We walked down the hall together then, and Madison gave me a quick little tour of everything we passed. She was quick and efficient, if not a little curt, and I had to admit that I admired that a little bit. So many women worked to act like men in the workplace, but Madison simply seemed like she was acting like herself. She wasn’t worried about coming off as a bitch or something like that. Cindy was probably the same way.
We got into the elevator and she hit the button for the sixth floor. “Cindy’s office is actually just off the elevator,” she said as we sped upward.
“That’s perfect,” I said, turning toward her. It was time to make my move, and I knew it. “Because I have something I want to say.”
She raised and eyebrow and smiled. “Oh? What’s that?”
“I know it’s you, Madison. The pictures, the blackmail.” I paused, letting that sink in. “I know it’s you.”
Her face slowly fell. It went from passive and amused to surprised in half a second flat. “W-what are you talking about?” she stammered.
“We found your source, the waitress. She told us it’s you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I glanced at the elevator’s display. We were half a floor away.
“Meet me in the parking garage at three. Second level, B row.”
“What?” she said, completely off guard. I could tell she was shaken.
“Meet me there or your job is finished.”
The elevator reached the floor with a ding and the doors opened up.
Madison stared at me for a second and then quickly got herself together. “Well,” she said, “right this way.”
I followed her out and down a short hallway. Her desk was set up outside a large glass door. Inside I could see Cindy sitting at her desk. She waved me inside, smiling, though she was on the phone.
“See you later, Madison,” I said sweetly.
She didn’t respond, simply sat down at her desk as I pushed into Cindy’s office.
I had to hand it to the girl. I had dropped a bombshell on her out of nowhere, and she had gotten herself together pretty fast. I suspected she would show up at the parking garage; she wasn’t stupid. But I had to be careful of her.
I didn’t know what surprises she might have in store for me.
* * *
Lunch was fine. We ate at an expensive restaurant, and Cindy mostly talked about her job. I asked her questions to keep her going, not really interested in talking much myself.
I was pretty distracted. I kept thinking about Madison and began to wonder if I had made a mistake not confronting her with everything right there in the elevator. I could have pulled the emergency stop switch or something like that.
Lunch dragged on and on, but finally we left the restaurant at a bit past two. Cindy headed back to her office, and I took a short walk around downtown, killing time, letting my thoughts roam.
I kept coming back to Cole’s face and the way he touched me over and over. Even with the terrifying meeting ahead of me, I couldn’t stop thinking about Cole and his cocky swagger. Everything about him was frustrating but incredible, this heady mix of desire and lust and everything forbidden. Our potential divorce had basically slipped my mind, I realized with a start.
For the past year, I had done nothing but worry about that divorce. I had obsessed and thought about how much better my life could be if I didn’t have an absent husband weighing down my conscience. And suddenly he was back, but the divorce had slowly melted from my mind.
That was what he did to me. He made me forget what I wanted, replaced it with something else. Because for the past few weeks, ever since he had come home, what I really wanted was him. Not a divorce, nothing like that. Just him.
Eventually I found myself wandering into the parking structure outside Cindy’s workplace. I checked my watch: five minutes early. I quickly found the spot and leaned up against a pillar, waiting.
Madison was right on time. She walked out of the elevators and over toward me, her heels clacking on the concrete. Her face was hard and serious. There were only a few cars parked near us, which meant the place had an eerie, empty feeling.
Exactly what I wanted.
“Hello, Madison,” I said sweetly.
“What do you want?” she snapped.
I smiled and relished in her discomfort. “I wanted to talk to you about our little problem.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
I laughed and shook my head. “Come on, Madison, really? Denial? That’s pretty weak.”
She looked flustered, frowning. “I’m, well, I just, I don’t know what you want from me.”
“Blackmail is serious, Madison. It’s a crime. You can go to jail for this.”