Chapter 6 6

Alexander

My head felt like someone had used it as a piñata at a particularly aggressive children's party. I groaned, rolling over in bed to escape the sunlight streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Bad move. The room spun like a carnival ride.

"Good morning, Mr. Knight." Dr. Peterson's voice cut through my fog. "How's the head?"

I cracked one eye open. "What are you doing in my bedroom?"

"Miss Harper called me last night. Found you in quite a state."

Fragments of last night floated through my mind like confetti in a windstorm. The business event. That insufferable board member droning on about golf. The sweating, the walls closing in...

"What exactly happened?" I pressed my palms against my temples.

"Your guess is as good as mine." Dr. Peterson pulled out his penlight. "Follow the light, please."

I batted his hand away. "Skip the doctor routine. Just give me something for this headache."

"Already ahead of you." He placed two pills and a glass of water on my nightstand.

I swallowed the pills in one gulp, grimacing at the metallic taste in my mouth. "Thanks, Doc."

"We need to discuss what happened." Dr. Peterson settled into the armchair by my bed, his expression serious. "Do you remember anything from last night?"

I closed my eyes, trying to piece together the fragments. "The Morrison merger celebration. Everyone packed into that stuffy ballroom at the Plaza." My collar had felt too tight, the air too thick. "I couldn't breathe. Needed to get out."

"And then?"

"I came back here. Everything after that's..." I waved my hand vaguely.

"Miss Harper found you in quite a state. She made the right call contacting me."

"Madison? Why would she-"

I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and scrolled through my messages. There it was, sent to Madison: '325 Park Avenue, Penthouse. Come now.'

I dropped the phone like it had burned me. "I meant to text you."

"Well, you didn't. And this situation is serious. Your symptoms, combined with your state when I arrived... Someone may have slipped something into your drink."

The room suddenly felt colder. "What?"

"The disorientation, memory loss, elevated heart rate - classic signs. We need to investigate who had access to your drinks last night."

I rubbed my face, mind racing through faces at the party. The bartender. That over-friendly investor. The new board member who'd cornered me about his golf handicap.

"This isn't a joke. If someone's targeting you-"

"I know, I know." My head throbbed. "I'll have security pull the footage and check the guest list."

"Good. And no more drinking at public events until we sort this out." He stood, gathering his bag. "I've cleared your morning schedule. Rest. I'll check back this afternoon."

As the door shut behind him, I stared at my phone and that message to Madison. What had she walked into last night? And how the hell was I going to face her at the office?

I showered, trying to wash away the fog in my brain. The hot water helped, but fragments of last night kept surfacing - soft moans, vanilla perfume, the taste of cherry lip gloss...

The next morning, I strode into the office like any other day. My head still throbbed, but at least I could think straight.

Madison sat at her desk. Her posture was stiffer than usual. When she noticed me, she quickly looked down, avoiding eye contact.

"Good morning, Miss Harper."

She glanced up briefly. "Good morning, Mr. Knight."

I paused, waiting for the usual small talk or a rundown of my schedule. Instead, she focused intently on her screen, tapping away as if her life depended on it.

"Everything alright?" I tried to keep my tone light.

"Yes, just catching up on some work." Her voice was clipped, professional to a fault.

"Alright then." I turned and headed into my office.

Once inside, I closed the door behind me and sank into my chair. The events of that night were a hazy blur – but seeing Madison triggered something. Vivid memories surged forward like an unstoppable tide.

I remembered her skin's softness and how her breath hitched when I kissed her neck. Her body had felt perfect under my hands, her breasts heavy and warm as I cupped them, teasing her nipples with my fingers until they hardened into stiff peaks.

Fragments of our encounter flickered in my mind like an erratic film reel: her gasp when I pressed her against the wall, her lips' sweet taste with a hint of cherry, and how she clung to me as if I were her lifeline.

I could feel the weight of her breasts in my hands again, how they fit perfectly in my palms. The way her body responded to my touch, arching into me, desperate for more.

The sensation of sliding my fingers down, feeling the wet heat between her legs. She had been so tight, so ready. My cock twitched at the memory of pushing into her, inch by inch, stretching her until she cried out.

Her moans echoed in my ears as I recalled the rhythm we set, fast and hard. Each thrust drove deeper into her tight pussy, our bodies colliding in a frenzy of need. Her nails had dug into my back, urging me on.

I could still see the look on her face as she came around me, her eyes wide with pleasure.

"Fuck," I muttered to myself, scrubbing a hand over my face. The memory was too vivid to be a dream. Madison's scent lingered on my sheets; her taste still clung to my lips.

As I sat there in my office, I couldn't shake the realization that night hadn't been some drug-induced hallucination. It had been real – and Madison had been incredible.

The hair tie confirmed it. I found a tiny purple band with a little butterfly charm tangled in my sheets this morning. Madison often wore these; I'd noticed them during meetings, though I'd never paid them much mind. But now, that small detail stood out like a beacon.

I leaned back in my chair, recalling the fleeting moment I'd seen her with one of those ties. It was during that ridiculous water-dumping incident with Vanessa. I'd stood close to Madison, trying to defuse the situation, and caught a glimpse of a similar hair tie securing her ponytail.

Now, it was in my bed. There was no mistaking it.

My thoughts shifted as I watched Madison through the glass wall of my office. She moved with her usual precision, typing away at her desk. She seemed as composed and professional as ever. Unlike other women who might have tried to leverage our encounter for something more, she acted as if nothing had happened.

I found myself looking at her differently. The memory of her body pressed against mine, and the sounds she made as we moved together excited me. She wasn't just my competent assistant anymore; she was a woman who had shared an incredible night with me and then returned to work without batting an eye.

I'd never seen Madison in that way before. She was always serious, ignoring my flirtatious comments with an eye roll or a dismissive smile. I thought she was cute, sure – a little dorky even – but mainly good at her job.

Flirting with her had always been a playful thing for me. I didn't know much about her personal life; I didn't even know if she had a boyfriend. But if she slept with me, I figured she didn't have one. Madison didn't strike me as the casual type.

I smirked to myself, finding humor in the situation. Here was this woman who remained unruffled after such an intimate encounter while I sat here replaying every moment in my head.

When the IT department flagged unusual activity on Madison's work computer, I couldn't believe my eyes. Wedding planning websites? Virtual assistant training modules? Contracts with external clients? Madison, my impeccably organized, rule-following assistant, moonlighting for another company? I almost laughed out loud.

But instead of punishing her immediately, I decided to watch. It was so out of character for her. And I was curious. What was she up to?

When I learned she needed money for her mom's medical bills, an idea formed in my mind. A rather wicked one.

I held up Madison's hair tie, watching her face flush crimson. The butterfly charm caught the morning light, a silent witness to our night together.

"So, about that night..." I leaned against my desk. "Turns out someone might've slipped something in my drink. Dr. Peterson found traces of an unknown substance."

Madison's eyes widened.

"Thanks to you calling the doctor," I twirled the hair tie between my fingers. "But it means someone's targeting me, which leads to a complicated situation."

She shifted in her chair. "How so?"

"Doc says I need to be more careful. No more random hookups or one-night stands. Too risky." I watched her reaction carefully. "And then there's this other matter – your moonlighting activities."

Her face went from red to white in record time.

"Here's what I'm thinking." I moved closer, dropping my voice. "You need money for your mom's medical bills. I need someone I can trust, someone discreet." I gestured between us. "We clearly have chemistry."

"Mr. Knight-"

"I'll make sure your mother gets the best care available. Top specialists, private rooms, the works. And we'll forget all about those contract violations."

Madison sat perfectly still, like a statue. Then something shifted in her expression – hurt flashed across her face, followed by a rage I'd never seen before.

She stood up so fast that her chair rolled backward. "You know what I thought when I first started working here? That despite your Playboy reputation, you actually valued competence. That you saw my abilities."

"I do-"

"No." She laughed, but it wasn't a happy sound. "You see an opportunity. Someone desperate enough to manipulate." Her hands balled into fists. "Is that how you became so successful? Finding people at their lowest and exploiting them?"

"That's not-"

"If you're looking for a personal prostitute, I suggest you try elsewhere." She spat the words like they tasted bad. "I'd rather lose my job than lose my self-respect."

Her words hit like a slap. I just stared at her, caught off guard by the venom in her voice. Something twisted in my chest – an unfamiliar sensation that I quickly shoved aside. If anything, her fierce reaction made this more interesting.

I'd expected resistance. Madison wasn't the type to fall into bed easily – our drug-fueled encounter aside. Her moral stance only added to the thrill of the chase.

But 'personal prostitute'? That stung. Made me sound like some sleazy corporate villain from a bad movie.

"You're misunderstanding me." I straightened up, adjusting my tie. "What if I offered something more legitimate?"

"Like what?"

"Be my girlfriend."

Madison's jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"One year." I warmed to the idea as I spoke.