“She’s not worried about prison. She’s concerned that she’s going to live her entire life with everyone thinking she got away with it.”
She stayed silent but shot me a look that said that’s exactly what she thought. Audrey would change her mind. There was no question she wouldn’t answer. She had nothing to hide. Madison just had to see that for herself.
“If you heard her story, got to know her, you could write it for her. Get the truth out there.”
She began to bounce her crossed leg. I’d learned that was a cue she was considering something. “Could be interesting,” she said after a while. “But there’s no guarantee I’ll believe her.”
“What have you got to lose by meeting her? Hear her out. Then if you think she’s lying, you can walk away. But you won’t.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I know her,” I replied and then I lowered my voice. “And I know you.”
We locked eyes and for a split second, we were back in Norfolk, back in the office at the end of my parents’ garden—her face lit up by the moonlight, my hands running through her rioja hair. Did she feel it too? This heat? This connection?
“Madison,” I said in a half whisper. I wanted to grab her hand, pull her out of the office, and race back to Norfolk.
“I’ll meet her. After that, I’ll let you know if I’m willing to write the story. But you know how it is, Nathan—no promises that I’ll write what the two of you want to read. I have to tell the truth as I see it.”
“All she wants is someone to write the truth.”
My doorbell rang and Madison slid off the stool. “I’m starving. You get plates and I’ll get breakfast.”
I pulled out my sexy placemats, plates, and cutlery and set them out in front of the stools. Madison was taking a long time with the food, so I went to investigate.
“Very cozy,” the delivery guy said, glancing back at me. “I guess you had to sleep with your subject to get a story. Ruthless. Just like your mother.”
“Who is this?” I asked as I came up behind Madison. It certainly didn’t sound like a delivery driver.
“I’m Craig Jenkins, from the Post,” the man said, outstretching his hand. I didn’t shake it. “I’m impressed with Madison. I didn’t think she had it in her to sleep her way to a story.” He shrugged. “I guess I shouldn’t have underestimated the daughter of Mandy Mason.”
Mandy Mason?
Madison snapped her entire body around to face me and pushed me inside. “He’s the one I told you about, trying to steal your profile from me. Has been from the beginning.” She kicked the door closed and looked up at me as if she was lost for words. “I was going to tell you,” she said finally.
“Which bit? That you’re sleeping with me for my story, or that you’re the daughter of the woman who nearly got me fired from the company I built?”
“Of course I’m not sleeping with you for a story. You know that, Nathan.”
I did know that. Or maybe I didn’t. “Why didn’t you tell me who your mother was? Have you been feeding her bits of information about me?” I hated the entire concept of gossip columnists, never more than when one particular gossip hound came after me personally.
“I would never do that. And I told you my mother was a journalist,” she said, as I turned and charged back down my hallway.
“Gossip isn’t journalism,” I said as I spun to face her. “You lied.”
She stuttered like she was out of a defense. Because she was.
“Jesus, Madison. All the things I’ve told you. No one knows what happened at Oxford. No one.”
“I know,” she said, reaching for me. I stepped back and around the other side of the kitchen island. “I’m not going to tell anyone.”
“I’ve trusted you. Bloody hell, you’ve met my entire family. And you didn’t even have the decency to tell me that your mother has been trying to ruin me.”
“Nathan, you were a virtual stranger to me when I got assigned your profile. Why would I care if you knew who my mother was? This is an article that could land me a permanent position at the Post. I just wanted to do my job.”
“A lot has happened since then. You’ve had plenty of opportunity to say something.” Even if I accepted she wasn’t going to announce who her mother was the first day in my office, she’d deliberately kept it from me when I’d been an open book to her.
“I was going to tell you,” she said. “That’s why I came over yesterday. It was the reason I saw Audrey leave. I knew the weekend in Norfolk changed things and I needed to tell you.”