A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss (by Gregory Ellington) novel Chapter 381

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Chapter 381

Madison

Hazel’s car was still in the driveway when I pulled in. Through the window, I could see her at the kitchen table, laptop open, phone pressed to her ear. She looked exhausted.

Inside, the house smelled like cinnamon and vanilla. My mother must have been baking again.

“Mommy!” Ethan’s shriek preceded him as he launched himself from the living room, crashing into my legs with enough force to make me stumble.

“Hey, baby.” I caught him, ruffling his hair. “How was school?”

“Amazing! We made volcanoes, and mine exploded the biggest. Miss Daisy said it was very impressive. Can we make one at home? Please?”

“Maybe this weekend,” I promised, steering him back toward the living room. “Did you thank Aunt Hazel for picking you up?”

“Yes.” He bounced on his toes. “And I showed her my volcano drawing, and she said it looked like a real one except real volcanoes don’t have faces.”

“Your volcano has a face?”

“A happy face! Because he’s excited to erupt!” Ethan demonstrated with explosive hand gestures.

I couldn’t help but smile. “That makes perfect sense.”

Hazel emerged from the kitchen, phone finally tucked away. “Thank God you’re home. I love him, but four–year -olds have more energy than cocaine.”

“Hazel!”

“What? He didn’t hear me.” She glanced at Ethan, who was now making explosion sounds while his toy trucks crashed into each other. “See? Totally absorbed.”

“How was the café?” Hazel asked, her tone too casual.

“Fine.”

“Just fine?”

“Yep.” I headed to the kitchen, needing something to do with my hands. “Want tea?”

“Madison.” Hazel followed me. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened.”

“You’re lying.”

“Fine.” I filled the kettle. “Alexander showed up.”

“What did he say? Did you throw something at him? Please tell me you threw something at him.”

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“Nothing important. And no.” I turned to face her. “He walked in, ordered coffee, and left. That’s it.”

“That’s it? He drove from Manhattan to order a three–dollar coffee?”

“Apparently.”

“Bullshit.” Hazel leaned against the counter. “What did he really want?”

“I don’t know. He didn’t say anything beyond his order.” The kettle whistled, giving me an excuse to turn away.

I poured hot water over tea bags with shaking hands. “I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know why he came. And honestly? I don’t care.”

“Now that’s definitely a lie.”

“Can we drop it? Please?” I handed her a mug. “He came, he left, it’s over.”

“Is it?” Hazel’s eyes searched my face. “Or is he coming back?”

The memory of Alexander’s departing figure flashed through my mind. The way he’d paused at the door. The way he’d looked back at the café.

“I don’t think so,” I said, lying again.

“Mommy!” Ethan raced into the kitchen. “Can we have dinosaur nuggets for dinner?”

“Sure, baby.” I welcomed the distraction. “Go wash your hands.”

He zoomed off, leaving a trail of toy trucks in his wake.

“This conversation isn’t over,” Hazel warned. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Can’t wait,” I muttered into my tea.

Dinner was chaotic in the best way. Ethan narrated his entire day between bites of nuggets, complete with sound effects. Mom joined us, regaling Hazel with stories from her book club’s latest drama.

After Ethan’s bath, I tucked him into bed with his favorite dragon book.

“The one about the fire–breathing dragon who’s scared of the dark?” he asked, already settling under his covers.

“That’s the one.” I sat beside him, opening the book. “Once upon a time, there was a dragon named Ember who lived in a cave high on a mountain…”

Before I reached the third page, his breathing had evened out, his small chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of sleep. I closed the book and brushed his hair back from his forehead, studying the face that looked so much like his father’s.

I kissed his forehead and slipped from the room, closing the door with a soft click.

Hazel was sprawled on the couch, laptop balanced on her knees, phone wedged between her shoulder and ear. I headed to the kitchen and poured myself a glass of water, listening to Hazel’s increasingly strained patience. “I’ll send the files again.” She ended the call and tossed her phone onto the cushion beside her. “That client is

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going to drive me to drink.‘

“You already drink.”

“To drink more, then.” She rubbed her temples. “How’s the little man?”

“Out cold. Dragons are apparently very soothing.”

“Unlike his mother’s love life, which is a complete disaster,”

I shot her a look over my water glass. “My love life is fine.”

“You don’t have a love life. That’s the problem.”

“I have a business and a son. That’s plenty.”

Hazel closed her laptop. “You’re not ninety. You’re allowed to date.”

“I tried dating. Remember Christopher? That went nowhere.”

“Because you’re hung up on He Who Shall Not Be Named.”

“I’m not hung up on anyone,” I lied, taking a long drink.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Can we talk about something else?” I set down my water glass. “Literally anything else.”

“Fine.” Hazel stretched like a cat. “But for the record, you’re a terrible liar.”

“Noted.”

We spent the next hour watching reality TV, letting the manufactured drama of strangers wash over us. Hazel kept up a running commentary about the contestants‘ poor life choices, and I laughed in all the right places, grateful for the distraction.

Eventually, exhaustion won. We said our goodnights, and I climbed into bed, willing myself not to think about Alexander Knight.

I failed spectacularly.

Morning arrived with Ethan’s usual enthusiasm.

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