A Secretive Deal with My Billionaire Boss novel Chapter 85

Chapter 85

Madison

I buried my face in my hands. “Stop it! Jackson only sees me as a friend.”

“Keep telling yourself that, Mads.” Hazel stirred her latte with a knowing smirk. “Remember when he brought you soup during finals week?”

“He brought you soup too!”

“Campbell’s from the cafeteria. You got homemade chicken noodles with those little star–shaped pasta things he special ordered.”

“That’s just because I had a worse cold than you did.”

“Uh–huh. And what about that time he drove four hours round trip just to bring you your forgotten laptop charger?”

“He was heading that direction anyway!”

“At midnight? On a Tuesday?” Hazel snorted. “Girl, please. The man would’ve crossed the Sahara Desert on foot if you needed a glass of water.”

I slumped back in my seat. “You’re making way too much out of nothing. We studied together and hung out in groups. Normal

friend stuff.”

“Alright, alright. I believe you. He’s just a friend. A completely platonic, totally–not–crushing–on–you friend who memorized your coffee order and kept your number for three years.”

“See? Was that so hard to accept?” I grabbed a sugar packet, tearing it open with more force than necessary.

“Not nearly as hard as arguing with you about it.” She smirked over her latte. “You’re like a brick wall when you dig your heels in. Remember that time I tried to convince you those leopard print leggings were a fashion crime?”

“They were comfortable!” I protested, dumping the sugar into my coffee. “And on sale.”

“They were an assault on my eyeballs. I had to wear sunglasses every time we hung out.”

“Drama queen.”

“Fashion savior, thank you very much.” She pointed at my outfit. “Notice how much better you dress now that you’ve accepted my wisdom?”

I glanced down at my blouse. “This is just work clothes.”

“Mhmm. And those aren’t Louboutins under the table?”

“They’re knockoffs?” I tried, tucking my feet further under my chair.

“Sure they are, Mads.” Hazel winked. “Just like Jackson is ‘just a friend,‘ and I’m ‘just being dramatic‘ about those crime- against–humanity leggings.”

“Can we please stop talking about the leggings?”

“Fine, fine. But we need to talk about this new job situation. I’m worried about you, Mads. Rich people like Alexander Knight? They’ll squeeze every drop of work out of you until there’s nothing left.”

“It’s not like that-”

“Oh really?” She leaned forward, voice dropping. “How many hours are you already working? And now he wants to pile on an

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Chapter 85

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entire development project? Girl, he’s going to work you into the ground.”

I stirred my coffee, watching the dark liquid swirl “Ite’s different. He actually listens when I speak, and he values my input.”

“Values your input?” Hazel snorted. “Or values how you never say no and work yourself to death? That’s what these CEO types do they find the hardest workers and exploit them until they break.”

“Mr. Knight isn’t like that.” The words came out more defensive than I intended.

Hazel’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh my god. Are you taking his side? The guy who’s literally doubling your workload without doubling your pay?”

“I’m not taking sides!” I protested, though my voice squeaked a bit at the end. “I’m just saying he’s different than what people think.”

“Ditterent how? Because he wears fancy suits and has perfect hair?”

“His hair isn’t that perfect,” I muttered, thinking about how it looked all mussed up after… No. Not going there.

The truth was, I couldn’t tell Hazel about the arrangement. About how Alexander had basically bought a year of my life in exchange for Mom’s medical care. About how every time he touched me, my brain short–circuited between ‘This is just business ‘and ‘Oh god, do that again.”

And now this project manager position? Part of me wondered if it was just another way to keep me tied to him. To make sure I couldn’t escape even if I wanted to.

What would Mom say if she knew? That her improved care came at the cost of her daughter playing pretend girlfriend to her boss? She’d probably march right out of that hospital bed and try to smack Alexander with her IV pole.

And Hazel? I glanced at my best friend, who was still ranting about evil CEOs and their exploitation tactics. She’d absolutely lose it. Probably try to organize a protest outside Knight Industries with homemade signs reading “Free Madison” or something equally mortifying.

“Earth to Madison!” Hazel waved her hand in front of my face. “Where’d you go just now?”

“Sorry, just thinking about the project.” It was not entirely a lie. “There’s so much to coordinate.”

“And that’s exactly what I’m worried about.” Hazel’s voice softened. “You’ve always been responsible, taking care of everyone else. But who’s taking care of you?”

I swallowed hard. “I can take care of myself.”

“Can you?” She reached across the table, squeezing my hand. “Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you’re drowning in responsibilities while Mr. Perfect Hair keeps piling on more.”

“I’m fine, really.” The words tasted false even as I said them.

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