Play with the Phantom: Chapter 30

Ari

Two Weeks LaterThe supermarket is the last place I ever expected to see Maddox Cross look out of place.And yet here he is, standing beside me in the fluorescent-lit cereal aisle, squinting at the shelves like they personally offended him. He’s wearing a plain black t-shirt stretched across his broad chest, dark jeans, and a leather jacket like he just stepped off his motorcycle and wandered into the suburbs of Oceanside by accident.I don’t know why I agreed to this.We were supposed to be laying low. Staying out of sight, keeping things quiet while we figured out what the hell this is—whatever are. But then he suggested it like it was nothing. Like grocery shopping together was just a normal couple thing.weAnd I was curious to see what that version of us might feel like.A version where we weren’t hiding. Where he could just be the man who carries my bags and grumbles about overpriced produce.So I said yes. Even though my heart was racing. Even though I knew better.Now, here we are.“Have you been in a grocery store lately?” I tease, nudging him with my shoulder. “Things have changed.”Maddox glances sideways, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.“Yeah. Commissary didn’t exactly offer five brands of almond milk.” He picks up a carton, flips it over like it’s suspicious. “And oat milk? Still not convinced it’s real food. Feels like a scam.”I snort before I can stop myself. I know I shouldn’t laugh; his time in prison isn’t a joking matter. But he speaks about doing time so casually, I can’t help but tease him for it sometimes.We stock up on my pantry favorites, as well as some chicken breasts and eggs for him. I suppose I didn’t realize much protein it takes to keep him looking like he does.how He points at the cereal. “What’s your favorite? I should know.”I arch a brow. “You stalked me, Maddox. You should know.”alreadyThat wicked grin spreads across his face—lazy, smug, devastating. “Fair.”I reach for a box of Cocoa Puffs without thinking. His hand shoots out at the same time, his fingers brushing mine. We both go still.It’s such a silly thing—a box of cereal—but something about the softness of the moment makes my heart trip. His thumb lingers against my knuckles like he’s reluctant to let go. His expression shifts, that smirk fading into something softer. Something real.“Cocoa Puffs?” I ask, my voice quieter now.His smirk softens even more. “They were Lila’s favorite.” His voice is quiet, almost fragile.I don’t pull away.Instead, I nod. “Your little girl had good taste. They’re my favorite, too.”And for a beat, we just stand there. In the middle of a busy grocery store, with screaming toddlers and clattering carts and a loudspeaker announcing a sale on canned tuna, I forget the gravity of everything. I forget the weight of what came before. He looks at me like I hung the stars.Then, without warning, he tosses two boxes into the cart. “One for now, one for later.”I huff a laugh. “You’re so dramatic.”He leans in, voice dropping. “You’ve known that from the start.”And I smile, because it feels good. Real. Like something we’re building that might actually last.We wander through the store like that, bickering about the quality of the produce, sharing guilty-pleasure snack confessions, and somehow, it all feels so… normal. I tell him about how I’m convinced avocados aren’t actually seasonal, they just hide them to jack up the price.Maddox raises a brow, clearly amused. “You think there’s an avocado cartel?”“I think there’s a lot we don’t know,” I say, dead serious.He chuckles, shaking his head as he kisses the top of my head. “You’re adorable.”Meanwhile, Maddox, the man who could snap a neck without breaking a sweat, turns into someone who debates over peanut butter brands because “the organic shit tastes like punishment.”Once we reach the checkout, I realize something strange has happened.For the first time, it’s not the chaos or the obsession between us that’s making me feel unsteady. It’s the simplicity of it all. The . The terrifying, intoxicating idea that maybe, just maybe, this could be my life. Him. Me. Grocery stores. Arguments over peanut butter.quietAnd for once, I don’t hate the idea, because it’s him.After we check out and drive back to my house, he helps me unload the food in my kitchen. We’ve spent the majority of our days and nights here. As nice as his massive penthouse is, I think we both prefer my grandma’s small bungalow.The kitchen is quiet, warm sunlight pouring through the windows as I bend to put the cereal boxes away on the lower shelf.Behind me, I hear Maddox’s low growl, the kind of sound I’ve learned to recognize immediately. The sound of a man fighting with every inch of restraint he has left.“You’re doing that on purpose,” he rasps.I glance over my shoulder. “Doing what?”His eyes flick over my black leggings and beige tank top, dark and dangerous. His fists clench at his sides, jaw tight, chest heaving. Slowly, he prowls forward until he’s standing behind me, close enough that I feel the heat radiating from him.“You know exactly what,” he says. “Bending over in front of me like that.”My breath catches. His voice, low, reverent, reverberating right into my core.He presses one palm flat against the small of my back, possessive. His other hand curls loosely around my throat from behind, tilting my head gently back so he can whisper against my ear.“I need you, Ari. Right now.”The admission nearly buckles my knees.And God help me, I love it. I love how badly he wants me. How he doesn’t hide it or make me guess. How he’s barely holding it together, even now, in my sunlit kitchen on a Tuesday afternoon, surrounded by bags of boring groceries.He wants me all the time.And the worst part? I love it. I love being wanted like this.Like I’m not a burden. Like I’m not too much. Like I’m exactly enough.A few hours later, the kitchen smells like garlic and butter, the faint sizzle of pasta sauce filling the air as Maddox stands at the stove, stirring with surprising ease. I’m perched on the counter, legs dangling, glass of wine forgotten beside me as I watch him move around my small kitchen like he belongs here.And maybe he does.I tuck my hair behind my ear, studying him. The black t-shirt stretched across his shoulders, the way his tattoos move with every careful motion, the slight crease between his brows as he tastes the sauce and adjusts the heat.It shouldn’t feel this natural. But it does.“You’re staring,” he murmurs without looking up.I shrug. “You’re cooking.”He flashes a rare, soft smile. “I’ve had twenty years to think about the shit I’d do if I ever got out. Turns out, cooking for someone I give a damn about was high on the list.”The words land heavy. My chest constricts. And yet, it’s not fear that rises—it’s warmth.A second later, my phone buzzes with a text from Frankie.FrankieDante and I are just parking. See you in a minute. Can’t wait to meet your prison yard Prince Charming.I grin at the nickname she’s given him, looking up at Maddox. He’s chopping fresh basil, whistling and looking entirely too comfortable in my space.Something settles deep inside me.Except for the time Frankie briefly spotted him when she picked me up from the beach house, she hadn’t ever officially met him. I held off for two weeks as Maddox and I got used to coexisting—him starting up a new cybersecurity firm with several employees right off the bat… not suspicious —and me busy with my CPA clients. Truth be told, I was worried about what Frankie and Dante would think… which is silly, considering how they got together.at allThe sound of the doorbell snaps me out of my thoughts. My heart stutters as I glance at Maddox, but he only quirks a brow and wipes his hands on a kitchen towel, like this is any other day. Like this is normal.It’s not.Him meeting my best friend and her husband is a deal.big I open the door to find Frankie and Dante on the porch, arms full of wine and a cake box. Frankie immediately smirks when she sees me, but her eyes cut past me to Maddox, who’s leaning casually against the kitchen island, knife still in hand.“Oh my god,” she whispers under her breath as we step inside. “He really is Asher’s hotter, more dangerous twin.” Her eyes sparkle mischievously. “And I do mean dangerous.”Dante grunts behind her, his scowl deepening.Maddox walks to the front door, extending a hand like a gentleman. “Maddox Cross.”Frankie takes his hand, eyes narrowing slightly, reading him in that way only Frankie can. “Frankie,” she says. “This is Dante.”Dante nods stiffly, not offering his hand. “I know who you are.”Maddox’s smirk flickers but doesn’t fade. “Pleasure’s all mine.”The tension is thick, but Maddox? Maddox is smooth. He’s charming in that lethal, calculated way of his, but I notice the subtle shift when he glances at me, softening just enough for only me to notice.Soon, Frankie is laughing softly, helping me chop vegetables while Maddox moves seamlessly around the kitchen, preparing dinner like he’s been doing this for years. Dante lingers, arms crossed, tracking Maddox’s every move, but Maddox seems unbothered.“So,” Frankie says, leaning close while Dante is distracted watching Maddox. “He cooks, he cleans, and he looks like he’d kill for you. No notes.”I snort, cheeks warming.Maddox glances over his shoulder, catching me smiling, and I swear he stands just a little taller, like he knows exactly what’s being said.And maybe, just maybe, he does.Dante leans against the counter, watching Maddox like he’s waiting for him to slip up. I don’t blame him. He’s just as protective of Frankie—and thereby me—as Maddox is.Frankie nudges me with her hip. “You’re glowing.”I huff. “It’s just hot in here.”Her eyes flick to Maddox. “Right.”Dante says nothing, but his eyes haven’t left Maddox since he walked in. The tension is almost comical if it weren’t so nerve-racking.As dinner comes together, I find myself stealing glances at Maddox, at the way he quietly keeps track of me. He passes me a spoon when I need one without me asking. He pulls my chair out without comment. His fingers skim the small of my back when no one is looking.I can’t get enough of it—of being the center of his universe.I this—to be seen without having to say a damn word.neededFrankie notices. She always does. “You love him,” she says under her breath while we plate the pasta.“I— Frankie.”“You do. And you’re terrified.” Her voice softens. “You’ve never let anyone want you like this, have you?”My throat tightens. I say nothing, but she knows. She always knows.At the table, Maddox takes the seat beside me, thigh brushing against mine under the table like he’s claiming me. Every brush of contact feels deliberate. Possessive. And maybe I should push him away, but instead? I lean into it.Dante watches us like a man doing the math and realizing he doesn’t like the sum. I have to keep from laughing. He’s such an overprotective father figure, and I’m grateful to have him in my life. Plus, perhaps one day the two brooding men will be the best of friends. But for now, they at least seem to tolerate each other.Halfway through dinner, Frankie steers the conversation into safer waters—talking about work, about how Dante still snores like a chainsaw. Maddox plays along, tossing out dry comments here and there, but every so often, his hand finds mine beneath the table. Stroking. Teasing. Like he can’t help himself.And God help me, I don’t want him to stop.Frankie catches it, of course. Her brows lift like she’s about to call me out. “So, Maddox,” she says, swirling her wine, eyes sharp with challenge. “What are your intentions with my best friend?” Frankie asks, dead serious. “And please keep in mind that Dante and I watch a lot of true crime, and I’m disturbingly confident I could get away with murder.”I sputter. “Frankie!”She grins. “Relax, babe. I’m sure he’s great. But you know… just in case.”Dante doesn’t even flinch, just lifts his glass in agreement. “She’s not kidding. We live near a swamp. Bodies disappear there all the time.”“Oh my god,” I hiss, covering my face but feeling very well protected nonetheless.Maddox, to his credit, doesn’t blink. His lips twitch like he’s trying not to grin. “Noted.”Frankie leans back, eyes narrowed on him. “I’m serious, Maddox. We like you—for now. Screw this up and I’ll be the first one making sure you disappear without a trace.”Maddox’s smirk only deepens. “Understood. But just so we’re clear, I intend to keep her. For good.”Frankie nearly chokes on her wine. She shoots me a look across the table that says , and I give her a tight-lipped smile and a barely perceptible nod.he can’t be seriousDante exhales slowly. “Ari is family. Always has been. If you make her cry, we’ll be digging a hole in the swamp behind the house.”Then, after a beat, he adds, voice low and deliberate, “Asher knew that, too. That’s why he always looked nervous around me.”His tone is so casual it takes a second to register his words as a threat.Maddox’s thumb strokes against my wrist beneath the table, calm, amused even. “I like swamps,” he murmurs without missing a beat, but the glint in his eye promises he’s not worried.Frankie’s eyes widen like she wasn’t expecting Dante to go full mobster, but instead of backing down, Maddox just leans back, looking pleased and like my best friend and her husband didn’t just threaten him with murder multiple times.When dinner is over and we’re clearing the table, Maddox washes the pots and pans in the sink, eyes periodically following me like I’m the only thing that matters. Frankie notices too. She pulls me aside as we load the dishwasher.“You’re playing with fire,” she whispers.My stomach flips. “I know.”Her eyes soften. “But I’ve also never seen you happier.”I pull my lower lip between my teeth so that I don’t grin like a fool. “I am.”Pulling me in for a hug, she holds on to me for several seconds. “I bet the sex is incredible.”I cackle and push her away. Dante offers to clean up, but Maddox doesn’t budge from his place at the sink. I sip my wine and watch as Frankie and Maddox debate the best way to make garlic bread—apparently she had pointers for him from our meal tonight—and Dante stays close to his wife the whole time, watching Maddox with an unsure look.They leave around nine to pick Lucia up from Frankie’s mom’s house, and once they’re gone, I saunter over to Maddox to help with cleaning up the cooking mess.Maddox dries my cast iron pan while I lean over the counter to put the wineglasses away, and then he makes that low, growling sound again.“You lean over like that one more time,” he murmurs darkly, “and I’m going to bend you over this counter.”I swallow hard.The second I’m not holding glass, Maddox crowds me against the counter, his chest warm against my back. His hand slides around my waist, lips brushing the shell of my ear.“So, do you think your friends like me?” he asks, a trace of vulnerability tinging his question.“Frankie does. But I’m not sure about Dante.”“Yeah. I don’t say this often, but that guy is intimidating as fuck.”I snort. “He’s a big softie at heart. Just protective of me.”“So does this make us official?” he asks, kissing the back of my neck as I let my head fall back against his chest.“I thought we already were official,” I say, my voice a faux whine.“I want you, Ari. I want everything with you. I want the grocery shopping and waking up with you every morning. I want dinner with your friends and lunch with my parents. I’ll even tolerate Asher if he’s not a fucking asshole about it.”I laugh. “I want that, too.”We stay like that, pressed together, as his chin rests on my shoulder.Like we’re taking it all in together. And for once, the silence doesn’t feel like a weight, it feels like permission.But… what if it’s not enough? What if he gets bored, or at some point realizes his obsession was just because he was lonely in that cell?“What is it, little warrior?” His voice is quiet, but edged with something sharp, like he already knows the answer.How does he always know what I’m thinking?I close my eyes, pressing my back against his chest, letting the steady beat of his heart soothe me. “I’m worried I don’t know how to do this,” I admit, curling my fingers against his hands resting on my stomach.Maddox doesn’t hesitate. “Yeah, you do.”I turn slightly to glance at him over my shoulder, searching for some sort of reassurance in his eyes. “I don’t. I’ve always just… settled. Done what was expected. Been the good daughter. The easygoing girlfriend. The one who never needed too much. And even with Asher…” I trail off, heat rising in my cheeks. “Even with him, I never felt this close to him. Not even half. It’s terrifying, because I’ve never been able to trust anyone but myself. Yet… three weeks in with you and I feel like I’ve known you forever.”His jaw tics, but his thumb stays soft as it traces the edge of my jaw. His eyes search mine like he’s piecing it together, like he’s seeing every part of me that I try so hard to keep hidden.“That’s because you never held back with me.” His voice is low, steady, edged with something darker. “Not once.” His thumb presses gently against my pulse. “You’ve given me every version of you—the good, the scared, the stubborn. All of it. You haven’t played it safe, not for a second.”The words make me ache. It’s true. I’ve told Maddox more in these past few days than I’ve told anyone. About my fears, about wanting more, about the exhaustion of always bending myself into what everyone else needed.“I don’t want to be scared of wanting more,” I whisper, barely able to admit it out loud.He exhales through his nose, the sound rough. His hand slides up, curling around the back of my neck. “You think I wasn’t scared too? I lost everything, Ari. Lila. Elaine. My whole life. I went from having everything I ever wanted to existing in a small cell. And then I saw that picture of you, and it felt like some kind of impossible second chance, and all I could think was—I’ll ruin it. I’ll ruin you.”I blink hard, tears threatening. “Maddox…”“But I don’t care about ruining you anymore,” he continues, voice thick with something I’ve never heard from him before. Not anger. Not possession. Something closer to grief. “I want you too much. And I’m selfish enough to take you.”I shiver, the weight of his words crashing into me.“You don’t have to be scared,” he rasps. “Not with me. Take it. Take me. No one’s stopping you. Least of all me.”My throat burns. The vulnerability of it threatens to unmake me. But I don’t pull away. Instead, I lean into him, pressing my lips softly against his.And it’s not desperate this time.It’s not about lust or proving a point.It’s real.The kiss deepens slowly, like he’s letting me set the pace, like he’s putting his heart in my hands and daring me to break it.His fingers tangle gently in my hair, grounding me, anchoring me. When I shift around to face him, he lifts me up as I wrap my legs around his waist before exhaling hard against my mouth.Before pulling me closer like he’ll never let go.“I’ve got you now,” he murmurs, forehead pressed against mine. “All of you. Don’t you dare run.”I take a breath, shaky but certain. “I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.And somehow, for the first time in my entire life, I mean it.