Page 80 of Blind Prophet

“You mean everyone turns a blind eye?”

“If Congress had an issue with it, they could create laws preventing conflicts of interest.”

“That won’t happen.”

Over the years, my analysis of classified contracts revealed layers of shell companies and international holdings that would take years to untangle. The kind of structure that sets off every red flag in intelligence circles, all because someone is hiding involvement. All those politicians? If you passed a law saying they couldn’t serve with conflicts of interest, they’d work around the law, just like they did back when conflicts of interest were frowned upon.

“It’s not a system I created. You understand that, right?”

“Couldn’t you win the contracts without having to enter the political arena? Isn’t that what your sales force is for?”

“Certainly. And, no matter what you are inclined to believe, I didn’t actively pursue the role. When rumors started, I didn’t dispel them. Me as chief of staff? It’s an unlikely turn of events. But it’s good for business. So, I’ve played along. That’s different than actively pursuing it or wanting it.” With tenderness, he reaches for my hand and deftly brushes his thumb over my knuckles. When my gaze lifts to his, he says, “I haven’t been asked and haven’t committed. It’s noise.”

“You tossed your hat in,” I say, repeating his earlier words.

“In a manner of speaking.”

Of course, what he does isn’t my business. It doesn’t affect me. But the intensity of his gaze and the warmth of his hand do.

“If you told me not to do it, I wouldn’t.”

“Why would I tell you not to do it?”

“If it’s not the life you want, I won’t?—”

“I’m not in your life.”

“But I want you to be.”

“I’d never ask you to walk away from something you wanted.”

His hand drops. “Like I made you do? That’s what you’re saying, right?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

He hates that phrase. Any second, he’ll jump on his computer, and I won’t hear from him for hours.

“If I had a do-over, I’d do things differently. I wouldn’t have expected your schedule to conform to mine. That was…” He huffs, the sound a mix of frustration and amusement. “You can close your mouth.”

“I’m shocked. That’s as close to an apology as you’ve ever come.”

His lips curve into a smirk, but he quickly grows somber.

“I don’t know why I was conforming to my father’s expectations. The man’s gone through eight wives. He should’ve been the last person I attempted to emulate.”

“Eight? Is he married now?”

“No. His eighth wife died a couple of years ago.”

“Oh. I missed that.”

“She was about your age.”

“Oh.”

This time, the huff he emits is definitely akin to amusement. “Yeah. I didn’t know her well, as you’d probably expect. She traveled a lot. Went to Greece with a group of friends. She drowned.”

“What?”

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