Fated Series. Book #2
"Be possessive of me, own me, keep me, because if you do then nothing and no one else can." - Maddox.
My name is Maddox Vallero, and I'm dead.
Well, that's not quite true. I'm alive in the breathing, walking, talking sense-but...
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Chapter 25 End Deal Sophia
From the laptop, Maddox reached out and sloppily signed on the dotted line. "No more," he mumbled, leaning back dramatically. "My fingers are going to fall off."
Rolling my eyes at his nonsense, I took the clipboard back and sighed, already bracing myself for the headache this signature was going to cause. I could practically hear legal's groaning emails now, debating whether it was Maddox who signed the paperwork or a preschooler hopped up on sugar. And yes, they've used that exact comparison. And yes, I've already put them in their place. Twice.
Still, I wasn't blind to the fact that Maddox's signature did look like someone was dragged through a forest mid-signing. The other week, he had the audacity to complain, telling me I needed to "learn to forge his signature already." Little does he know, I've had it down since day one. I kept that fact to myself, though. Not because I'm overly honest, but because I've always been good at copying signatures. Someone had to sign my school paperwork when I was a kid. And since my mother couldn't even hold a pen half the time because she was too high, that someone ended up being me.
I quickly scanned the documents with my phone, emailing them to myself as Maddox returned his attention to his laptop. His keyboard taps were barely audible over the droning discussion taking place in the meeting room. But I was hyper-focused on him.
So close to him, I couldn't escape the way his presence radiated outward, filling the space between us like a current. The pressure in my core refused to rest. I sensed him—every tiny movement, every soft exhale, the faint cedarwood scent clinging to him. It was distracting. Infuriating. Erotic. Maddox did something to me that no one else ever had. It wasn't just physical; it was religious, almost cosmic, the way my entire body seemed wired to him.
And here I was, struggling to take notes in a meeting that no one cared about.
The only reason we were here was out of courtesy. When the multi-millionaire CEO of a major marketing firm calls and practically begs for a meeting, you take it. Even if it's pointless. Vargas Corporation already invested in several major marketing firms, and neither Mateo nor Maddox saw the need for another. That's why Maddox was hardly paying attention, his eyes glued to his laptop, and Mateo looked like he might actually fall asleep, his chin propped on his giant fist.
Eric, the CEO sitting across from us, either didn't notice or didn't care. He was rambling, his voice tinged with desperation that didn't quite make sense. His company was one of the most successful in New York, its reputation sterling: fair, honest, and highly valued. So why was he here, pitching us like his company was circling the drain?
After another ten minutes of him spewing logistics we didn't need to hear, Mateo finally cut him off. "Eric," he said, his deep voice sharp and no-nonsense. "Can you be more specific about what it is you want from us? Because it sure as hell isn't money."
