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His grin was knowing. “I saw little point in an exotic location when we are likely to spend most of our time in the bedroom.”
Blushing, she ignored his assertion and shrugged into the burgundy-and-black color-blocked jacket someone had left out for her to wear. “I like Palm Springs.”
In fact, the small resort city nestled in the California desert was one of Maddie’s all-time favorite places. She used to visit with her mother every winter. There were enough celebrities that vacationed there, the Archers of the world were barely a blip on the media’s radar.
Maddie had continued to travel to the desert when she needed to get away from being Madison Archer, notorious heiress.
Somehow, she thought Vik knew that.
He smiled. “It is a good thing you are as intelligent as you are, or the amount of school you missed traveling with your mother would have been a real problem.”
“She always brought a tutor along and got my assignments.”
Vik’s expression turned heated. “I’ll be the only tutor you’ll need this week.”
“After the last five weeks, and particularly last night, I’m pretty sure there isn’t much for you to teach me.”
“You’ll be surprised.”
Not “you could be” or “you might be,” but “you will be” surprised. The man had no shortage of confidence.
And the following eight days proved how justified he was in that regard.
True to his word, they spent a lot of time in the bedroom of their suite at an oasis-style resort outside of the city. However, Vik also insisted on visiting Maddie’s favorite spots, taking her to dine at some of the best restaurants in and around the city as well as shopping in the exclusive boutiques of top designers.
Maddie, who had always considered her socialite side something of a necessary evil, enjoyed herself in ways she hadn’t in Palm Springs since Helene’s death.
Vik was flatteringly enthusiastic about almost every article of clothing Maddie tried on, and even the growls that particularly revealing pieces elicited were flattering in their own way.
They returned to San Francisco to a list of possible properties for the charter school that Vik had his real estate agent compile.
Vik had too many things on his desk no one else could handle after a week’s absence to accompany Maddie and Romi when they toured the properties. But he asked detailed questions each evening about what Maddie had seen, proving the sincerity of his interest in the project.
* * *
Friday morning, Maddie got a text from her father’s assistant requesting she come to a meeting in his office that afternoon.
She was supposed to do another tour of the property she and Romi had pretty much decided was the one for the school. Feeling magnanimous toward the world in general, even her father, Maddie called and rescheduled the tour before texting the PA that she would be at the meeting.
Maddie was shown into her father’s office by his secretary, who surprisingly did not stay to take notes. So, it was a personal meeting?
Only, why at his office?
Her dad stood and came around from behind his desk. “Madison. I would like you to meet Dr. Wilson, the director for...” Jeremy named a well-known institution that specialized in psychiatric studies.
It was then she noticed the other man in the room.
Gray-haired and distinguished-looking in a suit of good quality, if not an Italian designer label, Dr. Wilson was sitting in one of the armchairs that sat opposite a matching leather sofa on the other side of her father’s office.
He rose now and walked to Maddie, putting his hand out for Maddie to shake. “Madison. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Thank you. I hope I can say the same.” Though she did not have a good feeling about this.
Why did her father have a psychiatrist in his office for their meeting?
“Let’s all sit down and get comfortable,” Dr. Wilson said, indicating he considered himself a key player in the meeting to come.
The fact that her father followed the doctor’s lead without comment indicated he agreed.
Maddie wasn’t feeling quite so acquiescent. She remained standing as her father took a position at one end of the sofa and the doctor returned to his leather armchair. “What is this about?”
“Sit down, Madison, so we can discuss this like civilized people.”
“Tell me what we are discussing first,” she demanded in a chilly tone she hadn’t used in weeks.
Her father frowned. “You are being rude.”
“And you are being cagey.” When it came to her father?
Cagey was way worse than rude.
“Do you see what I mean?” Jeremy asked the doctor. “Unreasonably intractable.”
“You’ve asked Dr. Wilson here to evaluate me?” Maddie demanded, emotion cracking through the facade of cool before she reined it in.
Surprisingly, her dad winced, but he nodded. “It has come to my attention that you’ve been seeing a therapist.”
“I did for a few weeks, yes. Half of America has at one time or another.” And her choice to do so was a good thing, not a weakness.
“That is actually a bit of an exaggeration,” Dr. Wilson said, like he was making note of Maddie’s tendency to overstate things. “The number is closer to twenty percent.”
“Who told you I was seeing someone?” she asked Jeremy, ignoring the doctor.
Vik wouldn’t have told him. He might not love Maddie, but he was her white knight. Vik would never sacrifice her to the king.
“Does Vik know about this meeting?” she demanded.
Her father gave her his game face. “What do you think?”
“That you don’t want to answer my question.” She pulled out her phone.
“Who are you calling?” Dr. Wilson asked, his tone overly patient.
“My husband.”
“You see? Shades of codependency and paranoia,” her father said.
Maddie wanted to throw her phone at his head, but didn’t want to know what the psychiatrist would make of that. Vik’s phone sent her to voice mail.
He must have been in a meeting.
She left a message. “It’s me. Jeremy called me in for a meeting with a psychiatrist. I need to talk to you. Call me.”
Dr. Wilson was watching her with an indecipherable expression. Her dad’s eyes were narrowed, but she wasn’t sure if it was with worry or annoyance.
“So, you know I saw a therapist and you’ve brought Dr. Wilson here to observe me. Why?”
“No one said I was here to observe you,” the doctor said.
“No one said you weren’t.”
Neither the doctor nor her father answered that.
Finally, Jeremy said, “I’ve told Dr. Wilson my concerns about your increasingly erratic behavior over the years.”
“And while I applaud your positive action in seeking help,” Dr. Wilson said, as if speaking to a child, or an adult whose reasoning ability was compromised, “I must concur with your father that your actions since your mother’s death indicate a spiraling condition.”
“I do not have a condition.” What she did have was a brain and it was starting to work. “You aren’t going to prove me mentally incompetent to sign the paperwork giving Romi half of my shares in AIH. It’s not going to work.”
Her father’s expression said he disagreed.
Even more ominously, the doctor shook his head. “Signing such a document as the one your father described to me in and of itself is hardly a rational action.”
“You think not?”
“You think it is?”
“I know it is and I also know what I do with my money and assets is not your business, Dr. Wilson, or for that matter, Jeremy Archer’s.”
“You call your father by his first name. That indicates a level of dissociation to those closest to you.”
Who was this guy? Popping off with psychobabble on the basis of nothing but her father’s obviously biased assertions and a few seconds conversation
was not in any way professional.
“I’m closer to my cleaning lady than my father. In fact, I’m closer to his housekeeper than I am to him.” And that might have been an exaggeration, but she defied either of them to prove differently.
The psychiatrist gave her a concerned look. “Your lack of emotional intimacy with your one remaining parent is certainly something we can explore together.”
“Dr. Wilson, you are not and never will be my doctor. Now, if you two will excuse me.” She turned to leave the office.
“Madison!” her father barked.
She didn’t stop. He could leave whatever threat he wanted to make on her voice mail.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
MADDIE WAS IN the parking garage when her phone rang. Vik’s ringtone.
She answered. “My father found out I was seeing a therapist.”
“I didn’t tell him.”
“I didn’t think you did.”
“Good.”
“I’m just...” Frustrated. Confused. Upset. “He wants to prove me incompetent to sign the papers giving Romi half my AIH shares.”
“I had n—”
“There’s something he didn’t think of, I bet,” she interrupted, not really hearing Vik.
“What is that?” Vik asked, sounding both cautious and concerned.
“If he gets a judge to say I wasn’t competent to sign those papers. I wasn’t competent to say my vows, either, and we aren’t married. What will that do his precious plans to marry me off to his heir?” she demanded.
Vik made a sound like a growl. “That is not going to happen.”
“I thought things were getting better with him.”
“They are.”
“If anyone has lost their mind it is him.”
