Chapter 2: The Devil in Daylight
The deep, unfamiliar quiet of the penthouse woke her first, then the sensation of cool, high-thread-count sheets against her bare skin. She blinked, finding the other side of the bed empty but still faintly warm, the city skyline now a sharp, rain-washed blue beyond the glass. Padding barefoot into the kitchen, she found Robert leaning against the black marble island, immaculate in a charcoal suit, sipping espresso. “Hi, beautiful,” he said, his smile easy, his blue eyes tracking her in his borrowed dress shirt. He slid a plate of sliced mango, kiwi, and berries toward her, each piece arranged with absurd precision. “There’s coffee, black, no sugar.” He remembered. The detail sent a small, warm shock through her. “A car is waiting downstairs whenever you’re ready,” he added, his voice calm, almost businesslike, but his fingers brushed hers as he passed the porcelain mug.
The black sedan dropped her at the curb of her shared brownstone, the normalcy of the street feeling like a different planet. Her roommate, Lily, was on the couch surrounded by textbooks, her eyes wide over her coffee cup. “Oh my god, your face,” Lily breathed, taking in Maddison’s rumpled shirt, the city haze in her eyes. The story poured out in a breathless, tangled rush—the humiliating drenching, the tailored jacket, the truffle fries, the private dance floor, the impossible penthouse, the sex so loud she was almost ashamed. “He just… handled everything,” Maddison finished, her voice dropping to a whisper. “Like I was something precious, but also temporary.” She stared at her hands, still smelling faintly of his soap. “The fruit was cut perfectly,” she added, the absurd specificity hanging in the air between them, a tiny, glowing relic of a world she’d already been ejected from. Lily just stared, her textbook forgotten. “So you’re, like, obsessed now,” she stated, a fact, not a question. Maddison didn’t deny it.
Lily set her coffee down with a deliberate click. “So let me get this straight,” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “He was a perfect gentleman with a perfect jacket and perfect fruit.”
“It sounds insane when you say it like that.” Maddison pulled the borrowed shirt tighter, inhaling the faded scent of his cologne. “But yes.”
“And the kitchen thing this morning? What was that, like a ‘good morning’ or a ‘goodbye’?”
“He smiled and said, ‘Hi, beautiful,’” Maddison repeated, the words feeling different in her own mouth—smaller. “Then he told me my car was ready.” She swallowed. “Lil, I’ve never… is this just a one-night stand? It felt like more while it was happening.”
She started listing points on her fingers, her voice gaining a frantic edge. “He’s tall, obviously handsome, rich—but that’s not even it. He saw me standing there, a drowned, humiliated mess, and his first move was to cover me up. He asked me about old books. He was an amazing dancer, Lily. And the sex… he was so attentive, like my comfort was the entire point.” She finally looked up, her brown eyes wide with confused awe. “He was just… perfect. So what do I do?”
Lily shrugged, a pragmatic lift of her shoulders. “You live your life. You go to class. You fix your smelly old books.” She nudged Maddison’s foot with her own. “If it’s meant to be more, he’ll find you. Guys like that always do.”
Maddison stared into her coffee, the ceramic mug warm against her palms. “Guys like that always do.”
A bolt of pure, delayed horror shot through her. She jerked upright, the coffee sloshing. “Oh my god,” she breathed, her eyes wide. “I left my bra there.” Her hands flew to the front of Robert’s oversized shirt, fingers clutching the fine cotton. “I just realized I am wearing his shirt but I forgot to get my bra… my pink lace bra is just… sitting in his bedroom.” Lily’s eyebrows climbed toward her hairline, a slow grin spreading. “Well, that’s a hell of a calling card,” she snorted, unable to contain her laughter. “Forget a phone number, leave intimate apparel. It’s bold.” The apartment felt suddenly shabby, the sound of a neighbor’s shower pipes groaning through the walls. Maddison buried her face in her hands, the scent of him still clinging to the shirt’s collar, a now-cruel reminder. “This is a disaster. He’ll find it and think I did it on purpose.”
“A disaster?” Lily scoffed, but her grin faded into something softer. “Maddi, you were screaming when you were having sex with him. In his penthouse. The bra is the least memorable thing about you, trust me.”
Maddison’s cheeks burned hotter. She thought of the throaty echoes off his bedroom walls, her own voice unrecognizable. “That’s the other thing,” she whispered, pulling her knees to her chest. “He probably thinks I’m desperate. Or unhinged.” The words tasted sour. “Everything was so perfect and controlled with him, and then I just… lost it. I left a piece of myself literally tangled in his sheets.” She let out a shaky breath, the scent of his laundry detergent still taunting her. “God, I’m an idiot.”
“Stop it,” Lily said, her tone firm. “You weren’t desperate. You were into him. There’s a difference.” She leaned forward, planting her elbows on her knees. “The question is, what are you going to do now? Sit here smelling his shirt forever?” Maddison shrugged, the gesture hopeless. “Just go to class,” Lily insisted, standing up. “Right now. You need to move. Put on real clothes and walk.”
Maddison forced herself to stand, the cold floor shocking her bare feet. The borrowed shirt felt like a costume now. She needed her own jeans, her own worn-in sweater, the familiar armor of her mundane life.
She peeled his shirt off, the fine cotton pooling on her dorm room floor like a discarded ghost. Her own jeans were stiff, the denim smelling faintly of library dust and her lavender detergent. “He’s older, you know,” she said, her voice muffled as she pulled a soft grey sweater over her head.
“How much older?” Lily asked, leaning against the doorframe.
Maddison emerged, tugging her hair free. “Forty, I think.” She saw Lily’s eyes widen just a fraction. “But he’s very handsome, Lil. It’s not a dad-thing, it’s a… seasoned thing.” She sat on the edge of her bed to tie her sneakers, her fingers moving automatically. “I’m just so over the guys our age.” The laces pulled tight. “They talk about video games and whose turn it is to buy the cheap beer.”
She stood, finally feeling grounded in her own skin again. “Their idea of a date is a crowded bar where you can’t hear anything.” She grabbed her canvas backpack, shoving a notebook inside with more force than necessary. “He knew how I took my coffee without asking.” She looked at Lily, her conviction solidifying as she said it aloud. “I should go for older guys. Ones who’ve already figured some things out.” A honking car from the street below punctuated her statement. She slung the bag over her shoulder, the weight of her books a comforting anchor. “Anyway, I have a conservation seminar.” She walked past Lily, her steps purposeful on the creaking floorboards. The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the scent of Robert’s cologne to slowly fade from the room.
The door clicked shut behind her, leaving the scent of Robert’s cologne to slowly fade from the room. Robert’s key turned in the lock hours later, the silence of the penthouse a cool wall after the day’s grating negotiations. He shrugged off his suit jacket, tossing it over the back of a sofa, and loosened his tie with a single, tired pull. The sterile order of the space, usually a comfort, felt abruptly hollow. He poured two fingers of whiskey, the crystal glass catching the last of the afternoon sun, and walked toward the bedroom to change.
The bed was still neatly unmade from the morning, the sheets tangled in a single, suggestive knot at the foot. He set his drink on the nightstand, the ice clicking softly. His hand went to his cufflinks, fingers working the platinum studs, when a flash of color against the dark linens snagged his attention. It was a small, delicate spill of pink lace, almost hidden in a fold. He went still.
He knew what it was before he touched it. He picked it up, the fabric impossibly light in his palm. The memory was instant: the drenched cream shirt plastered against this same lace in the speakeasy’s dim light, her embarrassed shiver. He brought it to his face without thinking, inhaling deeply. It smelled faintly of her—vanilla from her lotion, the ghost of rain, and something else, something uniquely and intimately Maddison. A sharp, unexpected ache bloomed behind his ribs. He stood there for a long moment, the delicate straps dangling from his fingers, staring at nothing. The quiet in the room was no longer hollow; it was now filled with a specific, pressing absence. He carefully folded the bra, placed it in his nightstand drawer, and closed it with a soft, definitive click.
He carefully folded the bra, placed it in his nightstand drawer, and closed it with a soft, definitive click. The whiskey tasted like nothing now. He paced the cool concrete floor of the bedroom, the city’s evening glow painting his silhouette in blues against the far wall. He stopped at the window, phone heavy in his hand, and scrolled until he found the number entered last night after she’d fallen asleep.
It rang three times before she answered, her voice breathless, a backdrop of chatter and clattering trays behind her. “Hello?”
“Maddison. It’s Robert.” He paused, hearing her immediate, sharp intake of breath. “You left something.” He could picture her freezing, a tray of cafeteria food forgotten in her hands. “Your pink bra.” The line went so quiet he could hear the hum of her end, the distant shout of a name. “I found it.” He leaned his forehead against the cool glass. “How was your day?”
“My day?” She sounded dazed, then gave a short, shaky laugh. “It was… fine. Class. I just got dinner.” A plastic fork snapped in the background. “What did you do?”
He looked at the empty, impeccable space around him. “Meetings. Arguments dressed up as conversations.” He heard her shift, maybe walking to a quieter corner. “The fruit was good,” she said, the words tentative, a bridge back to the morning. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“I wanted to.” He meant it. “The bra, though. That’s a first for me.” A genuine smile touched his voice. “I’ll keep it safe.” He let the offer hang, a deliberate silence for her to fill.
“Okay,” she whispered, the din around her fading. “You can… keep it.” Another pause, thicker this time. “I should go. My friend’s waiting.”
“Of course.” He didn’t hang up. “Goodnight, Maddison.”
“Goodnight, Robert.” The call ended. She stood in the noisy campus hallway, phone gripped tight, her skin humming. He’d called. He remembered the lace, the specific shade of pink. He’d asked about her day. Lily was going to lose her mind.
The plastic tray in her hands was suddenly very heavy. She stared at her phone’s black screen, her own breath loud in her ears despite the hallway’s roar. Her skin felt electrified, hyper-aware of the cheap polyester of her sweater.
Lily was, in fact, losing her mind two tables over. “Was that him?” she hissed, leaning so far forward her own dinner was in jeopardy. “You look like you’ve been plugged into a wall socket.”
Maddison slid into the chair, the phone clattering onto the table. “He called.” Her voice was a thin wire. “About the bra.” Lily’s jaw actually dropped. “He said he’ll keep it safe.” She repeated his words, their quiet possession echoing in the sterile cafeteria light. “He asked about my day.”
“He asked about my day.” The plastic fork bent in her hand. “Then I just… panicked. I told him to keep it.”
Lily’s eyes widened. “You told him to keep your bra?”
“Was that weird?” Maddison’s whisper was frantic. “I felt so nervous, my mind just blanked. And he said it was a first for him.” She leaned in, the formica table cool against her forearms. “What does that even mean? A first what? First forgotten bra, first time a woman told him to keep it?” She mimicked his low, calm tone. “He just said ‘goodnight’ after that, like it was nothing.” The cafeteria noise swirled around them, a dissonant chorus to her confusion. “So what do I do now? Do I text him? Do I just pretend it never happened?” She stared at the congealing pasta on her tray, her appetite gone. “I don’t know the rules for this.”
Lily sipped her soda, thinking. “He called you. That’s the only rule that matters.” She tapped a finger on the table. “The bra thing is just a thing. It’s an excuse.” A slow smile spread across her face. “He’s keeping your underwear in his nightstand, Maddi. That’s not a goodbye.” Maddison’s phone lit up with a library reminder, the screen glaring in the low light. She ignored it, her thumb hovering over Robert’s contact. The city beyond the cafeteria windows began to glitter, each light a tiny, distant decision.
The city beyond the cafeteria windows began to glitter, each light a tiny, distant decision. Maddison pushed her tray away, the smell of grease and powdered cheese suddenly nauseating. “Why did I tell him to keep it?” she blurted, her voice cracking. “I could’ve said I’d pick it up again just to have an excuse to see him.”
“Because you were flustered,” Lily said, shrugging. “It’s cute.”
“It’s idiotic.” She slumped back, the plastic chair creaking. “Now I have zero reason to contact him unless I want to sound completely unhinged.” Her phone buzzed again, a vibration that skittered up her arm. It wasn’t a library reminder this time.
“You need an excuse to see him? Here,” Lily said, her expression merciless. She hit send with a definitive tap and slid the phone back across the table. The sent message glowed on the screen: Hey it’s Maddison, sorry I don’t know why I told you to keep my bra… I’d like to pick it up if that’s okay with you.
Maddison stared, horrified. The three pulsing dots appeared immediately beneath her text, Robert typing a reply in real time.
The three pulsing dots pulsed, then vanished, then pulsed again. Maddison’s knuckles were white around the phone. The cafeteria’s roar condensed into a dull hum in her ears. A new message finally bloomed, stark and simple on the screen.
A new message finally bloomed, stark and simple on the screen. Of course you can pick it up. The three dots danced again, a cruel, teasing pause. But I can’t help but think you were going about your day without a bra. Maddison’s breath hitched, her whole body flushing with a heat that had nothing to do with the cafeteria. I assume you have more than one bra, though. The words hung there, a blatant, delicious flirtation wrapped in plausible deniability.
“Oh my god,” Maddison breathed, her thumb freezing over the screen.
Lily snatched the phone, her eyes scanning. “Damn,” she whistled, low and appreciative. “He’s smooth.” She fanned her own face dramatically. “It’s a hundred degrees in here now.”
Maddison took the phone back, her heart hammering a wild rhythm against her ribs. She could feel the phantom weight of his tailored jacket from last night, the solid warmth of his hand on her back. This was the same man, just distilled into text. She typed, deleted, then typed again, her fingers clumsy. I have others, yes. But that one is my favorite.
She sent it before she could dissect the admission. The reply was almost instantaneous. A favorite bra is a serious matter. Another pause. Tonight? The Velvet Noose. 8pm. I’ll have your property.
“He wants to meet tonight,” Maddison said, her voice thin with disbelief. “At the speakeasy.”
Lily grinned, gathering her trash onto the tray with a decisive clatter. “Then you’re going.”
She arrived ten minutes early, the same rain misting her hair, but this time she wore a simple black dress that she knew fit her perfectly. The Velvet Noose swallowed her again, its familiar amber gloom now laced with a sharp, thrilling déjà vu. He was already there, at the same corner booth, swirling a drink, watching the door like he’d been counting seconds.
He stood as she approached, a slow unfolding of his tall frame, his blue eyes catching the candlelight. “Hi,” he said, his voice a low vibration she felt in her chest. “You look very beautiful.” The directness of it, stripped of all cleverness, made her breath stutter. A smile broke across her face, genuine and relieved, as she stepped into the space he opened for her. They hugged, his suit jacket smooth under her hands, his body solid and warm against hers. He inhaled deeply near her hair and murmured, “Mmm, vanilla.”
She pulled back just enough to see his face, her hands still resting on his arms. “You remember,” she said, her voice soft with wonder.
“It’s a good scent,” he said, his thumb brushing her jawline. “Warm. Like old books.” He gestured for her to sit, sliding a small, folded piece of black silk across the table toward her. “Your property,” he said, a flicker of amusement in his gaze.
She tucked the silk-wrapped bundle into her purse without looking, her cheeks warm. “Thanks. For meeting me.” The waiter appeared, and Robert lifted a brow in silent question. “Just a sparkling water,” she said, wanting a clear head.
“So you can run away again?” he asked, his tone light but his eyes intent.
“So I can pay attention,” she countered, holding his look. He nodded, a quiet approval in the gesture. The water arrived, bubbles rising in the glass like tiny, frantic thoughts. “You’re not what I expected,” she finally said, tracing the rim.
“How so?” he asked, leaning back into the velvet, his expression open but unreadable.
She met his gaze, the candlelight weaving gold through the amber of his drink. “I thought men like you,” she began, choosing her words with care, “disappeared after mornings like that.” A slow shrug lifted her shoulders. “Or at least waited a more strategic number of days before calling.”
“Men like me,” he repeated, a faint, wry twist to his mouth. “You keep saying that.” He reached across the table, his fingers stopping just short of touching her hand. “What if I’m just a man who found a fascinating woman shivering in a bar?” His blue eyes held hers, the intensity in them a tangible force. “The fruit and the car were basics, Maddison. Common decency.”
She laughed, a soft, disbelieving sound. “Common decency isn’t common.” She spun her water glass, the condensation cool on her fingertips. “And it doesn’t usually involve remembering bra colors or the way someone takes their coffee.”
“I pay attention,” he said simply, as if that explained everything. The silence that followed was thick, swollen with everything unsaid from his penthouse bedroom. She took a sharp breath, her brown eyes finding his with a new, defiant clarity.
“I’m kinda waiting for you to ask me out, Robert,” Maddison said, the words rushing out in a single, brave breath. “Properly, I mean. On a date.” He went perfectly still, his piercing gaze locked on her. A slow, undeniable smile began to soften the severe line of his mouth, transforming his entire face. “Are you now?” he murmured, the deep rumble of his voice weaving through the jazz piano. He didn’t look away. “Saturday. Dinner. My treat, my planning. You just have to show up.”