I was here to provide expertise in international law, and to lend social and humanitarian credibility to all parties. My work at Lifebuild Corps, an NGO that facilitated infrastructure opportunities that helped developing nations thrive long-term, basically a fancy way of saying we helped people in poor countries get access to clean water and reliable power, was my reason for being here. I was an independent consultant hired by Clark and Jeffries, the idealistic accessory to an otherwise capitalist venture. Most of my work was complete at this point, but the deal wouldn’t be done for five more days. This could transform my life if I could pull it off.
By Wednesday evening of next week, I will have bought myself more influence and notoriety to than I had in the last five years at Lifebuild. My consulting fee alone could provide Lifebuild with the means to afford to build an office in Port-au-Prince. No more meeting with contractors in my apartment. No more groveling at black ties. No more taking every call from every no-name staffer for every big-name asshole donor between Connecticut and Florida. No more flirting with the boring guys at parties to get access to the interesting ones (and by interesting, I mean the ones who are rich and generous to my NGO). Finally, I had a chance to make a real difference.
Clara and Kevin made shallow, meaningless conversation as I twitched at every noise, glancing uneasily into corners. I examined each shadow like a monster might explode out of it.
“Hello Madison,” a cool, deep voice remarked, “it’s nice to see you again after so long.”
Speak of the devil.
My heart fluttered in my chest. He was tall. Taller than I remembered, towering over me by at least thirteen inches. He was every inch as attractive as I remembered. His body, with broad shoulders, a tapered waist, and long legs, would look as appropriate in an underwear ad as a boardroom. But it was his face that drew me in and held me breathless. Alexander was classically handsome and symmetrical, with a strong, square jaw, aquiline nose, and piercing brown-black eyes. If he had any flaw at all, he was almost too masculine looking, the planes of his face too aggressive.
His gaze drew my attention in like a black hole. The more I gave him, the more he took. He could have taken everything from me, every iota of my thought and focus, and I hated him for it. I hated him for making me so weak in the past, and I hated him for still having that power over me now.
His cousin, David Breyer was by his side. Nathan Breyer, David's twin was supposed to be joining us, but he was nowhere to be seen. Each of the Durant heirs were unspeakably gorgeous, incomparably rich, and thoroughly reprehensible in their own way. But Alexander was the only one that could make my skin crawl and my pulse race at the same time.
“Hello Alexander. David,” I replied as smoothly as I could. My voice only caught slightly in my nervous throat, causing the corners of Alexander’s mouth to draw up knowingly—he heard it. Still, I was proud that I was able to meet his eyes without stuttering. Or fainting. Alexander’s dark, inquisitive eyes had always been hypnotic, so I simply tried not to look at him more than necessary. “This is my fiancé, Kevin Schmidt. Obviously, you know Clara.”
The appropriate handshakes were exchanged, and I could see Alexander’s attention rake over Kevin and then move on. For his part, Kevin seemed distracted. I followed his gaze over David’s shoulder. The object of his attention was obvious. And headed right toward us.
Shit.
Angelica waltzed into the club like she was at a party thrown just for her. She carried herself with an arrogance that rivaled Alexander or David, but also with a lurid, aggressive sway to her hips that only someone who thought it was a shrewd business move to leak her own naked selfies could find appropriate. People turned to look at her, whispering behind their hands and taking candid photos.
Her black bodycon dress was obviously Herve Leger. It looked like it was painted on her surgically enhanced figure. The black, pointy toe heels were red-soled Louboutins. She carried a black, crocodile Hermès Birkin bag. In total, her outfit probably cost six figures. Totally inappropriate for an austere Black Friday dinner. She looked like she should be going to a party in the Hollywood Hills. The worst part? She totally pulled it off.
Angelica was the most beautiful woman that most people would ever see. She’s the most beautiful woman I could even imagine. She had the face of Grace Kelly, the body of Charlize Theron, and the personality of a vindictive, rabid weasel. Her younger sister Clara was only half as pretty as Angelica, which means sweet Clara easily took second place in the global beauty contest. Next to them I felt like a short, top-heavy troll.
I didn’t really blame Kevin for going slack-jawed at Angelica, although I certainly didn’t appreciate it. Her decisive click-clack approach over the marble club floor, combined with the general decrease in ambient noise, and Kevin’s intense stare, caused the whole group to turn. Alexander's face turned away from me, but I thought I heard him swear under his breath.
“Hello everyone,” she said when she got close, slipping an arm around her younger sister and squeezing her shoulders, “Isn’t it nice that we’re all together again? Madison, darling, you look adorable as always.”
Oh, she knows my name now?
I forced a smile. Poor Clara gave me a look that begged my forgiveness.
“Thanks Angelica. You’re completely stunning as always. What have you been up to lately?” I replied, hoping she would talk about herself for a few minutes and give me a breather. Conversing with Angelica was always like a fistfight. I’ve had screaming, hour-long fights with people that were less exhausting than a five-minute chat with Angelica.
“Oh, you know,” She said, flashing her immaculate, white veneers at our group, “After Sundance, I ended up spending a month in Aspen. Vail is so last year. I met Amber Heard there, can you believe it? We. Had. So. Much. Fun. I’m just in town for a few days and then it’s off to L.A. I’ve got a date with Amber’s hairdresser, Ricardo. He’s a total miracle worker. A genius. He's so famous he just goes by one name. Like Madonna. Or Bono. Usually people have to wait nine months just for an initial assessment. Amber said Hillary Duff had to wait three. And all she wanted were some balayage highlights. Kortney Kardashian gets her eyebrows done there. You know those Armenian women are so very hairy. It’s just tragic. They're like orangutans. Anyway, I can’t believe my luck with Ricardo. Amber says that-”
"Look Angie—" Alexander interjected sharply, using the nickname Angelica despised, "Madison was just being polite. None of us want to hear your life story. And none of us give a shit about Amber whoever, either. Let's go sit down."
Not that I wasn't grateful for the interruption in Angelica's endless soliloquy, but it appeared that Alexander hadn’t become any more polite with the passing of years. Rudeness was a family trait; the entire Durant clan had a congenital lack of filter. According to Clara, they each had their good qualities, but I wasn’t going to waste my time looking for them.
Angelica's mouth snapped shut into a thin, crimson line. Her wide, famously sapphire blue eyes narrowed dangerously, but she recovered quickly enough to laugh the Angelica-equivalent of a lighthearted chortle. Alexander hadn't been joking. David laughed as well, but at Angelica, not with her. We collectively lapsed into an awkward silence.
"Alexander’s right. Let's go get seated," Clara ventured, breaking the tension of the moment, "Nathan can join us when he arrives."
"Nathan isn't coming," David said as we walked, "He heard Angelica was coming and said he'd rather gargle broken glass. Since none was available, he decided to go out with a couple of the hot interns tonight instead."
Jeez, I thought to myself, they’re really ripping into Angelica tonight. I almost feel bad for her. I’d been their target more than once in the past. It wasn't fun. Clara had warned that having so many Durant heirs in one place was a powder keg anyway. They didn't like anyone—including each other.
"Oh David," Angelica fired back, "I think we both know that Nathan's always been bored by charity. You know how he is. If it wasn’t a tax w
rite off, Nathan would never spend a penny on the unwashed masses. Not that I blame him. It’s probably better he isn't here with little Madison. Pointless, middle-class do-gooders piss him off."
My pity for Angelica evaporated. That was just rude. I could feel my cheeks burn.
"No one in our family gives a damn about anyone until it benefits their bottom line," Alexander said in a low voice meant only for our group, "We both know the veneer of altruism is only part of the deal's appeal, but only you would be careless enough to say something like that in public. We may be at the club, but people listen. I would hate for tomorrow's gossip headline to be 'Senator's Spoiled Daughter Mocks Groundbreaking Development and Humanitarian Deal.' Then again when have you ever given a shit about not embarrassing your father?"
Angelica glared at him in response, but her anger quickly shifted to concern. Since Angelica's future was intertwined with her father's political career and the continued support of Durant Industries, she had no incentive to truly piss anyone at this table off (except me). Her father had his eye on the White House, after all.
"So, Madison," Clara asked, attempting to change the subject, "Tell us about your recent trip. You don’t have much of a tan, did you spend any time at the beach?"
The table's attention turned to me. As intimidating as the situation was, at least I could always talk about my work. It was my absolute favorite topic.
"It was incredible," I started, feeling myself grinning from ear to ear, "I was in Port-au-Prince during Carnivale this year. I've never seen anything so beautiful. Even now, Haiti knows how to throw a party."
"You were in Haiti?!" Angelica gasped, as if I’d just returned from hanging out with ISIS. "Don't you know everyone there has AIDS?"
"Approximately 2.1% of the population has HIV or AIDS," I replied honestly, "It's the highest in the western hemisphere, yes, but still much lower than most people think. Universal treatment and efforts to educate people about transmission vectors have—"
"I didn’t ask for a lecture," Angelica snapped at me, "I would certainly never go there. It's full of crime. And it looks filthy."
Thankfully, the waiter decided to arrive at that moment to take our orders. I swallowed my snide reply, opting instead to let Alexander and David direct the conversation for the remainder of the meal. Kevin remained silent; he still seemed transfixed by Angelica despite her bitchiness. The Durants weren't so different from the usual rich guys at benefits, I realized about halfway through the dinner. David, in particular, didn't seem to expect much from his female company but to smile, nod, and laugh at his jokes.
Maybe that’s the same thing that always frustrated me about Alexander, I thought to myself as I chewed my vegetarian risotto. I'm not generally content to smile and nod like all the other women seem to do around him. I stand up for what I believe in. I think. He’s probably so used to women being enthralled by him, so overwhelmed by his money and dazzled by his good looks, that they never argue or disagree.
Still, even as I flawlessly played the part of fawning sycophant and listened to him talk politics, current events, and pop psychology, I caught him glaring at me.
Did he want me to point out the many, obvious errors in his reasoning? Convince him that he wasn't being compassionate? That he wasn't being fair? There was a time when I would have definitely done so, but I was on my best behavior. I wasn’t looking for trouble.
So instead I smiled, and we made it through the meal.
3
Alexander
Madison’s bleeding heart was practically beating out of that impressive rack of hers. I watched her watching me, listened to her listening to me, and knew I was driving her crazy. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat all through dinner, biting her tongue as I baited her. I had forgotten how much fun it was to be around her.
That childlike idealism, a misplaced faith that people were mostly good and deserving of anything but indifference was frustratingly intact in Madison. I was oddly glad, even though it seemed impossible that anyone could be so naïve. After ten years, she was still convinced the world was a nice place, punctuated only occasionally by assholes like me. Poor little girl. How could she not realize the opposite was true? That she was the anomaly, not me?
I was just more honest than the average human about my motivations for doing what I did. My success was all due to the fact that I was better at playing my fellow assholes at their own game. With only a modest business loan, I’d managed to build a multibillion-dollar property investment empire completely independent of my family’s wealth and influence. I was as self-made as someone like me could be, and it’s all owed to understanding how to exploit the selfishness and greed of others. After all, I understand selfishness and greed because I’m selfish and greedy.
By the time we made it to the VIP section of the trendy bar that the she-devil Angelica suggested, I felt Madison’s patience with my aggressive brand of social Darwinism wearing increasingly thin. She pushed her pretty soft, pink lips together into an unintentionally sexy pout, and crossed her arms tightly in front of her cleavage. Oblivious that every male eye in the room focused lasciviously on her tits when she did, Madison propped her forearms onto the table, hefting her cleavage up and leaning forward to stare down her nose at me disapprovingly. I delivered my next comments directly to her chest:
“And that’s why science supports the argument that more men than women should be admitted to STEM undergraduate programs.”
I had been forced to move even farther into misogynistic radicalism than even I believed in order to provoke a response. Madison set down her drink with a decisive clink. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes shined angrily. I leaned forward, ready for her to finally go on the offensive. The tension between us became palpable. Electric.
“I’ll be right back,” She said instead, to my disappointment, “I’ve got to make a quick a call.”
I watched her clamber awkwardly down from her barstool—she was still a tiny little thing—and stalk off somewhere to cool off. At least I got to watch her round ass twitch back and forth while she went. Her dutiful friend Clara followed almost immediately, leaving me with David. Angelica and Madison’s fiancé had also vanished. What was his name again? Carl? Kenny? Cunt-face? I’d already forgotten.
“You’re in fine form tonight,” David remarked to me. He’d been rolling his eyes for the past twenty minutes or so as my attempts to get Madison angry had escalated.
“What?” I replied innocently, “I just think that given the number of females who actually make it through advanced degrees in math and science, we should prioritize and invest in candidates that will actually succeed at the undergrad level. So what if it happens that most of those candidates are men? You can’t argue with facts.”
“Yeah. Ok. I’m not even going to engage with you on that,” David smirked at me. He knew I didn’t believe a word of what I’d been saying. I majored in History, after all. I may have done it because it was easy, but I did pick up a little bit of historical context on the patriarchy while I was coasting my way to Magna Cum Laude. I toasted him sarcastically and we sat in what passed for companionable silence.
David and I didn’t really get along. We didn’t hate each other or anything. I mean, he’s my cousin, and we were close as kids, but as adults we seemed to do better when our interactions were kept to a minimum. It’s the same for all four heirs to the Durant fortune, our collective upbringings were not conducive to things like cooperating or compromising. Or sharing.
That was why David’s brother Nathan wasn’t with us, despite what we told Angelica. I told Nathan in no uncertain terms that I had plans for Madison, and he’d gotten all pissy about me jeopardizing the deal for Durant Industries. That Madison would tell her father what a prick I was, and he’d pull out of representing us. I had no intention of destroying the deal, and even if I made Madison cry, old Mr. Clark wasn’t about to pull out of this paycheck for his daughter’s pride. But trying to have a civil discussion with Nathan quickl
y and predictably devolved into chaos. He probably wanted to fuck her or something. Again, I don’t share.
While my mind was on the topic of Madison, she was nowhere in sight. Where was everyone? Clara and Madison had been gone a few minutes, and I hadn’t seen Angelica or Cunt-face for a solid half hour. Nodding at David, I decided it was as good a chance as any to see what was going on right now in Dubai. As I wound my way through the dead VIP area to find some better reception, I finally found Madison. She was walking aimlessly around too.
“Have you seen Kevin?” Madison asked me. Her big hazel eyes were concerned. I rolled my own eyes at her question.
“No,” I replied, “but I also forgot what he looked like already. Honestly, why are you engaged to him?”
I was genuinely confused by her choice of potentially permanent life companion, and tired of not getting the reaction out of Madison that I’d been looking for. Her fiancé wasn’t all that good looking, and if he were rich I’d already know him. So, her attraction to Cunt-face had to be personality related. Yet, he didn’t seem to have one.
“Excuse me?” She asked as if she hadn’t heard me correctly.
“Why are you engaged to him?” I repeated, “He’s such a cunt.”
“What?” She snapped, furious at last, “That’s not any of your business. How dare you, of all people, put down him! Are you seriously asking me why I’m with my own fiancé? What sort of a question is that?”
I shrugged.
“An honest one,” I replied, smiling, “Like I said, he seems boring and generally cunt-y. I mean, he’s been totally ignoring you tonight. Does he work at an animal rescue or do free plastic surgery on ugly kids or something?”
That was the only explanation that would make sense. Maybe Cunt-face was as much of a goody-two-shoes as Madison was.
Bleeding Heart (Scions of Sin Book 1) Page 2
