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 48 Cuffed Sophia
The days were drifting by one after the other, and before I knew it, New York was blanketed in white frosty snow, and Christmas was only two weeks away. Typing up an email, I felt good knowing I already had all my gifts bought. Jax had sent his list to Santa weeks ago, and Maddox was surprisingly less of a challenge than I expected—though that might be because he's a walking Christmas list. Anything that sparks even mild interest gets talked about for hours. The amount of passion he carries in his body is unworldly.
I've come to realize Maddox struggles to find balance between what angers him and the good that's quietly blooming in front of him. So, I've made it my mission to help with that. Every morning, before anything else, I have him name three things he's grateful for—things that made him feel good in that moment. He always starts with Jax and me, but that third thing? It's always random. It might be meaningful, or as unserious as the bowl of cereal he had that morning.
It always uplifts him.
And it always gives me a new reason to love him.
Email sent, I stood from my chair and gathered my laptop and notebook for my next meeting. Maddox had been in back-to-back meetings all morning. With the quarter coming to an end, everyone was sprinting to shut things down on a high note. I'd barely seen him today—and it had put a damper on my mood. Judging by the rapid-fire texts I'd been getting, he wasn't happy about it either.
As if on cue, my phone buzzed in my hand, and I couldn't hold back the chuckle that escaped. Adjusting my white turtleneck, which I'd tucked into the white-and-pink striped trousers I'd paired it with, I opened our seemingly endless text thread. I used to hate texting. Now? I practically live for it.
"Unbearable. You'd think these chairs are made of plastic."
"I miss you. Come save me."
"Fine. Just walk past the room so I can see you through the glass. Give me that. I need something. I'm desperate."
Grinning, I typed back while walking: "Poor baby. I'll be walking down that hall in a few seconds if you catch me."
His reply came fast ."I'll catch you."
I was still looking down at my phone, writing up a teasing joke about staring too hard when I turned the hallway corner. It's almost embarrassing how just talking to Maddox recharges me. I don't think I ever realized how drained I was until he gave me a boost. And he does it in the most subtle ways. Sometimes it's ordering my favorite green smoothie or lunch. Other times, when he can tell I'm overstressed and teetering, he'll suggest we grab food together. Of course, I'll say I don't have time—but that never stops him. He'll come up with some ridiculous excuse, like we're meeting a client or there's an urgent work thing. I always know he's lying, but it's the effort he puts in that makes me stop, take a breath, and give in.
It's the realization that Maddox knows me. That behind the confident, polished woman I present to the world, he sees the overworked, overstimulated, constantly-overthinking me—the version I don't show anyone. He sees her. Loves her. Cherishes her. He doesn't ask her to be more. He lets her be. He waters the ground beneath me and watches me grow like he's proud of every leaf.
