Chapter 5

Will opens his eyes to a familiar throb in his head, only to quickly close them again. A finger nail scraps its way from his right ear, down his pecs, past his stomach, landing on his groin. A hopeful idea crossed his mind, before being squashed down, by the memories of last night filtering in. He grabs the obtrusive hand that had been drawing patterns around his front, and brought it to his lips. Slowly he kisses her knuckles, before placing the hand across her own stomach. Without a second thought, he stands up and pulls on a pair of green sweatpants that were tucked in a drawer, and walks out of the room.

He finds his way to the dining room, sits in his usual spot, taking the newspaper waiting on the table into his hands. Skimming the titles, he finds that him or a reference to him has been plastered all over the damn thing. Frustrated, he flips to the sports page, hoping the pure hatred of the activities will take his mind off of his most recent mistake. That seems to be what his recent life has become. One. Giant. Mistake.

The glorious familiar sound of heels clicking across the ground fill the room, causing him to peer above his paper, just wanting a glance of her. God help him. How did he turn into such a fuck up? He lusted after a minor, who was doomed to leave him. Then out of pure self loathing, he hurt her. AND then, he decided to rip his own fucking heart out and sleep with a red headed rat, whose obsession with him bordered insane. Not the type of insane he found attractive, but the "someone admit this crazy now," type of insane.

Maddi's eyes were glued to the floor in front of her as she made her way to the kitchen. She was already dressed for the day, unlike him. Her curled hair was pinned up in a messy bun, locks dangled around her ears and down her neck. As per usual, she wore one of her famous ridiculously short dresses- a purple lace thing, with a black ribbon which wrapped around her waist and tied in the back. Adding to the ensemble was a professional black jacket, the sleeves rolled up to her just under her elbows and a pair black stilettos which tied like a ballerina's pointe shoes, the bow ending halfway up the back of her calves.

Will pulls the newspaper back over his eyes, and once out of sight, places his head upon the table- officially giving up. He hears the fleeting sound of clicking heels and the closing of what he assumes is the kitchen "in" door. An abundance of curse words filtered though his brain, condemning his poor choices once more. How did his life come to this? He is one of the richest men in the entire world. He is even rated one of the most handsome men in the world. His business thrived. His workers adored him. He is creative. He is smart. He had his whole life going for him. Had being the key word. Now he is twenty eight and is going through a midlife crisis. Was he old enough for this?

The familiar clicking returns and draws near him. He doesn't need to look to know that food and his usual black coffee was placed before him. Maddi places a plate in front of a chair beside him, before clicking her way to the other end of the table and sitting down. No, he was definitely not too old for a midlife crisis he decides, as he folds up the paper and places it to the other side of him. Will looks across the table towards Maddi- her head is down and she uses her fork to push around her food. He would give a penny…a dime… half of his fortune (possibly all) to know what she was filing in her head. Her head lifts up for a second and he sees her face for the first time this morning. Her makeup is done to its usual perfection. Maddi's green eyes meet his. Will's world suddenly stops.

He takes in each emotion that phases through her no longer bright eyes- anger, despair, then a prominent disgust. That last one took all of the air from his chest. Quickly, Will breaks eye contact and brings his hand to his heart, willing it to work again.

A door opens and the sound of soft padding on the floor comes towards him. The chair beside him is drawn out. He looks up to see its occupant. Ellie apparently took it upon herself to wear his shirt from last night and do nothing to calm her bed hair. She smiles at him, before turning her eyes towards the other table occupant, "Willy-kins, I didn't know you had a daughter."

A snort comes from across the table.

"She is a business partner."

"Is she always here this early, baby?" Ellie scratches her nails across his forearm. Will does everything in his power to not grab her by the arm and throw her out of his house.

"I live here," Her delicate French accent barely makes its way towards the couple.

"Honey bear?"

"She does."

"But why, Willy-Poo?"

Will lifts his eyes back to Maddi. Her eyes are glued on him, an eyebrow lifts, egging him to answer Ellie's question. Daring him to say something wrong.

"She is seventeen. Her father, who was a friend of mine, died."

Suddenly, Ellie springs from the table and forces herself into his lap and wraps her arms around his neck, "Oh my William, you took her in. You're so strong and brave."

This time it is a giggle that filters through the air and down the table.

Will stands up, pushing Ellie from his lap and replies, "I am neither of those."

He makes his way into the kitchen and grabs the first alcoholic beverage in sight. This time it is whisky, not rum. Clicking heels follow him into the kitchen. He hears a plate drop into the sink, and then the clicks make its way towards him. He takes a swig of his drink and leans his back against the counter. Will looks up to see Maddi in front of him, her arms are crossed and her eyes are narrowed at the bottle in his hand.

"It's eight o'clock, Will."

He takes another drink.

"Does that even qualify as day drinking yet?"

He takes another drink.

"Will?"

He looks at one of the fallen curls from her hair. Lemon…nothing. His hands begin to itch. Quickly, he realizes he is not wearing gloves. He is not wearing a shirt. He is not wearing shoes. He takes another drink.

"Please," Madison says, taking a step towards him, offering her hand for the bottle. Will hands it to her, after all, when it comes to her, he doesn't have any "will power." She places it back in the liquor cabinet to the right of him. He turns towards her, his side now balanced against the counter. She mirrors him and they both cross their arms. She smells the heavy liquor on his breath and he smells the candy on hers. Never did he think he would be in this position. Not the being attracted to her. He actually planned on it for later down the road. In no means did he ever believe a relationship would come from it, however. In his mind, he used to think that she should would go out and adventure. One day she would return. They would laugh and become friends once more. Then, all feelings would return and he would fall in love with her. She would fall in love with someone her own age. Possibly another entrepreneur. So, he would love her from the shadows. Helping her whenever she needed him. Maybe one day she would have her own kids. And if he were lucky, he would get to be a part of their lives as well. That is how his life was going to be. Secretly loving her. Helping her find happiness in whatever form it took. Placing her life above his. After all, she was his life. But now? He never planned on her loving him. Let alone at this age. She was never meant to return his hopeless fantasies.

William Wonka fucked up.

"Will?" he likes his name falling from her lips far more than any sane man should.

"Madison?" Her name is almost a prayer on his lips. A prayer to go back and fix his mistakes. His very drunken mistakes. This is why he didn't like to drink, but as of now, it has become his favorite past time.

"Madame Johnson is waiting for you," her accent becomes heavy and reality hits Will. He doesn't reply. Nor does he attempt to return to his scantily clad guest, just yet. He does however, lean in towards Madison. Taking one of the curls by her right ear, he pushes it away from her face and leans in. His lips barely brush the skin on her ear, but he can still feel the sudden heat radiating from her.

"I am sorry," He whispers before walking away from her and out of the kitchen. Will makes his way to Ellie and offers a hand to her. He takes her back to his room, where she gets dressed. Then, he walks her to the door, as any gentleman should. Will bids her a farewell and she promises to call.

A week or two pass and Madison's latest favorite game becomes avoiding Will. She no longer dined with him. She no longer visited him during his office hours. After the first couple of days, he goes out of his way to hopefully run into her. Yes, it is a large estate, but it shouldn't be impossible to miss someone, unless they were making a point to hide from you. Will returned to drinking shortly after.

Will and Foster sit in his office on what Will thought was a Thursday. Foster nursed a glass of scotch, while Will held the bottle in his hand, knowing it is to be drained that night. Probably by himself. Again.

As per usual, when the bottle has reached past midpoint, thoughts of his French wonder would come to mind.

"How is she?" Will suddenly asks.

"Who?"

"Madison."

Foster snorts at this, "You bloody live with her. Shouldn't you know?"

"No, she has been avoiding me. She has a good reason to."

"A good reason?" Foster outwardly laughs at that, "You're ridiculous. The girl is in love with you, Will."

"She shouldn't be," Will replies, drinking from the bottle gripped in his hand, "I'm old. I'm an asshole. I'm a pervert."

"Will? A pervert? Really, man?" Foster laughs again, "She has grown into quite a beautiful young woman. You are too innocent to be a pervert. You're worst thought about her is that you want to hold her hand."

"No."

"No?" Foster puts on a false serious face, before it splits back into a grin, "You think about hugging her. That's probably PG-13 for you, right?"

"No."

"Will, come on," Foster says, "What is your worst thought? I promise I won't think less of you. Everyone one is a bloody pervert."

Will's cheeks burn red. He had many thoughts that another would say was the worst, but the number one awful that was that, "I want her to love me."

Foster almost howls with laughter.

"It's not funny," Will says, defensively, "It's wrong. She is seventeen. I am twenty eight. It is so very wrong. There is eleven and a half years between us. It normal for her to have a puppy love for me. Girls feel that way about older men in their life. School girl crushes are a norm. It is wrong, however, for the man to return the feelings. And God help me, I return them with eager favor. I want her to love me more that I want the oxygen that I breathe. More than I want the candy ideas to form in my head. More than I could ever want chocolate. I want her to love me, because I am so fucking in love with her. Yes, I get a terrible thought or two about showing her how much I love her, but then I also get other thoughts. I get thoughts about marrying her. About having kids with her. About sitting at our bloody dining room table feeding each other off of our own forks. I get these thoughts about her as if I could live a normal life with her. As if I could have a healthy relationship with her. As if I could court her. Take her out on dates. Kiss her in the rain. Be her Valentine. Hold her at night. Openly telling her I love her. These thoughts. Wanting to have an adult relationship with a child is perverted."

"She won't be a child forever."

"Yeah, well, when that happens, I will have grey hair. I'll be an old man and she will be beautiful."

They are abruptly interrupted by the sound of the office phone ringing. Will picks it up. A familiar high pitched nasally voice is on the other end, "Willy-kins, I am pregnant."

Reviews are LOVE :)