by Lucy Monroe
Less understandable, but not nearly as upsetting, was the presence of two of her father’s other high-level managers in the remaining chairs on that side of the table. Her father’s PA sat to his left, with an empty chair beside her.
The final man at the table had a powerful presence and a familiar face, but in her current state of highly guarded stress, Maddie couldn’t place him.
Everyone had a stack of papers in front of them. It took only the briefest glance to see what they were: printed-out copies of the news stories Maddie had seen earlier on her smartphone. Underneath them was an individual copy for each person in the room of the actual tabloid the original story had run in.
Vik’s pile was different. It had what looked like a contract on top. Looking around the table, Maddie realized everyone else had a copy of that as well, but on the bottom of their pile—the stapled corner was the only thing visible in the other piles.
She looked at her father and gave him the sardonic expression she’d been using for years to mask her vulnerability. “I don’t suppose it occurred to you to discuss this with me privately before bringing in a think tank.”
“Sit down, Madison.” He didn’t even bother to respond to her comment.
Which should neither surprise, nor hurt. So why did it do both?
She waited a count of three before obeying his brusque order, deliberately ignoring the stack of papers in front of her. “I assume we’ve already drafted a letter demanding a retraction?”
When her father didn’t answer, she stared pointedly at his media fixer.
“Is it likely your ex-lover will recant his commentary?” the fixer asked in a flat tone.
“First, he was never my lover. Second, he doesn’t have to recant his lies for us to sue the tabloid for libel.” Though her chances of winning the suit weren’t high without Perry’s honesty.
“I am not in the habit of wasting time or resources on a hopeless endeavor,” her father said.
“The story is out there and that can’t be changed,” she agreed. “But that doesn’t mean we leave Perry’s lies unchallenged.”
Her father’s eyes were chips of blue ice. “If you wish to challenge your ex-lover’s lies, you may do so, but that is not my concern.”
“You don’t believe the stories?” she asked with a pained incredulity she couldn’t quite hide.
“What I believe is not the issue at hand.”
“It is for me.” There were only two people in that room whose opinion Maddie cared about.
Her father’s and Viktor Beck’s, no matter how much she might wish that wasn’t the case.
Her gaze shifted to Vik, but nothing from the stern set of his square jaw to the obscure depths of his espresso-brown eyes revealed his thoughts.
There had been a time when he might have tried to encourage her with a half smile or even a wink, but those days were gone. There’d been no softening in his demeanor toward her since her first trip home after going away to university.
And while that might be her own fault, she didn’t have to like it.
Her father cleared his throat. “Those tawdry stories may have precipitated this meeting, but they are not the reason for it.”
Maddie’s attention snapped back to her only remaining family. “What do you mean?”
“The issue we are here to address is your unacceptable notoriety, Madison. I will not sit by while you attempt to rival other heiresses for worldwide infamy.”
“I don’t.” Even when Maddie had tried to court her father’s attention by gaining that of the media, she hadn’t gone that far.
Okay, so she and Romi were known for their participation in political rallies of the liberal variety, which included a well-publicized sit-in protesting cuts in local school funding. That Maddie had gone further, bungee jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge with five others and unfurling a giant banner that read Go Green or Go Home, was beside the point.
There were videos online of her bungee jumping in less politically motivated and slightly more risky circumstances. The snowboarding had been a total failure, but she’d always loved downhill skiing and learning to jump had been fantastic. Of course, only her tumbles made it into the media.
But she hadn’t done a thing to get herself in the papers in over six months. Not since hitting the headlines with a nighttime adventure in skydiving that had resulted in her hospitalization with a hairline fracture to her pelvis.
Her father had not only ignored her exploit, but he’d also ignored Maddie’s injury. And not only had he refused to take her phone calls from the hospital, but he’d also made it clear, through his PA, that Maddie was not welcome at the family mansion for her recovery.
She’d been forced to hire a nurse to help during the weeks of her limited mobility. Romi had offered to stay with her, but Maddie refused to take advantage.
“Am I to understand you didn’t read Madison in on the contents of this contract?” Vik asked, unexpected disapproval edging his deep tone. “Do you actually expect her to agree?”
“She’ll agree.” Her father gave her a stern glare. “Or I will cut her out of my life completely.”
The words were painful enough to hear, but the absolute conviction in her father’s voice stabbed straight through Maddie’s carefully cultivated facade to the genuine and all-too-vulnerable emotions underneath.
“Over this?” she demanded, waving her hand toward the printed articles. “It’s not true!”
“You will not continue to drag my name and that of my company through the mud, Madison.”
“I don’t do that.” While she’d managed a certain level of media notoriety, it had never before been because of anything even remotely like the lies Perry had spewed to the tabloids.
Her father began reading the headlines out loud and weak tears burned the back of her eyes. Maddie refused to give in to them, wishing she could be as genuinely emotionless as the steel-gray-haired man flaying her with other people’s words.
“I told you, he lied.”
“Why would he?” the media fixer asked, sounding interested in an almost clinical way.
“For money. For revenge.” Because she’d turned him down one too many times and compounded that by refusing his latest request for a loan. “I don’t know, but he lied.”
How many times did she have to say it?
“It is time for definitive measures to be taken,” Jeremy said, as if she hadn’t spoken.
“On that at least, we can agree, beginning with the demand for a retraction. I can do my own interview.” Even though she hated that kind of direct contact with the media.
She considered offering the ultimate sacrifice of integrating her Maddie Grace life with that of socialite Madison Archer in order to combat the negative image that clearly concerned her father.
Jeremy dismissed her offer with a slicing gesture. “I believe I’ve made it clear that the current scandal is not my primary concern.”
“What is your concern?” she asked, confused.
“The capricious lifestyle that has resulted in your unacceptable and notorious reputation.”
“You want me to come work for AIH?” she asked with zero enthusiasm and even less belief.
The last time the issue of Archer International Holdings had come up, her father had made it clear he no longer harbored dreams of her one day taking over.
His harsh bark of laughter was all the answer she needed. “Absolutely not.”
“You want me to get a job somewhere else?” She could do that.
She preferred using her education as a volunteer teacher’s aide, but if it would help her relationship with her father, she would get a paying job—which hopefully wouldn’t conflict with her volunteering schedule.
More derisive laughter fell from her father’s lips. “Do you really think any reputable charity or business would hire you right now?”
Heat climbed up her neck, ending in a very rare blush. She’d become adept at hiding her emotions, even suppressing her blushe
s of embarrassment a long time ago.
But suddenly, she realized that if it did become known that Madison Archer was Maddie Grace, the school might be forced to disallow Maddie’s volunteering. All because a man she’d thought was a friend had turned out to be a lying, manipulative, opportunistic user.
“He wants you to get married,” Vik informed her, no indication in his tone or demeanor that he was joking.
Her father did not jump in with a denial, either.
For the first time, she looked around the room to see how the other occupants were reacting. Her father’s media fixer and PA were both busy on their tablets, ignoring the conversation now, or giving a pretty good pretense of doing so.
One of his managers was looking at her with the type of speculation that left Madison feeling dirty, but the fact he had the articles about her spread out in front of him could have something to do with that, too.
The other manager was reading through the paperwork and the man who Maddie did not know was looking at her father, his expression assessing.
Vik’s expression was enigmatic as always.
She met her father’s gaze again, finding nothing there but implacable resolve. “You want me to get married.”
“Yes.”
“Who?” she asked, unhappily certain she already had an inkling.
“One of these four men.” Her father indicated Vik, the two other managers and the man she did not know. “You know Viktor, of course, and I am sure you remember Steven Whitley.” Jeremy nodded toward a manager she was fairly certain had been divorced once already and was nearly twice her age.
Maddie found herself acknowledging both men with a tip of her own head in some bizarre ritual of polite behavior. Or maybe it was just the situation that was so bizarre.
He indicated the manager whose look had given her the willies. “Brian Jones.”
His expression was benign now, almost pitying.
“I thought you were engaged,” she said, her voice almost as tight as her throat. But that couldn’t be helped.
Hadn’t Maddie met his fiancée at the last Christmas party?
“Are you?” her father asked, annoyance clear in his tone. “Miss Priest?”
His PA looked up from her tablet with a frown. “Yes, sir?”
“Jones is engaged.”
“Is he?” Miss Priest didn’t sound concerned. “He is not married.”
“But I will be.” Brian stood. “I don’t believe I’ll be needed for the rest of this meeting, if you’ll excuse me, sir?”
“Did you read the contract?” her father demanded.
“I did.”
“And you are still leaving?”
“Yes, sir.”
A measure of respect shone in her father’s eyes even as he frowned. “Then go.” He nodded toward the stranger on the other side of Maddie as if the introductions had not been interrupted by the defection of one of his candidates. “Maxwell Black, CEO of BIT.”
Maxwell smiled at her, magnetism that might actually rival Vik’s exuding from him. “Hello, Madison. It’s good to see you again.”
He wasn’t overtly sexual, but there was a vibe to him that made Maddie wrap her arms protectively around herself. This man carried power around him the same way Vik did, but with a predatory edge she hadn’t experienced from her father’s heir apparent.
Then, she’d never been his business rival.
“I don’t believe we’ve met?” She forced her arms to fall to her sides.
“I saw you at the Red Ball last February.”
She remembered going to the charity event that raised money for research into heart disease, but she didn’t remember seeing him.
“I would have remembered.”
“I’m glad to hear you say so.” His teeth flashed in a blinding white smile. “But I meant what I said. I saw you there. We were not introduced.”
“Oh.”
Her father cleared his throat in that disapproving way he had, but if he expected Maddie to say it was a pleasure to meet the man—under these circumstances—he didn’t know her very well.
But then that had been her problem most of her life, hadn’t it?
CHAPTER TWO
THE MORNING HAD GONE according to Viktor’s plans so far, but the spark of temper in Madison’s brilliant blue eyes threatened to derail it.
If Jeremy had evinced even one iota of the concern Viktor knew the older man felt for his daughter’s current predicament, she would be reacting very differently. But then if father and daughter got along perfectly, or even very well, Viktor’s own plans would by necessity be very different.
“You know, I never even entertained the fantasy that you called me to help me, to take my side for once, to protect me because I mattered to you.” The beautiful redhead offered the emotionally laden words in a flat tone Viktor almost envied.
She would be one hell of a poker player.
She was lying, though. Madison wouldn’t have shown up if she didn’t think her father would help her.
“You never were a child taken with fairy tales,” Jeremy said.
Viktor could have reined in the older man’s prideful idiocy, but that wouldn’t further his own agenda. However, he felt an unexpected pang of guilt at Madison’s barely there flinch and flash of pain in the azure depths of her eyes.
She recovered quickly, her expression smooth—almost bored. “No, that was always Mom’s department. She lived under the fallacy that you cared about us. I know better.”
It was Jeremy’s turn to flinch and he wasn’t as fast at hiding his reaction as his daughter, but then he had to be in shock. Madison didn’t go for the jugular like that. In fact, in all the arguments between the tycoon and his daughter Viktor had been privy to, he’d never heard Madison use her mother’s memory against her father before.
No triumph at the emotional bloodletting showed on Madison’s porcelain features.
Instead, she looked like she wanted nothing more than to get up and walk away. The fact she stayed in her seat was proof the heiress might be criminally flagrant in her personal life, but she wasn’t stupid.
She knew her father well enough to be aware that Jeremy’s arsenal of threats wasn’t empty.
“You have five minutes.” Madison’s words verified she did indeed realize her father had more encouragement to lay on the table, but also that she had little patience in waiting to find out what it was.
Color washed over Jeremy’s face. “Excuse me?”
“She wants the other two prongs to the pitchfork,” Viktor informed his boss.
Jeremy’s scowl said he knew that’s what she’d meant, but he didn’t like the time limit or implied ultimatum that Madison would get up and leave if it wasn’t met.
“Pitchfork?” Black asked.
Viktor could have answered, but he didn’t. Giving Maxwell Black any kind of information wasn’t on his agenda for the day. Viktor had ignored the presence of the other candidates at the table as superfluous, and planned to continue to do so.
Madison wasn’t so reticent. “Jeremy never enters a fight he isn’t sure he can win. To that end, he stacks the deck. He’ll have three scenarios in the offing, none of which will I want to eventuate.”
“You call your father by his first name?” Black asked.
Madison flicked a meaning-laden glance in the tycoon’s direction. “As he pointed out, I’m the not the one in the family to wallow in sentimental fantasy.”
What she didn’t say was that until that morning, Madison had called Jeremy Archer Father and sometimes even Dad. That she would no longer do so could be taken from her words as a given.
No question that the company president had seriously messed up in his approach to his daughter.
Viktor might have suggested the current course to protect AIH’s interests and future, but he would not have blindsided Madison with it during a meeting with strangers.
He’d been angry when he realized Jeremy hadn’t even bothered to brief his daughter abou
t the meeting’s agenda before her arrival. She might be flighty and prone to inauspicious, risky behavior, but she deserved more respect than that.
Viktor had no doubts that Jeremy would ultimately get what he wanted, not least of which because Viktor would make it happen.
However he had a nascent suspicion that the personal cost for that success might be higher for Jeremy than the president of Archer International Holdings anticipated.
Madison flicked a glance at the Cartier watch on her wrist. “Your time starts now, Jeremy.”
“Golden Chances Charter School.”
“What about it?” Madison asked with caution, the barest crack in her calm facade finally showing.
“Over the last three years, you have donated tens of thousands of dollars from your Madison Trust income to school improvements and projects.”
“I am aware.”
But Viktor hadn’t been. He began to wonder what else he didn’t know about Madison.
Jeremy’s eyes, the only feature truly like his daughter’s, reflected subtle triumph. “The school’s zoning is under scrutiny.”
“It wasn’t as of yesterday.”
“Things change.”
“I see.” Madison glanced pointedly down at her watch.
“Are you pretending that does not matter to you?”
“No. You have two more minutes.”
Viktor was impressed. Madison would have done a better job negotiating a recent deal with a Japanese conglomerate than the project manager they’d sent to Asia.
Jeremy frowned. “Ramona Grayson.”
“What about her?”
Viktor would be crossing his legs protectively if that tone and look had been directed at him.
“Her father is a drunk,” Jeremy pointed out with well-known derision toward a man Madison had made no bones about considering a second father.
“And mine is a conscienceless bastard. I guess we both lost in the masculine parent lottery, though given a choice I’d pick Harry Grayson. His emotions might be pickled with alcohol, but at least he has them.”
Viktor had seen Madison angry. He’d seen her hurt, embarrassed and even seriously disappointed. He had never seen her this coldly furious.