by Lucy Monroe
“No, there was nothing.”
“So?”
“Do you think knowing I had no options makes me feel better? That I haven’t gone over those two seconds in my mind a million times, looking for a different outcome? There wasn’t one, but it didn’t matter. Not when his parents turned their PR machine on to the task of discrediting me. I guess they didn’t want anyone to know it was the mom’s fault.”
“She did not hit him with her car.”
Randi felt those words like a blow and had to look away from him. “No, she didn’t, but no child of four should have been on that street unaccompanied.” She looked back, her face tight with anger she would no longer hide, not out of misplaced compassion for the Madisons, people who had shown they had absolutely none for her. “The doctors said that if I’d been going the speed limit, he would be dead. His tiny body was no competition for even my eco-friendly subcompact.”
“He would not have been, no.” There was definitely a dark overtone in both Baz’s words and manner.
“The papers, news reports, people all over social media, they all took your attitude.”
“My attitude?” he asked.
“They believed it was all my fault. I must have been driving recklessly or not paying attention. The Madisons made sure that was the message being fed to every outlet. Mrs. Madison played the victim very well.”
“She was a victim, surely. Her child was in the hospital.”
She was going to be sick. She should have been prepared for this, but she wasn’t. “And that is why despite the police ruling it an unavoidable accident, despite screen shots and traffic cams that proved she was negligent, I said nothing. I knew she must be going through hell and I wasn’t taking her through more. Not even with the truth.”
“If she was negligent, she would have been charged.”
Unbelievable. Okay, they’d only slept together one night, but didn’t she deserve even a tiny bit more consideration than a complete stranger? “By that same argument, then I must have been innocent, right? After all, if I was the monster the Madisons painted me, wouldn’t they have taken me to civil court, even if the DA declined to prosecute?”
“That is a point, yes.”
Could he have been any more skeptical in his tone?
Randi was definitely regretting telling this piece of painful history to the man with the stony expression. “You still think it was my fault.”
“I did not say that.” But his attitude and the expression in his espresso eyes did.
“Would you please take me back to my apartment?”
“Does it matter so much what I think?”
“I’ve had my fill of being judged a monster when there was more than enough blame to go around.” She knew better than to open herself for more of the same.
She’d been a fool to think it was safe sharing one of her most painful secrets with a temporary sexual partner, regardless of his help in finding a home for the Kayla’s for Kids shelter.
“Are you going to do something about it?” he asked.
“As a matter of fact, I am. I have plans to set the record straight with the media.”
“People have already made up their minds, according to you. What difference will a press release make?”
“An interview, on national television, not a press release.” Which was overwhelming and scary to think about, not that she would offer that proof of more vulnerability to him. “I’ll get to tell my side, the truth.”
That was what was important. She had to remember that.
“Why would you put the family through that?”
Seriously? The family angle again? She supposed to a man so steeped in obligation toward family it made sense, but what about her? What about what her family had been through when she’d been vilified for behavior she’d never engaged in: reckless driving, inattention, not caring?
“You don’t think it’s fair?” she demanded skeptically. “After the media crucified me because of the story the Madisons fed them, I lost my almost fiancé, my scholarship and my position at the university. To achieve any measure of peace and anonymity in my life, I had to give up my last name and move away from my father and grandparents. Now the Madisons are trying to do it all over again. I’m not giving up another thing for their sensibilities.”
“What do you mean they’re trying to do it again? What are they doing?” he asked like the answer really mattered.
She wasn’t buying that bridge. Not again. But she didn’t mind telling him. It wasn’t a state secret. “Their best to keep the truth under wraps, to make me their scapegoat again.”
“Trying to find peace after such a tragedy is hardly making you the scapegoat,” he scoffed.
Was this really the man she’d shared her body with the night before? The same man who had worked so hard to find the best property for her without anything in it for him? “What would you call threatening to destroy my new life?”
“The attempt to protect his family by a desperate man.”
“Oh, my gosh, you don’t even know these people, but you’re their champion?”
He frowned, looking almost guilty. “It is clearly an untenable situation for everyone.”
“I guess I should be grateful you include me in that everyone.”
“It was a terrible time in your life. That accident cost you a great deal. I would have to be blind not to see that.”
“You think?”
His lips twisted with frustration. “Yes, I do. However, I do not think bringing it all back up in front of the national media, no less, is going to make your life better. It will certainly hurt a family that has already been through hell, especially their children. The young can be so cruel.”
She had firsthand experience with just how cruel adults could be. “And the hell I’ve been through?”
“Won’t disappear by opening yourself up to further comment and potential vilification.”
“You don’t think it matters if the truth comes out?”
“I don’t think it will help you, or them.” He reached across the console, cupping her cheek. “Don’t stir it all up again.”
She jerked her face away from touch that should not be comforting. “I’m not the one doing that.”
“Then who?”
“First it was a small article written for one of the online news media, nothing that really got a lot of attention, but then somehow Mr. Madison became aware of it, and before I knew what was happening, I was being trolled on the only social page I keep. Other articles started popping up, all with a heavy slant to what my supposed carelessness had cost the Madison family. It was five years ago all over again, only this time Mr. Madison came to me personally. He threatened me, threatened to get me fired.”
“He didn’t realize you work for your sister?” Baz sounded disgusted by such incompetence.
It would have been funny in another situation.
“No. We’ve never shared the same last name. Only the people closest to us even know we’re sisters.”
“And you threatened him back,” Baz guessed, proving he had no inkling of who Randi really was.
“No. Not at all. I told him to leave, but he wouldn’t. He had some goon with him, a big man who wouldn’t let me leave, either.”
“This goon, did he restrain you?” Now Baz sounded furious.
She couldn’t imagine why.
“He and Mr. Madison. I screamed. Carl Madison slapped me. I was terrified. He said he was going to make people believe I had abused the children I worked with. He said what was left of my life wasn’t going to be worth living when he was done with me.”
“That is not...” His voice trailed off, the expression on Baz’s face murderous. “Did you file charges for assault?”
“Not at first. I was so used to feeling guilty, to believing the Madison family needed pro
tecting after what had happened to Jamie, that’s the name of the boy, I just broke down. The goon threw me on the floor, and after a few more vicious threats that made me wonder if my life was seriously in danger, they left.”
“And then?”
“And then I went home.”
“But somehow you got from there to here.”
“That was Kayla. I was still shaken up the next day when we had a meeting about Kayla’s for Kids. She pried the whole story out of me, and for the first and only time, someone learned about the horrible day without judging me a monster.”
“I do not think you are a monster.”
She wasn’t touching that denial. Randi knew what she’d seen in his eyes. “She and Andreas convinced me to press charges. Not that it did much good. Mr. Madison has a whole bevy of expensive lawyers on his side. He got a plea deal that allowed for a misdemeanor, settled with a fine. Andreas was adamant I take out a restraining order after that.”
“So you did.”
“Yes. Andreas may be a shark like you, but he cares about people’s feelings and he was livid about the way I’d been treated. He’s the one who set up the interview on the morning talk show.”
“Your hero.” There was no mistaking the sardonic tone to Baz’s voice.
“Yes, finally I had one.”
“Not your own father?”
“Dad is a high school English teacher. He had to change schools after what happened. His principal was one of the people who thought I was a monster and he let Dad know it. No, my dad never doubted me. Neither did my grandparents, but none of them could help me. Not in the face of the Madison wealth and influence.”
She swallowed against the tightening in her throat and blinked back tears. “That’s not to say they didn’t help me at all. Dad made sure I got into another school. They all pitched in to help support me while I made the move to Sacramento. It was my dad’s idea to change my last name. I took his mom’s maiden name, but couldn’t get a job until all the paperwork cleared the courts and I got my new identification.”
“And then there was your lost scholarship.”
“Yes. My grandparents joined with Dad to keep me in school. I worked, too, but I never would have gotten my degree in social work without them.”
“Do you think you chose to help children because you felt guilty about what happened to Jamie?” he asked, for once not sounding judgmental, just curious.
“No. I know exactly why I got into the field I did and it had little to nothing to do with what happened five years ago.”
“What, then?”
“You’ve gotten all the confidences you’re going to get out of me.”
“Do not be like that. I told you, I do not judge you.”
No, he’d said he didn’t think she was a monster and Randi hadn’t believed him. “Believe it or not, your opinion makes very little difference to me.”
“I do not believe, cariña.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? You think because you shared this burden we are now going to go our separate ways like we never met?”
Yep, that was the plan. “You think the sex was good enough to justify having more with a woman you believe responsible for a small boy ending up in the hospital. I don’t have to agree with that sentiment.”
“What I think is that you are unnecessarily defensive about something that has caused you enough pain. Do not allow the sharing of it to cut off the pleasure we find in one another’s company.”
That was not what she was doing, was it? No. “You defended them. I’m the woman you slept with, but when I told you, your whole concern was for the Madisons.”
“I apologize that is how it seemed. It is not the case. You matter to me, Miranda. Your feelings matter to me and our time together is not over.”
“You don’t make any sense.” But hearing she mattered soothed the rough edges of the wounds he’d inflicted with his attitude.
“I make perfect sense. I told you this was no one-night stand.”
“Even after what you just heard?”
“Especially after that. Right now you could use another friend and we are good together. A tragedy in your past does not change that.”
Did he really believe that? “You defended people who did everything they could to destroy my life. How is that being my friend?”
“Do not hold my ability to see both sides of this situation against me. Especially when it was your own compassion toward the Madisons that allowed you to remain silent so long.”
Okay, maybe he had a point. “You’re sure you see both sides?”
“Do not doubt it.”
She pulled her seat belt across her body and snapped it in the lock. “I’ll work on the not doubting thing, but right now could you please take me back to my apartment?”
“If that is what you truly desire.”
“It is.”
CHAPTER FIVE
BAZ IGNORED MIRANDA’S obvious hints that he needn’t park the car, but could just drop her off in front of the apartment complex.
Instead, he found a spot under a light in the visitor section of the parking lot and turned off the engine.
She unclipped her seat belt, her focus on the dark night out the window. “I’m not really in the mood for more company.”
“I will walk you up.” He’d work on her desire to get rid of him once he was in her apartment. He’d messed up spectacularly when he’d allowed his natural inclination to defend his family rise to the surface.
It wasn’t like him to make a mistake like that, but when he was around Miranda, Basilio found himself showing more of the man who lived inside the corporate shark’s body than with anyone else. Even the family with which he was currently damn angry.
With the exception of his nephew and niece. They continued to be the innocent victims in a terrible situation that should never have had the cost to Miranda’s life it had, but should definitely not be allowed to destroy theirs, either.
“That’s not necessary.”
“I think it is.”
She rolled her eyes, but didn’t argue further. However, for the first time that evening, she did not wait for him to come around and open her car door, but got out of the Mercedes immediately, closing her door with more force than necessary.
She was angry. And he did not blame her. As far as she knew, he had defended a complete stranger over the woman who had shared his bed with so much passion the night before.
If her story was true—and despite the fact he’d only known her a short while and his family was, well...his family, he believed her—then she had good reason to despise his brother and his sister-in-law. Miranda had taken the high road five years before, protecting people who had been indisputably vile to her when she had shown them nothing but compassion.
Regardless, however, Basilio had not been lying when he told her that doing the interview would not serve her. The media furor was dying down and stirring it up again would do her no favors, no matter what the truth was.
Basilio could easily verify Miranda’s accusations against his brother. Police records were not something that could be dismissed with a plausible story by Carlos. Which meant Basilio’s older brother had assaulted Miranda and made heinous threats. He had not simply begged her to let things die down and give their family peace, as both Gracia and Carlos claimed.
Basilio was beyond angry at the prospect he’d been lied to by his family, but he was even more furious about what his brother had done to Miranda. He would be calling Carlos later and letting him know just how unacceptable his behavior had been, but right now it was time to mend fences with Miranda.
Because he could not alter his course in trying to convince Miranda to cancel the interview, though. Not for her sake, and not for the sake of Basilio’s family. While the adults might not deserve his protect
ion, his innocent niece and nephew did. And while they were called Madisons, the Perez name was at stake, as well.
“You’re awfully quiet now.” She sounded suspicious.
He could not blame her. He did, in fact, have plans and she was an intelligent woman.
“Am I?” he asked as they exited the elevator on her floor. He preferred the stairs, but she’d made it clear she intended to take the conveyance.
“You had plenty to say earlier.”
“Too much if I’ve offended you so much you no longer want my company.” He’d been so shocked by Miranda’s claim the accident happened because of Tiffany’s apparent neglect to Jamie’s welfare, he’d gone into family protection mode immediately.
Shown too much of himself to the woman whom he found it too easy to do that with.
At first, he hadn’t even wanted to believe Tiffany had been at fault, but he’d come around fast. Miranda simply was not a dishonest woman, which made her vulnerable to people like Basilio’s brother, who did not care if they had to use lies to protect an unpleasant secret.
It made sense of the fact that Basilio never saw Tiffany with the children without the nanny. He’d thought it rather affected that the nanny even accompanied her on visits to her mother’s home. Now he wondered if that was because no one trusted her to watch her own children with proper diligence.
And what did that say about the unleashing of the Madison PR machine on the hapless nineteen-year-old Miranda?
Nothing good, that was for damn sure.
Miranda stopped outside her door and turned to face Basilio, but she made no effort to meet his gaze. “I’ll say good-night now. Maybe you can call me tomorrow.” She didn’t sound like she thought there was even a remote chance of that happening.
And she was right, but not for the reasons this beautiful, vulnerable and entirely too compassionate woman thought. “I’ll see you inside.” He had every hope of being there in the morning.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”