Page 66 of The Press Secretary's Passion
“No,” I gasp and point over to my work area. “On the desk.”
I let myself fall down from my knees to my backside as he walks over to my desk. He flips through the photos and reads the note. His face becomes hard, and even I would find him a little terrifying if it weren’t on my behalf.
“Fuck,” he bites out. “I was hoping you were pregnant.”
“You think I’m pregnant?” I squeak.
“You just hurled in a trashcan,” he reminds me. “And you and Black aretogethertogether.”
“Yeah, and…?” I ask.
“Two plus two is four, honey,” he says gently. He must recognize the confused look on my face. “Are you guys using any protection at all?”
My cheeks burn with embarrassment as I catch his drift. “Umm… no. Not really.” His eyes gentle, and I know what he’s thinking I’m a Grade-A idiot, because I should have been using some kind of contraceptive instead of enjoying myself and throwing caution to the wind. “I’m probably not pregnant. It’s just stress.”
“Sure,” he says before pulling his cell phone out of his pocket.
“You’re not going to tell Ryan I’m pregnant, are you?” I rush to ask, and he smiles at me.
“No, Jules,” he tells me gently. “That’s for you two to figure out together.”
“Thanks,” I whisper.
“No problem.” And then he begins to unlock his phone and press a bunch of buttons.
“You said you wouldn’t call!” I practically shout, and his eyes cut to me.
Someone on the other end of the line must have answered, because Rick looks back to the photos spread across my desk now and says, “Lock Black down. And get Ghost too. Yeah. It’s bad.”
And then he ends the call.
“I’m not thinking that was a good conversation,” I mutter.
“No, honey, it was not,” he says as he delicately stacks the items from the envelope and stuffs them back inside.
He offers me a hand and does not flinch at all that I probably smell like puke. He wraps an arm around my shoulders in a brotherly hug. “It’s going to be okay. We won’t let anything happen to you.”
“It’s not me I’m worried about.”
“We’ll work it out,” he says softly.
And then he leads me out of my office and down the hall. He has the envelope tucked under his arm so it’s not easily spotted. We make our way through the halls and down to a conference room that is not monitored by closed circuit video cameras.
Rick does not knock; he just pushes open the door where Ryan and Jake are squared off against one another. Gus, Jake’s number one Secret Service Agent, steps aside so we can enter, and we do so quietly.
“What the fuck is going on here?” Ryan roars. He’s pissed. When Rick said to lock him down, he apparently meant literally. And Ryan does not look happy about it.
“I think I can answer that,” Rick says as we push farther into the room.
“Jules?” He takes one look at me and asks, “Are you all right, baby? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
There’s that word again—ghost. I hope to never hear it ever again.
“No, Ryan,” I say with a shaky voice. “I’m not okay.”
“What’s going on?” he asks again.
Rick produces the envelope from under his arm and holds it up for everyone to see before he begins his explanation.
