Her Titans by Genevieve Jasper
Quincy
11
Madelaine seems to have cooled down a bit since our big conversation. I didn’t see her much yesterday, but she wasn’t outwardly glaring at me so I’m taking that as a positive. No doubt Atlas and Max have both apologised about the background check already and I know I should too, but I want to do it without the peanut gallery watching.
This morning gives me that chance as she needs to catch a ride into the city with me. I normally visit a bunch of our businesses on a Friday and it doesn’t make sense for Jeremy to drive Madelaine if I’m going anyway. It sounds like an excuse, even to me, but I’ll take extra time with her wherever I can get it. The guys are right, I can see how special she is, but that’s part of the issue. Even with our previous girlfriends who I hadn’t exactly been invested in, I’m always all-in. As soon as we realised what they were doing, lying about wanting to be with all of us to stay close to one, or when they chose between us, we all had our feelings and pride hurt. Mostly me. Knowing that we could all be seriously into this girl makes it so much easier for her to break us. Not that she seems to have even entertained the idea of being with more than just Atlas. Would that make things worse? Surely a woman couldn’t tear us apart.
I walk from my bedroom down towards the kitchen, hearing music from that direction. Lucy hardly makes any noise, we joke she’s like a cleaning spectre. I turn the corner into the open kitchen diner and see Madelaine and Lucy dancing around the island to an upbeat Whitney Houston song. Lucy looks as if she’s reluctant to let go and enjoy herself, but I hope she knows we wouldn’t mind it at all. Madelaine isn’t having any of it, grabbing her hands and waving their arms about as she sings along to the words. Her hips shimmy and I’m transfixed for a second on her ass shaking to the rhythm. Then she spins with her eyes closed and I see the pure joy on her face.
She’s ethereal, lost in the music and her Friday morning fun. She’s effortlessly gorgeous on a normal day, but seeing her like this makes me want to make her feel like that all the time. She’s completely herself, laughing and smiling. Carefree and light. It’s been pretty intense since she got here, but I know this is the true Madelaine. She spins Lucy away from her on her arm as if they’re ballroom dancing and Lucy lets go, freely laughing at their antics, until she catches sight of me over Madelaine’s shoulder.
“Morning, Quincy,” she says through laughter. “This one’s a bad influence! I’m way behind.”
Madelaine spins to face me as Lucy talks, caution edging her eyes and pushing the glee out slightly. I feel that hit in my gut.
“Don’t be silly, Lucy. It’s great to see you so happy. I’ll grab food on the way to work. Good morning, Madelaine.”
“Morning, Quincy,” she says, looking around for someone to save her. Lucy has shuffled off, leaving us to it.
“I’m working in the city today, so I’ll drive you in. Jeremy’s gone with Max and Atlas. If you’re ready now, we can stop for breakfast on the way?”
“Okay,” she says, tempted by food. I love that she loves food, I hate when people pick at salads.
She grabs her things and I lead her out of the house and over to my car in the garage. “No Hummer?” she asks, stroking my Audi.
“Nah, that’s pretty much Jeremy’s, or for when we’re all together.”
I drive to a pancake house. It’s ten minutes away from our place and a slight detour from the city, but I had to bring her here. It’s a favourite among us three and we used to drive here even before we lived in Ironhaven. We settle into a huge booth, a top-choice seat that you have to choose even with only two, and a server quickly comes over to take our order.
“Hey, Quinn. Long time, no see,” she greets me.
“Hey, Mandy. We’re busy men, you know that. This is Madelaine,” I offer, gesturing towards her sitting opposite me.
“Lai, please,” she replies with a smile at Mandy.
“Morning, Lai. What can I get you both?”
“I’ll have my usual with a black coffee, please,” I say, not even looking at the menu.
“I’ll have the same but with an apple juice, please,” Madelaine echoes, handing the menus back.
“It’ll be right up,” Mandy says as she leaves us to it.
We sit in comfortable silence for a minute. “Are you not going to ask what the usual is?” I say when the curiosity burns at me.
Madelaine shrugs. “I like most things. I would’ve got lost in that menu for days, I don’t do well with too many choices. As long as it’s not seafood, I’m good. Though I would have to disown you if you chose seafood for breakfast.”
I smile at that. I know it’s just a saying, but I’m happy to pretend she’s claimed me.
“Not seafood,” I promise. “I’m glad I got you alone. I wanted to apologise for the background check. It wasn’t a reflection of you, I can be a suspicious bastard at times.”
“Apology accepted,” she says lightly.
I relax, relieved. “I thought I was going to get more of a hard time than that.”
“Why? You’re apologising, just don’t doubt me again,” she says in a mock-serious voice, waving her knife at me jokingly.
“Deal. Fresh start? I swear I’m more fun than I have been.”
“Fresh start,” she grins.
At that moment Mandy brings our plates over, and Madelaine’s eyes go wide as saucers. She places a plate in front of each of us, heaped with their special. A full fried breakfast of sausages, bacon, eggs, beans, hash browns and mushrooms, with pancakes and maple syrup, and waffles with fruit and chocolate spread.
“Oh my God, I’ll be falling asleep at my desk!” she exclaims, laughing.
I laugh too. “There’s no way you’re eating all that.”
“I thought you weren’t doubting me anymore,” she says with a raised brow.
“Touché.” I catch Mandy as she goes past and ask for a side plate, moving my hash browns onto it when it arrives.
“Who’s not eating all of it now, huh? Eyes too big for your belly?”
I laugh at her fighting words. “I just don’t like them, I normally swap with one of the guys.”
“What kind of psychopath doesn’t like hash browns?! I’ll swap with you. What do you want?”
“It’s fine, it’s not an issue.”
She acts like I haven’t spoken, sliding the hash browns onto her plate. “I’m picking, then. You can have my mushrooms, I can’t stand them. Not really a fair swap, but you snooze, you lose.”
I laugh at her seriousness on the subject and feel more relaxed than I have in weeks, maybe months. Definitely worth the detour. We eat in companionable silence and my God, she finishes the lot. “Where do you put it?!”
“Well, you’re not exactly obese yourself,” she counters. “I’m sure I’ll find a way to burn it off.”
I don’t know if she meant for that to sound so suggestive, but my mind goes there immediately and I have to shift in my seat to get comfortable again. We pay the bill and leave, settling back into the car, and I drive us into the city. “Are you sleeping?” I ask when we reach her office and she’s still quiet.
“I think the medical term is a food coma,” she groans, getting out and grabbing her things from the back seat.
I laugh, doing way more of that this morning than I’ve gotten used to recently. “Send me a message when you’re done later, I can be here in ten.”
“Great, thanks! See you later.”
I’m in my second meeting of the day and paying about as much attention as I did in my first, i.e., none. The managers could’ve told me they’d been robbing the place blind for months and we’re going into bankruptcy and I would’ve nodded and smiled. I can’t stop running through breakfast with Madelaine. I’m like a teenage girl after their first date, playing it back over and over. Five o’clock seems so far away. I decide to head over there at lunchtime, knowing neither of us will want to eat anything after our mammoth breakfast, but we can still take a break and grab a coffee or something.
I suffer through my third meeting watching the clock the whole time and drive back over to Madelaine’s office around one. My car is waiting at the lights opposite when I see her leave through the front doors and jump into a taxi. I should’ve called her and said about coming, she must have other plans. I call her through Bluetooth, hoping I can squeeze in some time with her after. Maybe she’s just popping out.
“Hey,” she answers. “Everything okay?”
“Yeah, fine. Just wondering if you want to grab a coffee on your break?”
“Oh,” she says, surprised. “I’d love to but I’m swamped today. I don’t think I’m going to leave my desk, let alone take my break.” Weird.
“Okay, I’ll just pick you up later then.”
“Actually, Jason’s heading that way after work, so I’ll jump in with him. Saves you waiting around for me.” Weirder.
I follow her. I reason that Atlas would have my head if anything happened to her on the day I act as Lai’s security, but really, I’m suspicious. Why did she lie? Where is she going?
The taxi goes right out of the city and after we’ve been driving for about 45 minutes, I realise where we’re heading. The prison. I call my assistant and let him know to cancel my afternoon appointments, I’ll never make it back in time for them now. Madelaine exits the taxi and heads into the building entrance. I sit outside in my car for an hour, stewing over what’s happening.
What is she here for? For work? Surely not. More likely to visit someone. But why wouldn’t she tell any of us that? Why outright lie? Unless it’s someone we wouldn’t want her visiting. Someone against us? I’d just accepted that she was who she said she was, an innocent woman who happened to get caught up with us, and this happens. I feel so stupid, and angry. But if she’s working against us, the warnings make little sense. I can’t figure out any of it and it frustrates me. I can’t believe I was letting my guard down for this woman, swallowing her ‘don’t doubt me’ shit, for her to do what every other woman does. Betray us.
I head home, deciding that ambushing her outside a prison full of officers isn’t the best decision. Better to wait for her to come to me.
I’m sitting at the island when she walks in, having wound myself up for the past couple of hours.
“How was work?”
“Fine, thanks,” she says, walking past me to grab a drink from the fridge.
“They need many interior designers at Riverbend?” I ask facetiously.
She whips around and narrows her eyes at me. “Are you following me?”
“Why were you there, Madelaine?” My voice rises as I speak.
“None of your business.” Her flippancy infuriates me, and I jump up and grab her arm as she tries to leave.
“I should’ve trusted my instincts. I knew you were hiding shit from us,” I yell.
“Get your fucking hands off me,” she fumes, volume dangerously low.
“Do as she says, Quince.” Max’s voice comes from the doorway, deathly quiet.
I let go and she shoves against me, both of us turning to see Atlas and Max stood there. Our raised voices must’ve drawn them out of the office.
“You’re just accepting this shit as well, are you?” I direct at Max, my fury unleashed now. “She let you fuck her, too? Her pussy really must be fucking magic.”
Before I can even register he’s moving, Atlas is in front of me with his fist in my face. I stagger back, pain radiating from my cheek, and catch myself on the counter. “You don’t talk about her like that, ever,” he hisses at me.
“Everyone calm the fuck down,” Max calls.
She goes to walk off again and I step in front of her.
“You’re not going anywhere until you explain why you were there.”
“Where?” Max asks.
“Riverbend.”
“You’re such a fucking hypocrite, Quincy,” she accuses.
“Me, the hypocrite? It was only yesterday you were crying that your fuck-buddy hadn’t told you his complete life story, and now you’ve got even more secrets.”
She’s practically vibrating with fury. “Did I ask for his whole life story? Any of yours? I wanted you to have let me know I was bunking up with fucking criminals. Yet you expect me to tell you everything. Get fucked,” she shouts, shoving me again, but this time I’m ready and stand solid as she pushes into my chest, infuriating her even more.
“Madelaine, just tell us and all this can be avoided,” Atlas sighs.
“It could be avoided if Quincy didn’t have a fucking stick up his ass. You don’t get any information that you decide you want, I don’t give a fuck how many trust issues you might have.”
Max chuckles behind me. So not the time, dude. “Well, now Madelaine’s put Quince in his place, can we move on?”
“Jesus, someone wants to get laid,” I spit bitterly.
“You’re fucking unbelievable,” she says as she leaves us and heads to her bedroom.
Atlas heads after her. “Lai...”
“Don’t you dare ‘Lai’ me. You’re going to stand there and let him treat me like that? Stay the fuck away from me,” we hear from around the corner.
Atlas sighs as he comes back to the kitchen. “Well, that could’ve gone better. 48 hours without pissing her off. A record, surely.”
Max makes us all strong drinks and we sit in silence. So that definitely escalated, but she’s so fucking difficult. We’re used to women giving and saying whatever we want them to. Even now I think back to those Stepford girlfriends and realise how fucking boring they were. Madelaine has way more fight in her than all of them put together, and I love that about her. Her fire and her balls. There’s no rational thinking on my part when she’s pushing back. I want to make her submit to me, but I have the feeling I’d hate that if it ever happened and she lost her spice.
I have no idea how long has passed when Madelaine leaves her bedroom and walks past us towards the front door. She looks spectacular in a tight, black silk dress that drapes at her chest, showing the swell of her breasts. She has skyscraper heels that show off her slender caramel legs and the super-thin dress straps show off her arms and collarbones. Fuck. Why am I pissing off a woman that looks like that? I have to remind myself that she’s a lying traitor who wants to bring us all down. Yep, that’s definitely what she is.
“Where are you going?” Atlas asks with an edge to his voice, jumping up from his barstool.
“Dinner with Lia,” she replies curtly. “Don’t worry, this isn’t my running away outfit.”
“I’ll drive you,” he offers.
“Jeremy is waiting outside.” With that, she walks out.
Atlas slams his fist down on the counter. “This is your fucking fault, Quinn. And why isn’t she mad at you?” he asks Max.
“Probably because I stuck up for her,” he explains.
“Atlas hit me,” I deadpan.
“Yeah, when you mentioned fucking her. He let you run your mouth the rest of the time, even tried to convince her to spill her secrets to placate you.”
“Fuck,” Atlas says. “When did you get so wise?”
“Trust me, for a girl like Madelaine, I’ll pay attention.”