the side, those golden-brown eyes drifting over my shoulder and growing unfocused, as if he was trying to remember my name. Then they snapped back to mine and held. “Ash’s Maddie?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“From FaceTime?”

I grinned.