Chapter Thirty-Seven

 

Linda didn't regret not going onstage until the first microphone showed up in front of her face. The question was one that she didn't understand at first.

"Is it true?"

Her face screwed up in confusion. "Is what true? The conference, I think, spoke for itself."

That was a lie. Or at least, it could have been a lie, because she didn't know. Maybe he'd been engaging in some kind of performance art, and none of it made a lick of sense to anyone. But that wasn't the Adam Quinn she'd known so far, and she suspected that it wasn't likely that he would suddenly start doing it now.

Another voice spoke up this time. "When did the two of you start seeing each other?"

And it was right around that moment that the entire world dropped into sharp clarity, as if she'd suddenly put on glasses for the first time after a lifetime of near-blindness.

What the fuck Adam Quinn had been thinking when he'd decided to answer their inane questions, and what he'd been thinking when he decided to admit that it was in fact his campaign manager that he'd been seeing, well… it was done now.

She tried to keep the screwed-up confusion on her face as best as possible, in spite of her new-found understanding of the question and why they were asking it.

"Seeing each other?"

A third voice. "Are you denying that the two of you are romantically involved, Miss Owens?"

"I can't say," she snapped. "I need to consult with Mr. Quinn and the rest of my team before I answer any questions."

"But you're not denying it, then?"

The way that they looked at her was like a pack of dogs looks at a piece of steak being dangled in front of them, after days of hunger. No, in their case, days was wrong. It hadn't been days for them. It had been weeks of starving. Almost three weeks now.

They'd wanted it so bad they could taste it, and now here she was.

She didn't answer the question, so another voice called out. The crowd was slowly gathering around her as she walked, microphones and digital recorders and cell phones being pushed close to her face, so they could get as much of whatever she was going to say as possible, as soon as possible.

"Did you get the job because you slept with him?"

A fire lit up inside her, one that she should have snuffed and responded to professionally. She didn't.

"No, I did not, and quite frankly, I resent the accusation, you—" She managed to cut herself off. She could almost imagine the grin on Tom's face if she'd gotten the whole thing out before her brain managed to hit the emergency shutoff. She'd have had to resign but Lord, would it have felt good when she said it.

She took a step, and it was like trying to walk through a brick wall. Nobody moved. A hand reached through to grab her wrist, clothed in a dark suit and attached to a thick arm. She let him take her and pull her through as the crowd of reporters continued their feeding frenzy.

"Are you alright?"

Her hand moved automatically at the sound of his voice. His arm twisted and the slap stopped prematurely in midair.

"You put him up to this, didn't you?"

Tom pulled her through the halls quickly enough that she was having trouble keeping up. She forced her legs to keep moving in spite of it. There was no other choice, after all. She'd either follow, or she would be dragged, but he gave no indication that there was any choice in between.

He didn't answer right away, and she didn't repeat the question. A woman in a red skirt-suit saw her and the glint of recognition in her eyes hit her in the gut as she slapped the belly of the man beside her, who hefted a camera onto his shoulder and started moving before his face showed any understanding.

They went through a door and Tom closed it up behind. His voice growled low. "Are you okay? Did you say anything?"

"I know better than that, Delaney."

He looked genuinely concerned for a moment, and the way his eyes bored into her made her knees want to buckle under her. The thumping in her chest wasn't entirely from the adrenaline pumping through her after trying to escape. Even now, down the hall, she could hear the woman's cursing at the lost opportunity.

"You do know better, don't you?"

She pressed her back against the wall and took a deep breath, trying to still the beating of her heart just a little bit. Then he leaned in close to her, and instead of slowing down, it just sped up. Skipped a beat. And as he leaned in closer still, her knees shook, and she didn't stop him.

Not until her phone beeped in her pocket.