Immortal Games

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Madeline stretched for her morning run and winced at how stiff her body felt after slacking off for a week. Hyde Park was just around the corner from her place. Had Zen wanted to tip her off as to where the LeBlancs lived? She doubted that.

There were residential areas in Hyde Park, but she couldn’t imagine the LeBlancs in these apartments, regardless of how exclusive they were. Madeline speculated that members of the LeBlanc family lived in castles in secret highlands.

She jiggled a container of self-defense spray in her pocket to ensure it was secured and within easy reach, then headed to the park.

The fog was as thick as clouds. Madeline could hardly see more than ten feet in front of her. She kept to the left, but then by habit drifted over to the right. Suddenly right in front of her, a man emerged from the fog like a warrior. Late thirties. Tall. At least six foot three, she would guess, with a slender build and well-toned muscles covered attractively in fair English skin. His thick, black hair almost touched his shoulders. His strong face, the face of a dark angel, looked straight ahead before it registered the coming motion. His eyes . . . Madeline was sure that it was his eyes that caused such an electrifying reaction in her body. Dark, smoky gray eyes. Intense, captivating, and striking.

Because Madeline had spent so much time evaluating the beauty of the human being in front of her, she didn’t have any time to adjust her speed or steer herself away from the imminent collision. She would have been knocked off her feet and landed on her backside if he hadn’t grabbed her.

“Goddamn it, don’t you look when you run, Ciaran?”

The words were out before she could edit them. She had called his name, which meant she had to think with lightning speed right now to explain herself—to explain that she was not a stalker. Her thoughts ran rampant. She could tell him it wasn’t him she was after, she wanted his company. No. She didn’t want his company, she needed the guy who worked in his company. Hmm . . . but that wouldn’t explain how she knew his name. Maybe she should tell him she’s a psychic? No again. That would be a lie, and it wouldn’t go down well. Her thoughts tangled in a mushy mess, and she felt as if her face was on fire.

Ciaran released Madeline after a swivel to balance the running momentum so that they both regained their footing. “Excuse me!” he said.

“Sorry, it was my fault. I should have kept right—no, I mean left.”

“Is that an offense to run on a wrong side of a pedestrian path in a public park in New York?”

She wanted to swoon with the sexy accent, but her suspicion had gotten a better judgment of her. Madeline narrowed her eyes. “How do you know I’m from New York?”

“Your accent gave it away. I have a lot of business dealings in New York. I can tell.” Ciaran grinned.

Her heart skipped a beat when she saw that grin. For pity’s sake, you’re thirty-three, not a teenager, Madeline. Focus.

Ciaran drank from his bottle water and sat down on the bench. “I don’t think my name is written on my forehead.”

“Talk to your PR department. I’m the reporter who’s been bugging them for the past few days to get an interview. Of course I know your name.” That was lame, she thought. Ciaran didn’t have a public profile, and she couldn’t even get a decent picture of him. But she couldn’t think of anything else, so she settled with the statement.

Ciaran nodded politely, and waited.

“Oh, I’m Madeline Roux, from The Trumpet.” Madeline reached her hand out for a handshake.

“The Trumpet?”

She didn’t need to look at Ciaran’s face to see his expression. “Oh, we’re certainly not the New York Times or anything . . .”

“I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to offend . . .” He stood up quickly from the bench to return the handshake before she withdrew her hand.

Madeline laughed. “You have to do a lot better than that to offend me. We’re young, small, and not a mainstream magazine. Of course you’ve never heard of us.”

Ciaran smiled. “How off-stream are you?”

“Well, let’s say we’re just a bit quirky in our approach to serious issues.”

Ciaran murmured, “Ah, interesting! So you don’t just blow the whistle, you blow the whole magnificent trumpet to the glory!”

Madeline laughed. “You’ve got it, Ciaran!”

She suddenly realized that she hadn’t laughed for days. It felt good. But it was much too friendly. Madeline tilted her head to look behind Ciaran. He turned, looking in the same direction.

“What are you looking for?”

“Bodyguards.”

Ciaran looked at Madeline blankly. Then he just laughed.

“You think I’d have bodyguards with me when I go running? Who do you think I am? A prince?”

“Practically,” Madeline muttered.

“I beg your pardon?” His smile faded.

“What do you expect people to think? Your family isn’t media friendly. Your company has more security than the military. Nobody knows anything about your family. It is more difficult to approach you than it is to make an appointment to see the Queen!”

“Well, that’s because the Queen has to answer to her people. We don’t have to answer to anyone.”

“Or you’d have everyone answer to you?”

Ciaran lowered his voice. “We have money. But we don’t bribe or bully anyone. I don’t care for my family being judged because we want our privacy.” Ciaran jammed his hands in his pockets, waiting for Madeline’s response.

She cursed herself. “I’m sorry. It’s just been very hard to get in touch with you. I mean with your PR department. It’s almost impossible, and my boss isn’t happy at all about my progress.”

Ciaran nodded. “What did The Trumpet want to talk to our PR department about? You came all the way from New York—it couldn’t be a minor issue.”

“Nothing serious, really. I suggested the topic. LeBlanc Pharmaceuticals is a very successful business. I’m sure the media has made the most of what they could. But for me, behind that business success is always the people. I always find your family . . . intriguing.”

Ciaran smiled. “You think we have something to hide?”

“No, I think you have a lot to show. I’d like to have a bit of what you’re willing to show.”

Ciaran paused for a brief moment then nodded. “So is it my family or my family’s business that you’re interested in?”

She looked into Ciaran’s eyes. They were intense now, deep gray and mysteriously serious.

“Both.”

He shook his head. “You have only one option.”

“Your family.”

A slight smile crossed Ciaran’s face. “Then you can interview me. I will represent my family. Would tomorrow night be convenient? Over dinner?”

“What? Of course! Dinner?”

“That’s the only time I can manage.”

Madeline nodded.

Ciaran smiled. “Seven p.m. at One Hyde Park. I’m looking forward to it. Goodbye for now, Madeline.” Ciaran nodded a goodbye and turned to walk away.

“Why? Your family has never talked to the media before.”

Ciaran turned around, sending Madeline a look that made her stomach quiver. “Simply because I’d like to see more of you!” he said.

Then he walked away and disappeared into the fog.