Montrose and Genie Westbrook. Matt recognized their pictures. Clearly, Montrose was here to prove he had the balls to run with the big dogs and wouldn’t let something like the murder of his son dim his ambition. On the other hand, it was painfully obvious Genie wanted to be anywhere else. The unrelieved black of her dress, shoes, and jewelry—all fit for a funeral—screamed that she still grieved.

  Agatha greeted them like the consummate hostess, offering her cheek to the ass-kissing man before she grabbed his grieving wife’s hands like they were the best of friends. “Genie. I’m so glad you came.”

  “Thank you for inviting us, Agatha.” The words sounded wooden.

  “Of course. I’ve been thinking about you so much. If there’s anything we can do to ease your pain…”

  “You’re too kind,” Montrose cut in, speaking before Genie could.

  Every word these pricks said sounded more insincere than the one before. How did anyone live like this?

  “What can I get you to drink?” Agatha asked the couple.

  Montrose requested a scotch. Genie demurred, but Agatha still shoved a glass of white wine in her hand. “It will soothe you.”

  Like a few fermented grapes were going to help her forget that her only son was gone forever?

  Matt turned to Madison with a silent question. Could this hag be more condescending?

  She shrugged as if to say this was Agatha’s usual behavior. Still, empathy softened Madison’s face. She felt for Genie.

  Montrose’s wife took one sip of the vino Agatha had forced on her, then set it aside and clung again to her husband’s arm. She looked seconds from bursting into tears.

  Madison approached Genie, but Agatha intervened before she could comfort the grieving mother. “Look! Time for dinner. I’m sure my dear Winston will be here momentarily. If you’ll all step this way.”

  When she gestured to a door, the nearby maid opened it with a curtsy, and everyone filed into the dining room, Madison last with Matt trailing behind her.

  She seated herself, as did everyone else. Despite Genie abandoning her last glass of wine, one of the maids poured her another at Agatha’s behest. Meaningless chatter ensued. Beside Madison, Cynthia “helped” drain Genie’s second stem when she thought no one was looking.

  Finally, a disturbance on the far side of the room grabbed everyone’s attention. The door opened. Collectively, the room looked up, breath held, as Todd entered, now dressed in a black shirt with a douchy gray-patterned jacket, black slacks, and designer loafers. It was all Matt could do not to roll his eyes at the GQ wannabe.

  Behind him, an old man entered, complete with white hair and a pristine navy-blue suit. Winston Pershing. The senator might be pushing eighty and he might not be physically intimidating at barely five foot nine, but his presence filled the room, bolstered by his swaggering politician’s smile.

  Matt didn’t dare believe Winston’s affable expression was anything but calculated. The old man expected people to underestimate him, and he probably raised his figurative blade the minute they did.

  Slowly, he made his way across the room, gnarled fingers wrapped around a cane while he nodded in greeting, dissecting everyone with a shrewd blue stare. Though he looked weathered and slightly stooped, and time had faded his mouth to a skin-colored slash, none of that diminished his charisma. The entire room seemed to hang on the senator’s every move and breath.

  When Winston’s stare landed on Madison, Matt saw his malice and exercised every ounce of self-control not to step between them to shield her.

  The senator stamped on a smile as fake as his campaign promises. “Madison, welcome back.”

  “Thank you, Winston. You’re too kind.”

  He cupped her shoulder. “How’s your father?”

  Matt felt the revulsion shudder through her. “Improving. Thank you for asking.”

  “Of course. I’m glad you got to see him before we buckled down for campaign season.”

  No one could fail to hear the warning in Winston’s voice, least of all Madison.

  “Absolutely,” she murmured, her expression no less fake. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

  The Westbrooks looked on, Montrose seemingly undressing her with his stare while applauding the senator for strong-arming her. Genie, on the other hand, cringed. Clearly, the grieving woman would give anything to be anywhere else. Matt suspected her husband had threatened her if she refused to come and make nice.

  Winston and Todd sat at the massive table, the former settling at the head. Todd slithered into the chair on Madison’s left and grabbed her hand before she could pull away. The asshat shot Matt a mocking stare as he squeezed her fingers.

  Despite his boiling blood, Matt refused to blink at Todd Pershing. He would not give that bastard an ounce of satisfaction. He fucking hated Todd touching Madison with his entitled, too-manicured hands, but Matt knew one thing: the bastard couldn’t—wouldn’t—dare to harm her in front of others.

  Within minutes, the staff had served the food. Matt blended into the background, observing everything and everyone as he strategized. Somewhere along the way, that cocky bastard Madison had married must have left clues about whatever shady shit he was into. Matt intended to find them and, if he had to, blackmail the son of a bitch into giving her a divorce and leaving her alone for good. That was Matt’s number one goal. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder…how in-the-know about his grandson’s dealings was the senator? Because Matt was hard-pressed to believe that much passed under Winston’s nose without him sniffing it out.

  But he wasn’t here to end one of America’s longest-serving senators, just his odious grandson.

  “Here’s to good times with family and sticking together no matter what.” Winston’s voice boomed as he held up a wineglass with his gleaming politician’s smile.

  “And to my husband’s successful reelection,” Agatha joined in.

  “Hear! Hear!” Todd, Roger, and Montrose all proclaimed.

  Cynthia had fallen asleep at the table again. No one seemed to care. Madison pried her hand free from Todd’s and used it to raise her glass in silence. Still without a drink, Genie looked at her plate, refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

  After everyone else took a swig, Montrose cut a glare his wife’s way. She pretended to be far too busy cutting her duck confit to notice.

  The meal got underway with Montrose and Winston speculating about who was stabbing whom in the back among the Beltway players. The senator congratulated Westbrook on his new multimillion-dollar pharmaceutical lobbying gig, wishing him all prosperity. Well, that explained why the man had been willing to sweep his son’s murder under the rug.

  Disgusting. How could Montrose Westbrook live with himself?

  Chatter turned to specific pieces of legislation in the works, including the bipartisan, compromise-laden immigration bill that seemed to have decent support among American voters.

  “The bill won’t pass,” Winston proclaimed, sending Todd a sidelong stare. “I’ve put some bugs in the right ears, and people are now coming around to my way of thinking.”

  Why the fuck would he kill it? What was that about?

  Montrose clapped Winston on the back like he was the hero the country needed right now, rather than the greedy sellout probably trying to down a popular bill for reasons that benefited him. The whole scene pissed Matt off, but he kept his face carefully blank and his attention on Madison, who pushed food around her plate and motioned to one of the maids for some water.

  She didn’t look his way. Matt was proud of her for behaving as if he wasn’t in the room. Hell, she’d hardly looked his way since the Westbrooks had arrived. For him, that was a double-edged sword. After nearly two weeks of feeling the constant sun of her affection, he hated being cut off from her warmth. Mere hours in, he already wanted to crawl out of his skin, but he kept his shit wired tight.

  Madison thanked the maid, then lifted her untouched stem of vino, passing it clandestinely behind Todd’s back. Cynthia, now awake again, took it gratefully and downed the wine in a handful of swallows.

  When the rhetoric around the table got too heated, Agatha changed the subject. “The summer is turning dreadfully hot…”

  As people finished eating and the servants began clearing away the plates, Genie excused herself. No one—except Madison—paid her any mind as she slipped out the door, then appeared a few moments later through the window, wandering the garden behind the house.

  Madison stood, excusing herself to the ladies’ room. The second she was through the arched door, Matt followed. He wasn’t terribly surprised when she didn’t find the john, but rather let herself outside, trekking through the oppressive evening air.

  Genie dabbed away tears before she looked up with a fake-as-fuck smile. “I’m sorry. Am I taking too long? Are they holding dessert for me?”

  “Neither,” Madison assured the woman, grasping her hands. “I wanted to speak to you, and I don’t have much time. I’m so sorry for your loss. I wish I could have done something to stop it.”

  “Oh, dear. There was nothing you could have done. Brent and Todd had always had a love-hate relationship. I was concerned at times, but I never imagined in a million years that your husband would accidentally⁠—”

  “It wasn’t an accident.” Madison cast a nervous glance around, caught Matt’s gaze, then led the other woman away from the window and onto the expanse of lawn, prompting Matt to follow. “What do you know about Brent’s death?”

  Genie frowned. “Just that they fought, and things got out of hand.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then there was some mishap. Todd tried to revive my son, but⁠—”

  “No, he didn’t. And I know that because I was there. I saw everything.”

  When Genie gasped and recoiled, Matt growled in Madison’s ear. “What are you doing?”

  “If I don’t tell her the truth, no one will. Can’t you see she’s grieving? I can’t bring her son back, but I can give her the truth.”

  She was right. Genie deserved honesty. Matt stepped back.

  “You were…there?” Genie’s voice shook.

  Madison nodded. “I went to the penthouse Todd keeps that I’m not supposed to know about to ask him for a divorce. He and Brent were arguing. There was a knife, and…they fought. The two of them threatened each other before Todd decided to put an end to whatever threat Brent posed to him once. Todd didn’t try to resuscitate Brent. He just called Winston for clean up.”

  Genie pressed a trembling hand to her gaping mouth. “Why? I don’t understand…”

  “I’m not sure what they argued about. It sounded as if Brent intended to go public with some knowledge he had about Todd. But they never said what.”

  “Though I don’t know precisely what my son was into, I don’t have any illusions. I know he didn’t grow into a good man, but in my heart, he will always be my little boy.” More tears welled in her eyes. “For years, I’ve clung to the hope that he would find the right path, maybe meet the right woman, find the right light…and eventually have a good life. I believe he would have someday. And now I’ll never get to see that.” She blinked at Madison. “Why did Montrose lie to me?”

  “Maybe he was trying to protect you?” Madison suggested.

  Or maybe Montrose didn’t want to give up the blood money and dream job Winston gave him for his silence.

  “I debated what to say to you,” Madison went on. “But once I saw the depth of your grief, I couldn’t stay silent. I thought the truth might… I don’t know. Help in some way? You’ve already lost so much, I didn’t want you living with lies, too. If you would rather have not known, I’m sorry.”

  “I needed to know. Thank you.” Genie sniffled. “Not that it will bring my boy back. Montrose seems quite happy to accept a check with a lot of zeroes and a prestigious new appointment to bring him solace.”

  And she sounded bitter.

  “I wish I could have done something to stop it,” Madison said.

  “If you had, Todd may have killed you, too. I’m glad you got out.” Then she frowned. “But you didn’t, did you? Somehow, he found out that you’d witnessed Brent’s death, and he used some means to drag you back.” Horror crossed her face. “You weren’t beset upon by a violent mugger in a parking lot, then suddenly decided to visit your father during his cancer treatments. You ran, and Todd found you.”

  Madison neither confirmed nor denied. She just gave the woman a painful smile.

  “Oh, honey.” Genie squeezed her hands. “When I was barely nineteen, my father married me off to Montrose, a man almost double my age. I had no idea what marriage meant. It took me decades to see my husband for who he is, and by then… Well, it was too late for me.” She slid a gaze Matt’s way. “I remember the way the press tried to scandalmonger about you two before Madison married Todd, so I know who you are and what you’ve been to her. Don’t let her die here.”

  He exchanged a glance with Madison, who gave Genie another squeeze of her hands. Clearly, she trusted the older woman.

  “I won’t,” he vowed. “No matter what I have to do or sacrifice, I will get her free from the Pershings.”

  The woman gave him a wobbling smile. “Good. Todd doesn’t deserve her.”

  He slid a hand under the unsteady woman’s elbow. “On that, we totally agree.”

  Madison and Genie shared another teary embrace before they headed back toward the house. Matt followed, scanning the yard—only to find Winston staring at them through the window, his mouth a gash of displeasure.

  The man couldn’t possibly have read their lips or heard their conversation, but shit was going to hit the fan.

  Inside, dessert and coffee were a long, tension-filled hour. When Ramona served the pastries, Agatha’s fury was palpable. But the senator’s wife swallowed her ire at the dishes served, forced another stiff smile, then launched into more meaningless conversation.

  Finally, the Westbrooks left, Genie and Madison sharing one more heartfelt glance. Montrose all but dragged his wife out, not even waiting until they got to the car to start berating her. Cynthia downed another glass of wine, then grabbed her purse, thanked Agatha, and latched onto Roger, who looked all too happy to disappear with his wife. He settled behind the wheel, and they drove off with a squeal of tires.

  Madison turned to Todd. “We should head out, too. I’d like to unpack before it gets much later. Thank you for a lovely dinner, Winston.” She bowed. “Agatha.”

  “You’ll stay right here until I say you can go,” the senator demanded, then sent his wife a pointed stare.

  On cue, the old woman grabbed her grandson by the wrist and pulled him out of the room. “I told Ramona to stop feeding your heifer of a wife those butterscotch chess pies. Maybe she’ll listen to you…”

  Todd looked back through the archway as his grandfather and his wife squared off, his expression full of malicious glee. Matt wanted to rip off the motherfucker’s face. Because he couldn’t control Madison, he was hoping his grandfather could—in the most humiliating way possible.

  Winston Pershing didn’t disappoint.

  “Now that you’re back, let’s get a few things straight, little girl.”

  “I’m a grown woman.”

  “And a goddamn pain in my ass! Shut your hillbilly mouth and listen.”

  Matt seethed. He wanted to beat the fuck out of the senator, but he couldn’t lift a fucking finger unless Winston Pershing physically hurt Madison. And the way he clutched his cane, Matt doubted the old man was capable of that. He hated feeling so goddamn impotent, but she was no victim.

  “I am not a hillbilly. I’m college educated from a prestigious university renowned for turning out the country’s best educators, and I graduated summa cum laude. Just because I come from what you consider ‘flyover country’ doesn’t make my life or my accomplishments any less important. Let’s get to the actual heart of the matter. I had the audacity to leave your grandson because I don’t love him. I refuse to be married to a man who could kill his own cousin, and you’re pissed off that I’m not someone you can buy with money or prestige.”

  He sidled closer, fury mottling his face. Matt loomed nearby, the warning in his expression a stark reminder to Winston Pershing that, no matter how important and powerful he thought he was, he couldn’t touch Madison without retaliation.

  The senator shot him a scornful glare, then settled a virulent, hate-filled stare on her. “You have a lot of nerve, bringing the man you fuck to bodyguard you. He doesn’t attend campaign events.”

  “He does. If that’s how I feel safe, he absolutely does.”

  “I say no!”

  “I don’t care. I’m here, and I’m playing your awful game. I will do my part until your corrupt ass is sadly reelected. I won’t bring scandal to your campaign. In exchange for my cooperation and my silence about Todd’s misdeeds, I want a divorce when this is over. You will leave Matt and me alone for the rest of our lives. That was the deal, right?”

  Winston puffed up as he snorted out a breath so full of anger, Matt was shocked it didn’t catch fire. “Yes, but let me be clear. If you ruin my reelection, I will not only destroy you, but your father, your lover, your friends, your reputation, and your future. Don’t fuck with me, little girl, or you’ll be very sorry.”

  The limo ride back to the apartment Madison shared with Todd was deadly silent. Matt remained close, not touching her, but she felt his wordless support. She loved his stoic reassurance, especially in the face of Winston Pershing’s ugly threats, but she couldn’t say that. She settled for a longing glance.

  At the curb of the lavishly appointed apartment, the driver brought the car to a stop and retrieved their bags from the trunk. Ethan opened the door and reached for her, palm outstretched.

  When she looked Matt’s way, he nodded in silent approval, his eyes full of warmth as he brushed his fingers across his temple. He was speaking their silent language. He was thinking of her. Her toes curled. Her heart threatened to overflow. Madison didn’t care that she was skirting a line. She gave him a soft smile full of I-love-you.