Maddie had only a few memories of grandparents who were both dead by the time she turned five, but none of them included a hug, or a kiss, or any other sign of affection.
“You could be right, but Jeremy admitted he’d lie if it got him what he wanted.”
“Well, you knew that.”
“I did. It was just weird having him admit it. I guess he has his own personal brand of honesty, too.”
Romi adjusted the folds of Maddie’s skirt just so. “I suppose. I prefer Viktor’s.”
“Me, too,” Maddie said fervently.
Both women laughed, and it felt good.
But then most things felt pretty amazing right now. Maddie was marrying the man she loved and even if he didn’t love her, he’d promised a real family.
And Vik kept his promises.
* * *
Viktor walked down the elementary school’s hallway behind an office aide who had agreed to escort him to Miss Jewett’s first-grade classroom.
Unlike Madison, Viktor and Maxwell had attended public school, but in an area more affluent than this one. The mix of children and teachers here reflected San Francisco’s varied population like the rarified social strata of the Archers did not.
Viktor wasn’t sure why Madison had asked him to meet her here. She’d said something about wanting to talk to him with the help of a visual aid.
He didn’t know what that meant. He couldn’t see how an overcrowded public school would work as inspiration for her charter school. Unless it was the success they had with their volunteer program.
He’d done a little research before leaving the office on this grade school and discovered that they had a significantly higher than usual rate of parent participation in the classroom as well as other volunteerism.
When he’d arrived at the office, it was to discover that he was expected. So, he was definitely in the right place.
Whatever Madison’s reasons for having him there.
He noticed two things immediately after the aide opened the classroom’s door—Madison looking very unlike herself and the absolute silence he did not associate with a roomful of children.
Wearing a mousy brown wig, contacts that obscured the Mediterranean blue of her eyes with brown and clothes clearly bought off the rack at a box store, his fiancée sat at a small desk in a circle with six students.
Tattered books with brightly colored pictures, large print and few words were open on the desks in front of the children. Madison held her own copy, a smile frozen on her face as she met his gaze.
Vik allowed one brow to rise in query. “Hello, Madison. It appears you have some friends I haven’t met.”
Her fixed smile morphed into a genuine grin as she jumped to her feet. “You’re early.”
He couldn’t help noticing the cheap cotton top and denim jeans she wore showed off her curves in ways that affected his libido as surely as her designer dresses.
He didn’t like the wig or colored contacts, though.
He shrugged away her comment about his timing. “Introduce me.”
“Of course.”
Not wanting to intimidate the children with his size, Viktor dropped to one knee and reached to shake hands with each child as Maddie introduced them.
A few returned his greeting with charming politeness. One small girl, clearly Madison’s favorite from the way the small girl tucked herself behind his fiancée’s legs, ducked her head, but wiggled her fingers in a shy hello.
Viktor met the teacher and the parent volunteer as well.
“Very nice to meet you,” he said to Miss Jewett.
“The pleasure is all ours.” She smiled, her eyes warm as they lit on Madison. “Your fiancée is a fantastic volunteer. She’s so good with the children and could be a teacher with her credentials.”
“I am aware.” He just hadn’t been aware that she volunteered in the public school system.
Did her father know?
Madison clearly didn’t want to leave right away, so Viktor stayed, enjoying the time helping six-year-olds with their reading.
They were in his Jaguar and headed toward the other side of the city when she finally pulled off the offensive wig, exposing her red curls crushed in a messy pile. It reminded him of the way she looked after sex, the only time she was completely disheveled—Madison woke looking more tempting than ever.
She rubbed at her scalp and ran her fingers through her hair, causing some curls to bounce up again. “It’s always such a relief to get that thing off.”
“Why do you wear it?”
“Because Maddie Grace is a normal woman with a degree and desire to volunteer with children. She doesn’t get written up in the tabloids or followed by the paparazzi.”
“And that’s important to you?”
“To be normal? It was when I started. Now, it’s just easier. Can you imagine what the media would make of the billionaire heiress as a volunteer teacher’s aide?”
“I have a feeling we’re going to find out.”
“That’s what I thought. With our marriage and the vestiges of Perrygate, I kind of figured it was only a matter of time before my secret got exposed.”
“Some secret.” She was even more wonderful than he’d always known. “How long have you been volunteering like this?”
“It started as a dare with Romi. Trying to attend a political rally incognito. It worked and I got the idea to volunteer at a soup kitchen the next weekend dressed up.”
“Don’t you mean dressed down?”
She laughed, the sound soft and more enticing than he was sure she meant it to be. “I guess.”
“It might be a good idea to come clean before some enterprising reporter does it for you.”
“I guess,” she said again, not sounding nearly as amused or enthusiastic.
“As much as you enjoy being Maddie Grace, Madison Beck will be able to effect more widespread change and influence.” Just giving Madison his last name verbally was satisfying in a way Viktor didn’t understand or analyze.
“But will she get to teach a first-grader how to read?”
“Yes. That’s what the charter school is about, right? Helping children one-on-one.”
“It is.” He could hear the smile in Madison’s voice.
“So Grace for Romi Grayson?”
“No, my grandmother Madison.”
“That’s right.” He’d forgotten.
“You don’t mind?”
He pulled into a parking spot on the side of the road, wanting to have this conversation face-to-face. Cutting the engine, he turned to face her.
Brown eyes stared back at him and he frowned. “Can you take those out?”
“What? Oh...” Comprehension dawned.
She pulled a small case from her backpack, so different than the trendy designer bags he usually saw her wear, and proceeded to take out and store away the contacts.
“This persona, she’s more you than the famous designer wedding dress?”
“Sometimes. Sometimes I just really love my Chanel, you know?” Madison’s pretty bow lips twisted in a wry grimace. “I like to pretend that I couldn’t care less about the latest fashions and keep up with them just to be Madison Archer, but the truth is? I like both.”
He nodded. Not because he understood. He wore tailored designer suits as a sign of power, not because he thought about how they looked. But because he was glad Madison Archer, soon to be Madison Beck, wasn’t someone she didn’t want to be.
“So, the question was do I mind? Yes?”
Madison’s beautiful blue eyes shone at him. “Yes.”
“Do I mind that I am going to marry a woman who cares so much about helping others she has created an alternate persona so she can do it? No, Madison. I do not mind at all.”
Giving in to the urge that seemed to grow with each passing day, Viktor leaned across the console and kissed Madison.
He lifted his mouth to say, “In fact, I think it’s amazing.”
Madison sighed and le
aned back into the kiss, delight radiating off of her and twisting its way around Viktor’s heart.
* * *
Viktor’s deda and babulya had them over for dinner a couple of days later and dropped their own bombshell.
Stunned at his grandparents’ request, Viktor could only ask, “You want us to what?”
“When we moved here, we gave up all the old ways,” Misha said. “We changed our last name from Bezukladnikov to Beck—we even changed our baby boy’s name from Ivan to Frank. Very American.”
“I know all this.” It was family history he had shared with Madison years ago.
Her lovely face expressed memory of the event too. Viktor just didn’t understand why his deda felt the need to rehash those realities now.
“We did not speak Russian in our home. We encouraged our little Ivan to become fully American.” Babulya’s voice broke on his father’s original name. “Frank, who spoke without an accent and did all the things the other children at school did.”
“You wanted him to embrace and be embraced by his new homeland,” Madison offered in understanding while Viktor reeled with alien confusion.
His grandmother smiled appreciatively. “Exactly, but we gave away too much and he became the man he is today.”
“A flake. You can say it, Babulya.” Vik frowned with frustration, really not liking the idea his beloved grandparents were trying to take responsibility for his father’s lifetime of selfish and poor choices. “My dad is a deadbeat.”
“Do not speak of your father that way,” Misha said, but with little heat.