by Lucy Monroe
Both men, who had a clearly more cynical view of humanity than the sisters, had expressed caution about Randi telling her story in such a way.
“No.” In profile, Baz’s jaw looked hewn from granite. “I believe if you keep this story going, while you are bound to find supporters, you will end up on the receiving end of more hate and cruelty. It’s unlikely anyone who has written about you in the past will reverse their stand.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“Tell me this. Do you think the Madisons will sit back and accept your version of events?” Baz asked, rather than answered. Maybe his question was the answer.
“But I have proof.” The same proof she’d refused to go public with five years ago out of compassion for what the family was already going through.
“And they have a PR machine. You said so yourself.”
“This time I have someone on my side who will help me fight back.” More than one someone. She had her sister. She had Andreas. And Randi’s father and grandparents had always stood up with her.
They just hadn’t had the power and influence to do it with any real effect.
“You cannot expect that of me.” Baz sounded almost panicked, or as panicked as Mr. Cool-Shark-Businessman was likely to get. “I will not be in Portland indefinitely.”
“I wasn’t talking about you.” But now she knew that he would not be one of the people in her corner. And that was fine.
She hadn’t expected anything else. Not really. Hope? Well, that was a drug she knew better than to indulge in.
“Andreas?” Baz asked.
“Yes.” Among others. “He’s my brother by marriage and he told me I’m the family he chose. He’s big on loyalty to family that deserves it, like his wife and me.”
“He can’t prevent the internet trolls from coming out of the woodwork, or the less scrupulous paparazzi from hunting you down.”
“Maybe they’ll attack the Madisons this time.”
“Is that what you really want?”
No, but... “They deserve it! They destroyed my life.”
“The parents, maybe. But the children?” Baz pressed on with that ruthlessness he’d warned her about. “Do you want little Jamie attacked at school because of something his mother did? Isn’t it bad enough he has a mother who could neglect him so shamefully?”
“I... Look... It’s not...” It was no good. Randi had been ignoring the impact her interview might have on the Madisons’ children on purpose. Knowing if she thought about it, she’d never be able to go through with the interview. “I don’t want to hurt Jamie, or his sister.”
“Then you cannot do the interview.”
“But what about me?” she asked painfully. “What about my life? My family? It’s started all over again already. I’m getting awful things posted about me online, news articles full of lies written about the incident five years ago. I can’t just move away and change my name again. There’s too much interest in Andreas and Kayla. There will always be a reporter interested in the story if I don’t tell my side.”
“If you tell your side, you’ll cause a furor of interest, and the story will live much longer with the truth of Tiffany’s shameful neglect. There is another option, you know?”
“No, I don’t know.”
“We can change the story entirely. What if I could convince the Madisons to not only sign a gag order for future commentary on the incident, but also to issue a press release saying they have never blamed you for the tragic, unavoidable accident? If I could ensure their PR machine would not only leave you alone, but also turn their attention toward presenting you in a positive light? Would that work for you? Would it give you what you need?”
“You would do that?” She thought his comment about going back to Spain meant Baz had no interest in getting involved. In any way. “Why would you do that?”
His knuckles turned white from Baz’s grip on the steering wheel. “Because I do not want you to end up more hurt than you already have been.”
Hope blossomed, but then collapsed under reality. “It won’t work. Andreas already tried to reason with Mr. Madison. It didn’t go well.”
Which was an understatement.
“Mr. Madison owes you an apology.”
“That’s what Andreas said.”
“I will make sure you get it. Andreas is good at what he does, but he does not have my experience dealing with situations like this.”
“You have experience with situations like this?” she asked with disbelief.
“Not exactly, but I have three stepmothers and another one about to marry my father. I have learned how to deal with unreasonable and entitled people, getting them to rein in their expectations.”
“You really think you can convince that man to say he’s sorry?” Much less the rest of it.
“I think I can do more than that. I can get a sizable donation for Kayla’s for Kids, a press release from him and his wife deeply regretting the continued media interest in their old tragedy and the gag order I mentioned, naturally.”
He was serious. He really meant it. Baz would use his considerable power and influence to right a wrong that had plagued Randi’s life for five long years. Nothing could undo the trauma she’d endured hitting a child with her car. She hadn’t been able to drive for two years afterward, but if he could stop the piranhas from circling, that would be amazing.
Relief poured through Randi and she realized in that moment how much she truly hadn’t wanted to do the interview. “If you think it will work, I’ll do it.”
“You’ll cancel the interview?” He sounded relieved all out of proportion.
Maybe he did care. At least a little.
“After I get an apology, the press release goes out and they sign the gag order.” She wasn’t a complete pushover, no matter how much she didn’t want to see Jamie and his sister forced to deal with the aftermath of the interview.
“Give me twenty-four hours.”
He thought he could get it accomplished that quickly? She only hoped Baz was right. “I can’t believe you’re doing this for me.”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
She didn’t have an answer for him, other than the fact that they had sex, not a relationship. “Are you always this helpful to women you date casually?” she asked by way of an answer.
“What we have is—” He stopped abruptly, looking startled by what he was about to say. Baz cleared his throat. “Casual, yes, but that does not mean I cannot do this small thing for you.”
“Trust me. Dealing with Carl Madison is not a small thing.”
“For you, maybe. For me? Sí, lo es.”
Yes, it is, she internally translated and smiled. “For a corporate mega shark, you sure have a white-knight complex going on.”
He grimaced. “I assure you, I am no white knight.”
Her smile did not dim. It was kind of sweet how he didn’t want her to think he was that guy when he so obviously was.
The executive condo he was staying in was in a multistory brick building on one of the pretty tree-lined streets near the downtown center. Baz pulled his luxury rental into the secure underground parking garage after the liveried attendant opened the gate for them.
Even the elevator up to his floor was swank, the walls paneled in light wood; no flyers for upcoming local events pasted to these walls.
Though there was a brass plaque informing residents that the concierge would be happy to help them find entertainment or dining options as well as anything else they might require.
A condo complex with a concierge? Now, that was upscale.
They took the elevator to the top floor. Of course. The doors swished open to an elegant but modern foyer, a square settee on one wall, a console table flanked by two chairs and topped with a vase of lilies on the opposite. Everything in shades of creams and bro
wns, it had a peaceful vibe and she could imagine visitors for the residents waiting here comfortably. Four corridors led off from the space to what she assumed were entrances to each corner penthouse apartment.
“Finally!” A demanding and oddly familiar voice shattered the peace of the space. “Where the hell have you been? You haven’t answered any of my calls, Baz. That is not acceptable.”
Although she couldn’t yet see the man, standing as she was on the other side of Baz, Randi now recognized the voice coming from the corridor on their right and it sent ice through her veins.
Carl Madison.
CHAPTER SEVEN
WHAT IN THE world was Carl Madison doing here and why was he berating Baz? Had Randi’s temporary lover already instigated talks on her behalf with the awful man?
And why did he think he could call Basilio by the more familiar nickname, Baz?
“Carl, what the hell are you doing here?” Baz asked with undisguised fury.
So, not friends, then, but they were on a first-name basis. How did that work? What was going on? Why would Mr. Madison have come to Baz’s penthouse?
“If you answered your damn phone I would not have had to track you down,” Mr. Madison said, sounding both annoyed and aggrieved. “That bitch is going to do that interview in two weeks. The station is already doing internet promotion for the spot, alluding to a brand-new revelation of document-supported facts. What are you doing about it?”
“Hell, Carlos. Eres un idiota!” Baz lunged away from Randi toward the man he’d just called Carlos. Not Carl. He grabbed Mr. Madison by the lapels of his jacket and jerked him forward. “No usarás un lenguaje como ese sobre o alrededor de Miranda.”
Baz’s explosion into motion had shocked her, but the fury in his tone as he demanded the other man not use that kind of language about or around her made her feel a little better in a situation she did not understand.
“Speak English.” Mr. Madison was trying to break Baz’s hold on his jacket to no avail. “You’re in America, little brother.”
“Little brother?” Randi asked, absolutely not wanting to believe the implication of what she was hearing, but unable to ignore the evidence of her eyes and ears.
Mr. Madison jerked at the sound of her voice, looking past his brother to meet Randi’s bewildered gaze. Surprise and consternation crossed his face before it settled into lines of straight-out annoyance.
“Oh, hell. Why did you bring her here?” Mr. Madison demanded as Baz moved to block the older man’s line of sight to her. “I guess it’s out of the bag now. Not that you were making progress.” Oh, the disgust just dripped from Carl Madison’s voice.
But progress? What exactly was out of the bag? Randi gave herself a mental shake, reminding herself she was no doe-eyed optimist. If it walked like a duck, it was going to quack.
Basilio Perez was Carl...no, Carlos Madison’s brother. All the clues had been there. The siblings whose mother had taken them to raise in another country, even giving them the last name of her second husband. Carl Madison had been born Carlos Perez.
And he was a member of the family Baz had been so clear he owed all his loyalty to, one of the people Baz had made it clear he was willing to be downright merciless on behalf of.
Never had Randi been so tempted to use a certain four-letter expletive. Not even when the toe-rag trying to peer around his brother to glare at her had hit and threatened her.
“All of this was about you convincing me not to do the interview,” she accused Baz’s back.
His big body stiffened. Then his brother dropped against the wall, stumbling to his knees, as Baz spun to face Randi. “I told you why I do not want you to do the interview.”
She almost bought his distress, but she couldn’t afford to spend that kind of emotional currency.
“You lied to me.” She couldn’t have hidden the pain that knowledge caused her, so she didn’t try.
“I told you I was no white knight.”
“You think that makes it okay?” she cried. This could not be real.
The first man in years she’d shared her body with had been using her just like the last one. Her heart felt like it was exploding in her chest, detonating from the pain expanding inside her.
“Nothing has changed from five minutes ago. Yes, I regret to say that sorry excuse for humanity is my older brother, but he was not in our bed with us.”
“You had sex with her to get her to call off the interview? You do have a ruthless streak, don’t you?” Mr. Madison sounded like he was impressed.
Randi just wanted to throw up.
Baz spun back to the older man and got right into his face, in a move more emotional than orchestrated. “Shut up. This has nothing to do with you.”
“Like hell,” Mr. Madison barked.
“Of course it does,” Randi said painfully at the same time.
She understood why Baz was so upset. His brother’s impatience had undone all of Basilio Perez’s efforts in, and out of, the bedroom. He’d had her, too. She’d been on the verge of doing exactly what the brothers wanted.
Baz turned back, stepping toward her. “No, it really does not. Carlos has treated you shamefully. I still want to fix that.”
“How is deceiving and using me going to fix anything?” For her anyway.
She could see what his agenda had been on behalf of his family easily enough, but no way did that translate into making things better for her.
He opened his mouth to speak, but seemed unsure what to say. Randi doubted very much that the great Basilio Perez often found himself lost for words.
She put her hand up, forestalling whatever his facile brain was coming up with. “I can’t believe anything you say.” He’d been dishonest with her from the start. “You orchestrated our meeting, didn’t you?”
His jaw clenched, but he nodded. “I did.”
“You lied about everything!”
“Actually, I lied about very little.” He stepped closer to her and she moved back, maintaining their distance. He frowned, but stopped. “The only thing I withheld from you was the name of my family here.”
“You knew I would never suspect you of being related to the people who had destroyed my life. The times we talked about the accident, you deliberately pretended not to know anything about it.” How was pretense not a lie?
“We destroyed your life?” Mr. Madison was apparently done being ignored. “You put our son in a coma for two weeks!”
“I never denied driving the car, but I wasn’t speeding. I wasn’t driving negligently. Jamie ran out from between parked cars, right in front of my bumper. I did my best to avoid him. If I hadn’t, things would have been so much worse. I know the doctors told you that.” Because they’d told her when she’d inquired about the little boy’s state of health.
The entire situation had been beyond devastating. One of the reasons she hadn’t fought back against all the criticism, despite the proof she had access to that showed so much of what was said about her was a total fabrication, was because she’d felt a horrific guilt. Deserved or not, Randi had never completely gotten over the moment of impact between her car and that tiny body. She probably never would.
Mr. Madison dismissed Randi’s words with some ugly language, but no actual argument to the contrary.
Baz pointed at his brother, his expression bordering on fury. “The accident was unavoidable once your wife let your four-year-old son wander off toward a busy street.”
“Is that what that bitch told you?”
Baz moved so fast, Randi gasped. But he had his brother up by his collar again and spoke right into his face. “I told you not to call her that!”
Mr. Madison’s face turned red, his nasty expression in no way diminished. “Remember who your family is here, Baz!”
“Right now I’m ashamed of the connection.”
“How dare you say that?”
“How dare you hit a defenseless woman?”
Randi wasn’t exactly defenseless, but she agreed the jerk should never have gotten physical with her. She wished he’d just forget she existed.
“That bitch is not defenseless!”
“I warned you!” Baz cocked his arm and then punched his brother, right in the face, before throwing him toward the wall. “How does that feel?”
Mr. Madison swiped at his now-bleeding nose. “I can’t believe you hit me!”
“We are of a size.” He indicated Randi with his hand. “She, however, is nowhere near your weight class. And. You. Hit. Her.”
“I told you things got out of hand. I shouldn’t have done that.”
“That is not good enough.” Baz seemed to pull his cool in around him, his voice turning more frigid than a Midwest winter. “You will keep a civil tongue in your head or I will knock out every one of your capped teeth.”
Cautiously eyeing his younger brother, Mr. Madison pushed himself up the wall. “Okay, I get it. You’re protective, though Heaven only knows why.”
Protective? Right. Not so much from where Randi was standing.
Betrayal was flaying her with the sting of twenty lashes. “Sex between us...it was all about you seducing me into doing what you wanted.”
And man, but she did not want to discuss this in front of Carl Madison.
Baz held himself rigidly, but took several seconds to come back around to face her. He reached toward her again.
But she stepped back farther, hitting the wall, unable to bear the idea of even the most casual touch. “Just admit it. Don’t keep lying.”
“I told you. I didn’t actually lie to you.”
“You deceived me and that isn’t going away on a technicality. Do you honestly think I would have spent five minutes, let alone five days, in your company if I knew who you were related to?” One thing was for sure—she wasn’t compounding that mistake. “No wonder you stood up for people I thought were strangers to you. They were part of the family you are so willing to protect at all costs!”
