TIED TO YOU

MADELINE II

I'd lost count of how many times I'd checked my watch, tapping my lap repeatedly. From the taxi's window, I could spy the house. It looked like a plaster of white wrapped around the edges of the cliff

Yet the traffic, the darn road wouldn't let me get to where I was supposed to be in time. Tired of waiting, I paid the driver and stepped onto the road, ready to brace for the few minutes' walk that were left.

Nothing is wrong, Mad. Just breathe. You're going to get there in time.

I walked into the road, the manila folder in my hand almost kissing the smooth, wet floor of some rain that mercifully ended before I left home. Cursing, I straightened the folder, my hands straightening my skirt out of habit.

He won't mind, don't worry. He's busy, but kind. He understands London; he's been here longer.

I halt, shake my head in a bid to bury my thoughts in a place that allows me to get through this meeting scheduled for 8:30 a.m—which I'm definitely going to be fifteen whole minutes late for—when the sound of screeching tyres keeps me rooted, this time with fear. When I had mastered my fear, I looked to the pavement where a black SUV has stopped, the nose almost nudging the edge of the road, headlights screaming their annoyance.

My legs stay glued to the floor before I remember where I'm standing and my destination. After all the efforts, the folder is now a dance of white on the floor. Squatting, I hurriedly pick the files, hoping to be out of the way before London decided to let go of its habit of not interfering with people. I'd seen many times what happens when London focuses his attention on you.

“Is it that you do not know how to watch the road before crossing or you are just simply blind?" a bass voice rang from behind me.

I turned, forcing on a bold face. Somewhere between my kneeling and picking up the files, my head had connected with the reality of what could have happened.

The man standing no more than ten feet away was tall, muscles threatening to burst out of his shirt from how hard he was holding the door, and had a dangerously outlined face to boot. If I wasn't late, in a bad mood, and he wasn't scowling so much his eyebrows tried to touch his low-hanging hair, I would have considered him handsome.

"Now, I'm sure she's deaf!” Can humans truly growl? I thought to myself, because I was certain that's what he just did.

I willed my eyes shut, cutting off the useless thoughts cutting through my head. Today had better go well or I was going to butcher Olivia. But for now, I had someone to channel my anger at.

“Excuse me, that's not a way to talk to a lady!”

"And who are you to tell me how to talk to anyone I talk to?"

“Charles…” a weary voice called from the other side of the now open door. Another man stood. He wasn't as tall or muscular as Hulk, but he wasn't as angry either. "We are already late for the meeting, let's go.”

“You're extremely rude, Charles,” I called out, pouring all of my anger into the name. “Learn how to talk calmly to strangers!”

“Women… so stupid,” I heard White Hulk say.

I would have gone to him. I wanted to go to him. But I had a meeting I was late for. A moment later, a black SUV sprinted past me, going towards wherever it was that I didn't want to know.

***

"And I told myself today was going to be a good day.”

A sigh escaped my lips as I walked briskly to the back gate that kept me away from where Mr. Hill and I were meant to meet.

It had golden flower designs at its tip, the tips coated with a shiny black paint that made it glisten under the bright sun.

Arranging my rumpled trousers, I took three deep breaths. Afterwards, I gave myself another one. Satisfied with what I saw, I sent a silent prayer to the heavens and knocked on the gate.

In less than five seconds, I could hear the lock on the other side of the gate being manipulated. It swung sideways and a woman stood in front of me.

“Miss Madeline Miller?” the woman asked, her tone so low, one would think we were sharing gossip. Her smile was not helping to ease my anxiety.

"Yes. Yes…that's me–"

"Come with me,” she cut in. She turned as she power-walked towards twin doors that had guards standing beside them. When we were near the house, she spoke again. "Mr Hill has been waiting for you if I must say… exactly thirty minutes before the time set." Her voice was commanding.

I wasn't a fool. I knew exactly what she was hinting at. The day had decided to be bad. The least I could do was make sure only those I gave the power to, got to make it worse.

“Oh, that is kind of him. I'm sure he won't mind my tardiness, unlike some people who feel entitled to rebuke people they do not know," I responded, making sure the bite wasn't hidden from my voice.

The woman didn't break her movement but Madeline saw her raise her eyebrows, a smirk on her lips when the woman darted a glance. “If you say so.” Eventually, she stopped moving. “Go straight from here, the third room, you will find him." And she left without sparing a glance.

“Humans,” I muttered as I continued walking to the said room. In front of the room, I gave myself a final once-over before pushing the door open.

“There she is! Miss Madeline. Welcome." Mr Hill's voice didn't hold the tiniest bit of impatience his secretary was hinting at.

He sat on a chair made of steel. His arms were long, but not as muscular as the man that almost hit me. Why was I remembering that brute? He had dark brown eyes that appeared like small openings on the face. His jaw was outlined, less broad shoulders, a flat chest, with a quite lanky body build. I returned the smile and walked towards the table that stretched out before me, praising my stomach for not growling at the sight of the food coating the table.

Did Mr. Hill forget that this was supposed to be a meeting and not a feast?

“Thank you, Mr. Hill. You're far too kind.” A practiced smile slid into my face as I sat opposite him. “I'm sorry for coming late. The traffic today was crazy, I almost got into an accident, and—”

“Madeline,” Mr. Hill said gravely. At the mention of my name without any title, all the words building on my lips died. “You worry too much. To think you almost had an accident! Did you sustain an injury?”

“Oh,” I breathed, uncertainty clawing at the edges of my face. “No. No, I'm fine, Mr.—”

“Just call me Hilary,” he cut in. One hand stretched towards mine. Pretending to lift the file I placed beside me when I took a seat, I pulled my hand before he could place what he must consider a comforting hand on me.

“Mr. Hill,” I announced, making sure he knew it was intentional, while ignoring the questioning gaze he sent my way. “This is the contract. There's a summarised version of it attached if you want to read it. You will just need to sign at the end there.” I opened to the said page, pointing so he'll know. “If you'll prefer to read the entire thing, I don't mind. I can wait.”

His gaze didn't leave my face for a long moment and I began thinking of the many things that could be out of order in my dressing. At the same instant I was certain everything was — should be — in order, he took the folder and leafed through the pages.

“These are the only things the orphanage needs?”

“Yes… that's all, Mr. Hill,” I responded after returning my gaze to him.

“I'll sign the document but I have a proposal of mine,” the slightly balding man responded, placing the folder on the table.”

Relief washed through me as I heard those words. “Which is?” I asked, cracking open a bottle of water.

Though my eyes were branded on him, the bottle was in my mouth, a heavy drag of the content going into my lungs when he spoke.

"Be one of my mistresses."

Unlike the adrenaline that was running through me when I almost died earlier, there was nothing to stop me feeling the impact this time.

I choked, spilling water on the table and my clothes. Hill closed the distance between us before I could register him leaving his seat, and was patting my back tenderly. Reflexes kicked in and I was pushing the chair back before he could come any closer to me.

As though trying to push the words out, my head shook in all directions. “Excuse me, Mr. Hill, but we're here for a business proposal, not-”

Another cough racked through me, cutting off the word that felt like bile as it rose in me. I took in another long breath, willing my body to calm.

"Oh, Madie. Don't pretend you never knew about my interest in you–"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hill. But I think you have greatly misunderstood my politeness for something… far-fetched,” I spat, my fingers curling into a fist.

He noticed it and stepped back carefully. "Madeline." He dragged my name smoothly. "I have loved you for a while–"

“If you love me like you claim to, you won't be using assisting the orphanage I'm desperately trying to keep afloat as a reason for me to be your mistress!”

It was swift. It didn't last up to a second before it left his thin face. But that glare would make even a lion flinch. A hideous smile was blooming on Baldy’s lips now.

"You don't have to accept me now. You can think about it. I'm sure you will see me in a positive light next time.”

Anger burrowed through my insides as I stalked towards the table, grabbed the files, sidestepped him, and picked up my bag—and the bottled water that wanted to kill me. Was I that bad? Two things wanting my head and it wasn't 9 a.m yet! “Goodbye, Mr. Hill.”

My near-silent feet were the only company I had as I walked out of the room, down the hallway, pointedly ignoring the sinister smile the woman dem earlier gave me, out the front door, and the black gate into the noisy streets once more.

Outside I kept walking, that old anger building and building in me. It kept rising, as though some orchestra was seeing how higher on the scale it could push.

Just when it nearer it's end, when the anger would vanish as quietly as it had come and I'd be left empty, the image of wings and a rod flashed before my eyes.

Guess I'll need to sign that application letter, I typed to Olivia as I let another heavy breath free from my lips.

I could never have guessed what the future was planning when I made that choice.