Leah Vale - The Rich Boy

She took her hand from her mouth and touched it to his sleeve. “Alex, you called Joseph your grandfather. You said you didn’t want to talk about your grandfather.”

Alex’s breath was knocked out of him as though he’d just fallen from a galloping horse onto hard-packed earth.

Holy crap.

All this time he’d struggled to break the habit of calling Joseph by what had been a lie, and his subconscious decided now to get it right.

Holy heaping crap.

But maybe that same subconscious had glommed on to the idea of opening up to Madeline, of confessing his burden of pain and a marrow-deep bitterness that scared the hell out of him.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Because mixed in with the sympathy glistening in her eyes, a sympathy he strangely didn’t doubt, was the gleam of triumph that tore through him like a sharp hoof.

He’d handed her the story of a career; the McCoys under glass, stuffed, braised and ready to be torn apart by the media. Now everyone—not just the family and those who’d had to—would find out that Joseph McCoy, an increasingly lone bastion of morality in corporate America, had lied to protect his son.

His only son.

Alex’s stomach pitched. “You misheard me, Maddy.”

Pity, as clear as day, tugged the corners of her mouth downward. “I didn’t, Alex. You know I didn’t.”

“I know no such thing, Miss Monroe.”

Her fingers curled into his coat sleeve, bunching the pinstripes as she tightened her grip. Not a hint of victory remained in her turbulent eyes. But he’d seen the triumph, and he’d never forget the look. “Oh, Alex, don’t.”

He willed himself to turn to stone. “Don’t what?”

“Don’t shut me out.”

He did just that. “Why, exactly, are you here?”

“Because I was certain you were trying to deal with something—”

He sent her a sarcastic smile. “The horrible loss of a family member? And what did you plan to do about this something?”

“I—” She faltered.

Thank God lying to get a story hadn’t become second nature to her. Yet. And because he was now forced to make lying second nature to him, he couldn’t rightly throw mud at her.

He placed his hand over hers, squeezed once in regret for what might have been between them, then removed her hand from his arm and stepped back. “You came for a story you could sensationalize. That’s fine—it’s your job. I understand. Just please don’t pretend otherwise.” His voice cracked. Damn it!

She shook her head, biting her lip.

He fisted his hands and forced himself to play hardball. “But if you try to use what you thought you heard here today, I’ll vehemently deny everything. It will be your word against mine. A TV gossip reporter with a clear agenda versus a grieving McCoy.”

He knew what he was about to say would be an even cheaper shot, but he had no choice. “Don’t forget who landed you the job in the first place.”

That one did the trick. The empathy cleared from her eyes. She squared her shoulders and raised her chin. “I am well aware of why I was hired for my job. Which is why I’m hell-bent on earning what I now consider a better one.”

He acknowledged her ambition with a nod. “Fine. Just don’t expect a hand up from me.”

“Fine. Because I don’t want a hand up from anyone.”

He jerked his head toward the door. “Then have a good day, Miss Monroe.”

Her chin went up another notch. “I will.” She whirled and marched away. Halfway across the room she stopped, the stiffness draining from her shoulders.

Alex’s heart tripped, then started to pound with a trepidation that vaguely resembled hope. What he wouldn’t give for his control back.

Madeline slowly faced him. Much of the indignation was gone from her expression, replaced by a caring hardened with determination. “But I’m not walking away from this, Alexander. From you. I know what I heard, and I know how bad finding out something like that would be for you. I can see how bad it is.”

She took a step closer. “I don’t think you’ll be okay until you get the truth out in the open, where you can deal with it. I’m going to make sure that happens.”

With sudden clarity, Alex realized there was only one way he would be able to deal with it.

He turned to his desk, grabbed his keys from the top drawer and headed straight for the door.

Watching him stride past, Maddy said, “Where are you going?”

Without looking at her, he answered, “That’s for me to know and you not to find out.”

He needed to get the hell away before he slipped up in front of anyone else. As if slipping up in front of Maddy Monroe weren’t bad enough. Not just because she was a reporter, entertainment or otherwise. She was the only woman who’d ever made him feel like simply a man.

A man who only wanted to be loved for who he was inside, not for his name and money.

How ironic, since he no longer had a clue who that was.

So much for the Maddy Monroe magic.

Madeline flinched when Alex’s office door smacked against its stopper, but she couldn’t take her eyes from his broad back as he stormed away. The stiffness in his shoulders radiated fury, frustration and hurt.

Poor Alex. Her heart folded in on itself, smothering any jubilation she might have felt from the vindication.

Alexander McCoy was actually Marcus McCoy’s son, not Joseph’s.

She’d been right.

Good heavens, who was his biological mother? Had that been revealed in the will, also? Or had Joseph told Alex afterward?

Madeline couldn’t fathom what it would feel like to discover being lied to about something so monumental, something so defining. Her own parents might be critical of her and set on what they wanted for her, but she’d never questioned that ultimately they loved her in their way.

Alex must be ripped to shreds by doubt.

Her eyes filled with tears again and every particle in her ached for him with an intensity that scared her.

She’d spent several sleepless nights attempting to banish once and for all her feelings for Alex. She’d thought she had succeeded. Obviously, to some degree, she’d been wrong.

Focus on the story.

And currently, the story was walking out the door. While not quite as bad, his vow to leave town ranked right up there with hearing another girl’s name announced as the winner by Miss Central’s master of ceremonies. Alex couldn’t take off. Not yet.

She set her jaw and hustled after him. He’d have to do more than stomp away to shake Madeline Monroe.

Once past the empty outer office area of his executive secretary, Madeline skirted the support staff’s cubicles, which filled the wide-open center of McCoy Enterprises’ top floor. She barreled past the break room, which smelled suspiciously of warm Krispy Kreme donuts as well as fresh coffee. No wonder people loved working at McCoy’s.

Before she reached the elevators, she came upon a door leading to the stairs, and hesitated. Odds were good Alex had taken the stairs.

Even though they were fourteen floors up, she doubted he’d want to risk having to talk to anyone on the trip down. For a moment she considered trying to chase him. But with his head start and fuming mood propelling him to the ground floor, coupled with the speed-slowing height of her heels, she opted for the elevator.

No longer caring if anyone noticed her as she had on her way to Alex’s office, Madeline ran for the bank of elevators. She screeched to a stop in front of the polished metal doors and hit every down button several times with the palm of her hand.

Luck was with her and the elevator on her left opened immediately with a ding. She rushed inside and pushed the close button with one hand and the lobby button with the other.