Page 19 of Grift

“Paige, what a pleasure to see you,” James moves to embrace the reporter. “You are beautiful as ever. We are always grateful to the inches you give the Trinity. Or should I say, we’re always willing to fill your inches.”

I know he means column inches, but something about the way he says it and the way he openly leers makes my skin crawl. This is a man who walks tone deafly through every situation, thinking women are interested in him sexually. Or maybe just not caring if they actually are.

“But I see you stumbled into the real story that’s got everyone here excited at Trinity HQ and of course at Senator Kensington’s offices. We’ve been working hard to keep it under wraps for obvious reasons, security you know with Ms. Kensington’s high-profile family and all. What do you say to an exclusive that you can run Sunday this weekend, as soon as the deal is sealed?” He gives us a bright smile that looks on the surface like paternal pride, but holds a clear threat.

My stomach drops. It’s like he laid a trap and I stepped in it, and now all I can do is watch it ensnare my ankle and squeeze shut.

“Wait,” Paige freezes. “James. You’re telling me that these two are getting married?”

She narrows her eyes. “That’s not possible. I’ve heard nothing about this, about any connection or involvement between these two, never mind a wedding. And don’t feed me a bullshit line about security.”

I hate the press, but in this moment, I like her.

But I also see now that we’re more stuck than ever.

It’s quickly clear that any trap she lays isn’t just for the Carneys; it’s for me too. I might be in the most danger of all.

She’s staring at me hard, weighing her words. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but there are certain rumors…”

I instantly feel lightheaded. Maybe my father has really shielded me.

Patrick looks like he’s going to punch the wall, but he manages to get himself under control. When he speaks, it’s through a tight smile. “Rumors that I’m lifelong bachelor? No doubt. But look, let’s be real. Jessica Kensington is as beautiful as she is brilliant, and if she’s brave enough to take a chance on a hothead like me, you better believe I’m putting a ring on it before she comes to her senses.”

Bridget makes a little strangled noise when Patrick says “put a ring on it” and despite myself, despite the terrible circumstances, his deflection may have just saved me from hyperventilating.

“Where is your engagement ring?” Paige stares at my naked hand with skeptical interest.

“It’s being sized,” Patrick says coolly, and there’s something in his voice that makes me think that’s actually true, a detail that’s also contributing to the lightheaded feeling.

He looks at me, and finally, I give a little nod. I don’t know what else to do.

Patrick might not want to marry me, and he might be a dangerous man. But in just a few days, he’s shown an interest in what I want and an instinct to protect me. Finding a way to work together, even if it means going slightly off course with this marriage thing, might finally get me free of this whole mess. I don’t know how, but trusting him seems like the best option I have right now.

He smiles brightly. “Listen Paige, my father and Grace can fill you in on the details and I’ll be back in a few. If you have questions for Jessica, email them to me and we’ll get back to you with answers by tomorrow. But she was just stopping by on her lunch break, and needs to get back to work.”

He gives me a slightly blank look. I realize he has no idea what I even do for a living. Senator’s daughter might define my life’s trajectory, but it doesn’t define me. He ushers me out into the hallway, past Bridget who gives my arm a squeeze, and to the elevator where he punches the button.

“Did you drive here?”

I shake my head.

“I’m calling you a car. It’ll take you where you need to go,” he looks back over his shoulder. “O’Connor’s a viper but I’ll handle it. You have my word.”

“Thank you, Patrick.”

He gives me a tight nod. But as he turns to go, I reach out and capture his wrist. My fingers barely close around his thick boned arm. He turns back, a curious expression in his bright blue eyes.

“An Egyptologist. I’m an Egyptologist. I work at the Harvard museums as a curator,” I say, having no idea why I’m telling him this.

His eyes widen appreciatively, and he rewards me with a hard-won smile.

“Jessica,” he says, his voice suddenly husky. The elevator dings, and the doors slide open. “If you really don’t want to do this…”

His voice trails off, and the elevator gives an annoying warning sound when he shoves a hand in the doors to keep them from closing. He looks back at the office where the Globe reporter, his father, and the newest development sealing our fate wait impatiently to move this whole thing forward.

“Speak now or forever hold my peace?” I say, weakly.

He barks a laugh, that’s rich, deep and unexpected. “Something like that, yeah.”

His eyes grow serious and his face takes on a sober look. “You didn’t come here to ask me about your brother, did you?”

I shake my head. “No. But regardless of what you and I may or may not want, it’s quickly becoming clear that getting disentangled is going to be complicated.”

He gives me one, sharp nod. “Moving forward might be our best option. The only option.” He runs a hand through his hair, and it sticks up in this wild way. I have to fight a visceral urge to reach out and brush it down.

“Sunday, then?”

I step into the elevator and force a bright smile. “Sunday,” I say, before the doors swoop closed. Alone, in the elevator, I sag against the steel handrail and allow myself one silent sob before the elevator reaches the ground floor.

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