The Golden Girl (10 page)

“So what do we do with this guy?”

“We call the local authorities. I also have to call in to my boss at the Bureau. Oh, and hey, thanks for saving my life. He caught me off guard.”

“Well, I owed you. Now we’re even.”

“Not by a long shot, but thank God you came across the hall.”

“I had something to tell you.”

Maddie explained to him about the accounts for William Pruitt.

“Shit, Madison…we’re going to have our hands full with the forensic accountants.”

“No kidding. Listen, you call the police. I’m going to pack…eat something. Get ready. Now that I did what I need to, can I change out of my Claire look?”

“No. You need it for your seat on the return flight. Since 9/11, it’s a lot trickier for us to fly commercial and make changes. Use her passport, same as on the way here.”

“All right, but as soon as we land, I’m losing the wig. It’s itching me like mad.” Because it had been put on expertly by the stylist, Madison was afraid to take it off and put it back on herself.

“You got it.”

Maddie left Troy’s room and headed over to her own. Once inside, she opened the minibar and took out a little vodka bottle. She poured it into a glass and swallowed it in one swig to settle her nerves.

Kremlin Killers.

What the hell had Pruitt & Pruitt gotten mixed up in?

In The Know With Rubi Cho

So is one of our city’s fairest heiresses finally getting some much-needed R&R?

The lovely and always perfectly put-together American heiress, Madison Taylor-Pruitt was snapped at JFK airport in this photo with a hunky assistant. Business or pleasure?

Our poor Madison has been chained to her desk for far too long, and with the police closing in on Jack Pruitt, and Madison being eyed for even greater responsibility, we can only applaud her. Head to the islands—or the slopes of Aspen—our dear Madison. We think it’s high time you remembered you’re one of the city’s most eligible bachelorettes.

M
adison awoke on Saturday, checked her e-mail from the office by hookup from her apartment, attended to her electronic scheduler, left voice mails for about three dozen employees and enjoyed two cups of coffee. Then she saw her picture in Rubi’s column. After the flight, she had gone into the ladies room in the airport and taken off her wig. Her hair was matted and flat, but it felt good to run a brush through it. Then she pulled it back into a ponytail and headed to baggage claim with Troy. By chance, a photographer spotted her and snapped away.

At 11:00 a.m. the phone rang—an interior phone from the concierge or front desk.

“Hello?”

“Ms. Pruitt, there’s a John Hernandez here.”

“What?”

“Yes, ma’am. And he’s parked his motorcycle outside. Is that all right, ma’am?”

“Um…yes. Oh, dear…” Madison was completely flustered. He had to have seen the paper. Rubi’s column wasn’t in the financial section—it was way up front.

“Shall I send him up?”

“Yes, do. Oh…God, what a mess.”

Madison ran to the bathroom. Her hair was pulled up in a loose ponytail, she had on no makeup, and she was dressed in her yoga outfit.

“Damn!” she said to her reflection. The last two weeks or so were starting to take their toll. She swiped some concealer under her eyes to get rid of the dark circles, but there wasn’t time to do anything else.

The doorbell to her apartment rang, and Madison’s hands started shaking.

“Great,” she muttered, “I can practically kill a man with my bare hands, but at the thought of seeing this guy, I’m mush.”

She went to the apartment door and opened it. John stood there, looking gorgeous in a black sweater and worn jeans that showed off his well-muscled legs. He was holding a copy of the newspaper open to Rubi Cho’s column. And fury was registered on his face.

“That’s not a very good picture of me,” Madison offered, trying to defuse the situation, smiling halfheartedly.

“So let me get this straight. I’m good enough to
fuck,
but apparently, I’m not good enough to tell even the first thing about your life to.”

She recoiled at the curse, as if she’d been physically slapped. She’d never heard him use curse words before. “That’s not how it is, John.”

“Isn’t it? This guy—” he thrust the paper toward her “—he looks like he’d fit in with your life on Central Park West.”

“It was business. Please…please come in. If I had it to do over again, I swear to you I’d have told you right from the beginning.”

John shook his head. “I’ve been played,” he said and started to turn.

Madison grabbed his arm. “Please…you haven’t been played. I was just too scared to tell you the truth.”

Jaw clenched, he half faced her. “Scared? To admit you were rich?”

“Please just let me explain. Please?”

“And what about this guy?” He held up the paper.

“Please? Come in, and I’ll explain.”

John shook her off his arm, but he did follow her into the apartment. This was worse than the most vicious board meeting, Madison decided. She was used to fighting people through her lawyers, through her public-relations team. She was used to veiled digs and slights on the social ladder. She was even used to blind items in Rubi Cho’s column. But this was a man who wore his fury right out there. Given what they’d shared in bed, Madison told herself she should have assumed he’d fight just as passionately.

She watched as his eyes registered her apartment. “Renovations?” he sneered, apparently recalling why she said her place was off-limits. “You just didn’t want me parking a Harley outside your lobby.”

“That’s not it. Sit down,” she urged.

He sat on the couch, but leaned forward, as if he was most definitely not going to get comfortable. He tossed the paper on the coffee table, right next to a Fabergé egg. Then he clasped his hands together tightly.

Maddie remained standing, and she started pacing, trying to gather her thoughts.

“When I started working at the charter school, I wanted to just be me. Not some heiress…I wanted to be in the classroom, interacting with kids, not being treated with kid gloves myself. Mr. Hayes, the principal, he agreed to honor that and was very supportive. I was also able to fund computers and do all sorts of amazing things through the Pruitt Family Trust, and I got to do it basically anonymously. At school, I was Ms.
Taylor,
not Pruitt. I wasn’t there to elevate myself, John. I was there to make a difference. Quietly.”

He wasn’t looking at her. He was staring at some unseen spot on the oriental rug, his eyes intense.

She rushed on, headlong, into her story. “Then I met you. It was the highlight of my week—every week. But I felt like I had the Maddie who worked with the kids and you, and the Maddie who was running Pruitt & Pruitt’s real-estate division. And they were two parts that would never meet, so why bother telling you all about my ‘poor little rich girl’ life.”

She took a breath, then continued. “The more you told me about your upbringing, the less I felt like I could tell you about mine. It was hopelessly lonely, and I was raised by nannies and shuttled off to boarding schools with other lonely kids. But it wasn’t about gangs and life and death on the streets. In my own way, I admired you…and was embarrassed by some of the excesses of my life. I mean, I won’t pretend that I don’t love going to Sotheby’s and bidding on a painting or spending the weekend in Paris, but I just couldn’t face your scorn.”

“Scorn?” He looked up with hurt and anger registering in his eyes. “Why would I treat you with scorn, Madison? Why would I judge you like that? I don’t like to be judged for my Harley or my tattoos, so why would I judge someone else?”

Madison looked at him pleadingly. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t imagine you accepting that I live in this life and run a huge conglomerate, and you live your quieter life of meaning. I figured you would either be intimidated or would hate me for being rich.”

“Or maybe you thought I’d just be after your money.”

“I never once thought that!” Her own anger flared.

“Don’t give me that,” he snapped. “I’m sure it ran through your mind.”

“Never once! Damn you! Never once.”

“Well, then what about being embarrassed by me? Maybe you just don’t think I’m good enough to be seen out with you. I mean, you kept me away from your apartment, your life, the restaurants and places where you’re seen…you would come to Harlem to avoid being seen with me.”

“That’s just not true. I would never be embarrassed by you. Ever. But you were so…gallant. I mean, you wanted to pay for my cabs…how could I take you somewhere I usually go and ask you to pay for a sixty-dollar Blue Pearl martini? I could just imagine what would run through your mind. That I was spoiled. And that sixty dollars could buy a whole lot of school supplies.”

She watched his face and saw a slight softening. She regarded that as an opening, much as she watched opponents at the negotiating table for signs their position might be weakening.

“I don’t know what to think, Maddie. I mean, you lied to me.”

She went to him and knelt down between his legs. She loosened his hands from each other with her own, then slipped her hands into his palms. “I just wanted what I had with you to be real. If you only knew what I faced every day—the backstabbing, the vicious negotiations. The social climbing. And I could have faced telling you about my world, but I guess I wanted to wait until we felt solid, without having to raise the ugly issues.”

“What ugly issues?”

“Let’s say we go on from here…I still go to your place. Will you come here?”

He hesitated. “I guess.”

“Fine. And when I have to go to a black-tie function, will you come with me? Will it bother you that we travel by limo and I’m whipping out a black American Express card, and that I have to fly away on business on a moment’s notice?”

“Look, Madison, I hadn’t thought that far.”

“Exactly. But would it bother your pride if I could give us some amazing things—different things from your life. I mean, John, no one ever cooked for me my whole life—other than our family chef. You gave me that gift. I loved that date. And I can give us other things, but I know in terms of what you might think, in terms of ego, or…you know at these functions, you’ll meet people who will act appalled that you’re a teacher. That you’re not ‘one of us.’ I didn’t want to subject you to that right away. I wanted us to have a real shot, John. I don’t know if I thought that at first. I only knew that when I would go to your school on Mondays, I felt like some schoolgirl with a crush. And when you’re someone who routinely closes deals worth hundreds of millions of dollars, that’s not a very comfortable feeling.”

He finally looked her in the eye. “No more lying?”

She took her finger and crossed her left breast. “Cross my heart.”

Without warning, he grabbed her and pulled her to his chest, almost lifting her to him, and kissed her. “I was sick riding over here, Madison. I can’t get you out from under my skin. I’m crazy for you.”

Yet again, she was amazed at the ferocity of their connection. She kissed him back, straddling his lap and putting a hand on each side of his face. Hurriedly, he pulled off her top, kissing first one breast then the other.

“Let’s go to bed,” Madison said huskily. She slid off his lap and led him by the hand to her bedroom. They each undressed and climbed under the chilly sheets. She hadn’t opened the blinds that morning, so they were cocooned in the semidark coolness of the room.

She pushed up against him and then lifted her thigh over the top of him, sliding up so she was on top. She pulled the ponytail band out of her hair and let it cascade down, leaning over and tickling his chest with the ends of her hair.

He pushed her back a bit, staring up at her face. “You’re my angel, you know.”

She nodded and looked down at him. He was so extraordinarily masculine, so powerful. “You’re mine.”

She slid farther back, then took him and slid him inside her. Both of them moaned at once. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her down so he could breathe in her ear, letting her hear how much she drove him wild. At the sounds of his building orgasm, she grew more turned on until she swore it was as if they had shut out the rest of the entire world and were lost in this sexual space that was unlike any she’d experienced before.

When they were done, they were both sweaty and completely spent. She climbed off him and then nestled against him. “Please don’t leave today.”

“Never.”

And soon, Madison was sleeping soundly next to John, feeling safer than she had in weeks. Maybe her whole life.

M
adison and John had dinner at Nobu. They took his Harley—but her American Express card. And they had a great time.

“I’ve never had sushi before,” he said shyly.

“Let me order for us, then, okay?”

He nodded, and she placed their order, choosing milder fish she thought a beginner might like. They drank hot sake, and then a cold filtered one. Madison felt downright giddy. All the time she had been dreading John discovering her wealth, she’d never stopped to think about all the fun they could have
spending
it. She imagined trips and dinners and skiing and weekends at the beach over the summer.

“You look happy,” he said. “I like it when you smile.”

“It’s just such a relief not to have this secret between us. I feel like a hundred-pound weight has been lifted from my chest. And I love the idea that we can have Manhattan as a playground together.”

“As long as I get to play with you, then I don’t mind, angel.”

“You know, when you say things like that…I get…so turned on.”

“Dessert at your place?”

She nodded. When dinner was over, they rode back to her building and made love again.

“Stay the night?” she asked him, leaning up on one elbow and tracing her fingers along his chest. She thought back in her mind—she had never asked a man to spend the night before. She was always working in her home office late into the night—staying the night would be inconvenient. But with John, she just didn’t care.

“Can’t, angel. I’ve got to get up really early to face a classroom full of teens tomorrow. What about tomorrow night you stay over after tutoring?”

“Can’t. Have you read in the papers about the murder of Pruitt & Pruitt’s legal counsel?”

“Vaguely. It didn’t register before, you know? I don’t pay much attention to anything having to do with Wall Street. I don’t watch the news—I’m usually going over lesson plans.”

“She was my best friend. And she was murdered. And my father is a suspect.”

“What?” He narrowed his eyes and looked at her in the flickering light of a candle they’d lit.

“It’s a really ugly story, but the bottom line is, they were lovers and they hid the affair from me. When she died, she and I were estranged. I don’t think my father killed her. I don’t think he hired someone to do it. But the fact remains that until the police do find out who did it, our company’s stock will go down unless he is replaced as CEO and chairman. He wants me to be the new CEO…and my uncle Bing wants to be CEO.”

“What do you want?”

“Well, I find Bing out of touch with the employees. He’s just not the person to lead us forward, I don’t think. And I’ve been groomed for this my whole life.”

“Then you should go for it…. I understand about tomorrow. What about later in the week?”

“You don’t happen to own a tux, do you?”

“No, Madison. I don’t have a tux hanging in my closet. Don’t have much call for one in my line of work.” He reached around and pinched her backside.

“Ouch,” she said, laughing. “Well, what if I was to send you to my father’s tailor and have him fit you for one pronto? Could you escort me to a little party on Thursday and then maybe stay over?”

“Sure. What kind of little party?”

“Oh…a fund-raiser.”

“What kind of fund-raiser?” he asked, playfully suspicious.

“Oh, you know…for New York senator Ellie Richardson.”

“Please tell me you’re kidding.”

She shook her head. “No, I’m not.”

“Sure, I’ll go. But if I get Senator Richardson alone for two minutes, I’m going to ask her why she’s cut funding for education.”

Madison laughed. “Good for you! You do that. But she’s no pushover.”

“That’s all right. Neither am I.”

Bing was furious. Madison could see it in his eyes. The board had voted to “temporarily” ask Jack Pruitt to step down until the “cloud of suspicion surrounding the death of Claire Shipley is resolved, though the board has every confidence in his innocence.” The press release went on to state, “In the interim, the board has named Madison Taylor-Pruitt as acting CEO. Ms. Taylor-Pruitt has proved herself a capable and visionary leader, and we have no doubt this decision is the one to steer our corporation and shareholders in the twenty-first century.”

Bing asked her to step into his office after the board meeting.

“Shut the door.”

Madison did as he asked, bracing herself for the confrontation. Her uncle was a near-twin of her father, though his hairline receded a bit and his hair was all silver. He stood about six feet tall, and had the build of a former world-class diver—broad shoulders and lean physique.

“I hope you’re satisfied with your little coup d’état,” he hissed. He was always condescending to everyone.

“It wasn’t a coup, Bing. This company needs energetic leadership, and for right now, we need a smooth transition.”

“Look…you can fool them all, but you and your father can’t fool me. I think this entire disgrace has been orchestrated.”

“I won’t even dignify that with a response. Claire is dead. That’s hardly an orchestrated act simply to win a seat as CEO, Bing. When you calm down, then we’ll talk.”

Madison turned on her heel.

“I’m not through with you, young lady. Don’t you dare walk out on me.”

“Well, I’m done with you. And as new CEO, I have a busy agenda.”

She walked out of his office and slammed the door behind her.

“What’s wrong, Madison?” Bing’s administrative assistant asked her.

“Nothing, Katherine. He’s just clearly unhappy with the board’s decision.”

Katherine Gould nodded. She was about fifty, and Madison always thought she was truly elegant. She worked her hair into a ballerina topknot each day, accentuating her high cheekbones, and Madison knew Bing gave her a clothing allowance. He was absolutely convinced that only the most impeccable assistant should greet anyone he did business with—it reflected on him, just as, Madison was sure, he felt the present scandal reflected on him as well.

“He’s been under a great deal of stress lately,” she whispered.

“We all have, Katherine.”

“I know…but…” Katherine looked completely torn.

“What?”

“I don’t know if I should tell you, though as new CEO…”

“Katherine, whatever you say to me, I will hold in strictest confidence. I’ve always had an open-door policy with my people. And by that I mean this entire company, from the cleaning crew to my executives.”

Katherine’s eyes welled. “What if it had to do with your father?”

Madison tried not to reveal her emotions. “If he’s in trouble, Katherine, it’s my duty as CEO—and as his daughter—to help him, while at the same time not letting it affect the company as a whole.”

Katherine nodded and bit her lip. Looking over at Bing’s office, she saw he was facing away, on the phone, staring out at his view of the skyline. She handed Madison a file, wordlessly. Madison simply nodded and said, “Whatever’s here, I’ll respect your confidence and faith in me.”

She took the file folder and, without looking back and acting as if anything was wrong, retreated to the executive elevators and went to her floor and office.

Once there, she told her assistant she wanted to see Troy. She had expected a raised eyebrow or two over the Rubi Cho picture; however, she guessed that her long-standing reputation as the company’s biggest workaholic preceded her. No one seemed to believe the trip was anything but business. Madison didn’t know if that made her feel better—or worse. Had she forgotten how to have fun all these years? There had to be a happy medium between Kiki Davis tossing her thong to the crowd—and Madison.

Troy came into her office carrying two tablets of legal paper and several pens, looking as if he was ready for a meeting.

Once they were ensconced inside, Troy shut the door and Madison tossed the file from Katherine Gould on the table.

“This came from Bing’s assistant.”

“What is it?”

“We’re about to find out together. She was visibly upset.”

Madison opened the file folder. “Holy shit!”

Inside were photocopies of some of the same pages Claire had squirreled away in her safe-deposit box. There was also what looked to be a secret memo from her father to Claire authorizing some of the shell companies.

“This looks really bad, Troy.”

“Sure does.”

“God, what a mess. I think Bing knows. He implied my father and I had orchestrated this whole thing. I think, as my father’s handpicked choice to follow in his footsteps, Bing thinks I am in on it, too.”

“I guess I’ll take these pages to the forensics accountants, too.”

“You know, let me hold on to them for a day or so. It’s my company—and if irregular accounting is going on, I’d like to have a clear idea of what’s involved.”

“Okay. Watch your back.”

“I’m starting to develop eyes in the back of my head from watching my back so much.”

Troy left her office, and Madison glanced at her watch. It was five o’clock. No one in the office budged. Not at Pruitt & Pruitt. To succeed in the corporation, junior executives were expected to put in a minimum of sixty hours a week at the office. Most put in more, always trying to get ahead of the person at the desk next to them. Usually at seven, some people started to put on coats. At nine, a few souls still toiled, and at ten o’clock, fewer still—but the office wasn’t empty. By the next day, people would start coming in around five-thirty in the morning.

Madison picked up the phone and buzzed her assistant.

“I’m going to put in a long night. Please order me up a two-liter of Diet Coke, a Cobb salad and a basket of bread rolls from the executive dining room.”

Madison hung up the phone and took off her suit jacket. She rolled up the sleeves of her blouse and went over to her conference table. It was going to be a long night.

Hours later, her salad was barely touched. A croissant was half eaten and all the Diet Coke was gone. Around midnight, Madison called for the car service. She wasn’t tired—and it wasn’t a caffeine buzz. What Madison had discovered was so chilling that she was pretty sure she’d lie wide awake until morning.