Chapter 23
Beatrice
I open my eyes to the early morning sun in a slight panic. I was plagued with weird dreams for the entire night, and I must have slept incredibly fitfully, as well. The sheets are in a tangle around my legs, and Duke isn’t in his usual spot.
I hope I didn’t kick him in my sleep, at least.
I fumble for a glass of water next to my bed before finally getting up to do a quick pass of my morning routine.
There’s a faint whining from the other room as I compose myself, slightly slower than usual. Duke must really need to go out. With a sigh, I head to the kitchen to grab his leash and my runners.
When I arrive in the kitchen, Duke doesn’t even pay me any mind. He’s pawing and scratching at the door.
“Duke, hold your horses, buddy. That little poodle up the street probably isn’t even awake yet, so I don’t know what you’re expecting.”
His whining only grows louder. I just shake my head as I clip his leash to his collar.
“Alright, boy, let’s go.”
Once we step outside the apartment building, we’re greeted by the orange glow of the sunrise across my eyes. My lungs fill deep with the cool morning freshness. I take a moment to enjoy the lovely world around me waking me naturally, but I’m cut short by Duke yanking hard at his leash, sniffing around every inch that he can.
“Jeez, okay!” I exclaim and follow him, trying to rein him in.
He stills sniffs around at every step, peeking around nervously. He whips around with a yelp, but I don’t notice what he’s looking at until it’s too late.
“Miss Barlow, Miss Barlow!”
A yell comes from behind me. I spin around on my heel only to find a comically over-sized camera right in my face.
“Miss Barlow, can we ask you a few things?” a man to my right shouts in my face, putting a black tape recorder right into my bubble of personal space.
“I’m sorry, wha—” I begin, but a woman behind him cuts me off.
“Hello, New York Times here. You were seen with the president recently, care to make any comments?” she says with a nasal urgency.
“Ma’am, our sources say you and President Thatcher were dancing quite closely in Italy at the prime minister’s state dinner! The entire continent of Europe is buzzing with questions! We just have to hear from you!”
“The world’s favorite bachelor tied down! Care to comment?”
“Beautiful temptress seduces the cornerstone of the United States! There are rumors of you being a Russian spy! Can you verify this?”
Before I can even react, I’m swarmed with people, the shouting and flashing of lights making it so I can’t even think at all. Duke is yelping and barking, trying to keep all the paparazzi away from me.
“President’s concubine a mutt peddler? Does her dog get violent? We have the questions you wonder!” a man says into a camera.
“What the hell? Get out of here!” I shriek, trying to shoulder my way through the throng of people back to my home.
“Wait! Before you go, can we get a quick two-hour interview?” another man says as I finally break free, running with Duke back to my home.
I trip and stumble on a jutting sidewalk. I nearly fall and land on my butt, but I’m able to brace myself against a lamp post. Duke nudges my side, making sure I’m okay.
“Gorgeous but clumsy. Is the president’s new fling too dangerous to be around him?” a girl says, shoving a microphone against my lips. “You were seen dancing with him. With two left feet like that, do you think that was really wise?”
“What the hell is wrong with you people?”
With a slight shove, I get the microphones and cameras out of my face, waving my arm then giving them all a nice dose of the finger before stomping back through the door of my apartment building.
The last thing I hear before slamming it shut is, “Is the president’s new fling violent?”
I can’t even begin to express how thankful I am to live in a secure building right now.
I look down at my hand and swallow hard as it shakes uncontrollably. But it’s not just my hand shaking; it’s my entire body that’s trembling thanks to the rush of adrenaline.
At my feet, Duke whimpers. The large crowd certainly scared him just as much as it scared me.
“It’s okay, boy. There’s no way they’re getting in here.”
On the other side of the door, the horde of paparazzi and journalists are yelling to get my attention.
I take a couple of deep breaths in the hopes of calming myself and lead Duke away from the door to the elevator. I’m having to lean against the wall to keep myself from falling over.
Never in a million years would I have seen this coming just from having a dance with Henry—and thank God in heaven that they don’t know what happened later after the state dinner.
My phone is already buzzing against my kitchen table when we walk through the threshold of our home.
I ignore it as I struggle to take off Duke’s leash. Once freed, he goes straight for my bedroom, and I go straight for the fridge to grab a bottle of water. I drink about half of it in one go, but it does nothing to calm my nerves.
My gaze falls to my half empty bottle of wine on top of the fridge.
If there was ever a time to take up day drinking, now was it.
My fingers wrap about the dark green bottle, and I yank the cork from it.
The sweet red Merlot tastes amazing—but it’s not any better than the water to calm my nerves.
My phone finally stops buzzing, and I grab it off the table.
I don’t know what possesses me to do it, but I pull up Hope’s number before another call comes in and dial it.
“Morning Beat—”
“Hope, I need help,” I cut her off in my panic.
“Bea, what’s going on?”
“Paparazzi. New York Times. Other tabloids. Everyone is out front of my apartment building right now. They ambushed me while I was taking Duke out for his morning walk, and now I don’t know what to do.”
“Alright. I’m on it. Don’t leave your apartment.”
She’s incredibly calm, and that does help to calm my nerves.
“Thank you.”
“Don’t worry about it, Bea. Just grab a drink and hold tight.”
“Oh, I’m way ahead of you there.”
She hangs up on her end, and I look down at the wine bottle held tightly in my hand. My knuckles are almost white from my death grip.
I take another drink—as Hope suggested—and sit down at my table.
Now to wait.