Chapter 19
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Mack's morning had started like most others—black coffee, back-to-back meetings, and a boardroom full of people talking too much and saying too little.
But beneath the surface of his usual efficiency, his thoughts were elsewhere.More specifically: with her.
Viola.
The woman who challenged him, teased him, and haunted him in a way no one ever had.Every time his phone buzzed, he wanted it to be her.Every pause in the day, he replayed last night's heat—her pressed against him on the dancefloor, her breathy moan when he pulled her close, and the way she said "Goodnight, Mack," like it cost her something not to stay.
He hadn't slept. Not really. Just lay there, hard and frustrated, the scent of her skin still stuck to his shirt.
By ten a.m., he was in his office, tie loosened, sleeves rolled up, leaning against his desk with one hand braced on the polished surface, the other resting near the Glock 19 holstered at his hip. Not that he needed it today.
But the sight of Jason Turner, Viola's ex, strutting into his glass-walled office like he belonged here?
Yeah. He was glad he had it.
"Mr. Maddox," Jason said, flashing a salesman's smile, confident, polished in a way that felt… fake. "It's an honor. I've followed your company for years."
Mack didn't shake his hand.
Instead, he leaned back slightly, the weight of the weapon a quiet reminder that he could end this man's entire existence with a twitch.
"You're Turner from Vantrex Consulting?" Mack asked flatly, eyes scanning the folder his assistant left.
Jason chuckled, trying to charm. "I am. I'll be presenting a modular contract system we've developed for corporate security. Streamlined, efficient—"
"I'm familiar with your modules," Mack interrupted coolly, his voice razor-sharp. "They're derivative. Two steps behind the last patent we filed."
Jason stiffened.
Mack's lips curled. Gotcha.
"Wouldn't waste my time," Mack added, turning to pour himself another coffee, "but I'm in a generous mood."
Jason cleared his throat, clearly rattled, but pressed forward. "The system is scalable, adaptive. I believe it could strengthen your current infrastructure."
Mack faced him again, slow and deliberate. "Is that so?"
He crossed his arms, muscles flexing, the edge of his gun just visible under his shirt. His tone dipped into something colder."I assume you're the same Jason Turner who dated Viola Grey?"
Jason faltered for the first time.
"Yes," he said, a little too quickly. "We were… a thing."
Mack's stare hardened."You cheated on her with your executive assistant, didn't you?"
Jason blinked.
"How did you—"
"You made her feel like she wasn't enough," Mack said, cutting through the bullshit. "When she's the most brilliant, stunning, untouchable woman I've ever met."
Jason's jaw ticked. "Look, man. Whatever happened between Viola and me—"
"—Was the biggest mistake of your life."Mack's voice dropped into something feral. "And if you ever so much as look at her again like you still have a shot, I'll make sure this city forgets your name."
Jason swallowed hard. "Are you threatening me?"
"No," Mack said, smirking. "Just making sure you understand your place. Because I'm not a man who shares."
The silence was heavy.
Jason fumbled with his files. "I—um—I'll just... send the deck to your assistant."
Mack didn't respond. He simply stared as the man scurried out, holding onto the last shreds of his ego.
When the door shut behind him, Mack exhaled slowly, fists clenched.He wanted to rip something apart.How could anyone hurt her like that?Viola wasn't his—not yet. But she was under his skin, and after that?She was his, whether she knew it or not.
He reached for his phone and typed a message.
Mack:
You free for dinner tonight?I'm done playing games.
- - - - - - - - - - - -
Viola slammed her laptop shut with more force than necessary.
she muttered, flopping back into the worn couch in her tiny writing nook, rubbing her temples.
The words weren't coming.Deadlines were closing in.And her characters were being emotionally constipated assholes. Just like her real life.
A sharp knock at the front door had interrupted her third attempt at rewriting a chapter that refused to behave. The delivery guy had forgotten her coffee order again, her manuscript doc had crashed without saving, and she'd just finished snapping at Sam over text for breathing too loudly in her voice notes.
It was one of those days.
She sat in her baggy tee and boy shorts, hair in a half-falling bun, surrounded by cold coffee cups and crumpled pages, looking every bit like a creative warzone survivor.
Her phone buzzed.
MACK:
You free for dinner tonight?I'm done playing games.
Viola stared at it.
Blink. Blink.
Her thumb hovered over the keyboard.
"Oh, he's done playing games?" she muttered to herself, rolling her eyes. "What, does that mean I was playing first? The audacity. The boldness. The male."
She typed a reply.
VIOLA:
Not tonight. I'm busy unraveling the meaning of life and slowly losing my sanity.
She hit send. Smirked.
The reply came in seconds.
MACK:
I'll bring wine and distractions. You need both.
Damn him.He was right.
She did need both.But also, no.
Today was not the day to deal with Mack Maddox and his stupid hot face and the way he looked at her like she was already his. No. She needed a long bath, a cheap merlot, and to cry into a grilled cheese while rewatching Pride & Prejudice.
She tossed her phone onto the couch and stood up to pace.
Because even now, in this mood, he still made her stomach flutter.
And that was infuriating.
She stared at her reflection in the hallway mirror as she passed.
"You are not falling for a man just because he has shoulders the width of a goddamn doorframe and makes you feel like the sun when he looks at you."
Beat.
Her phone buzzed again.
MACK:
I'll be outside your place at 6:30.Wear whatever you want. I'm not taking you out to be seen. I'm taking you out because I need to see you.
Her breath hitched.
That was low.That was unfair.That was…
Hot.
She flopped face-first onto the couch and groaned into a pillow.
Sam was right. She was so screwed.