Still he said nothing, those somber brown eyes simply assessing her, and she was certain she didn’t like the conclusion she felt in them. “You don’t understand. This has nothing to do with fear they’ll talk me into coming back, or even ‘guilt me’ into aiding my father’s career goals, no matter how grand. I just don’t want to listen to them tell me why all my decisions are wrong. I’m free of that. I’m finally doing what I want to do. I’m going after what I want.”
“Which is what?” he said, finally speaking.
Which was what? She didn’t know and that terrified her almost as much as he did. She didn’t know. Flustered, Sabrina pushed to her feet. “I’ll call. Later. But we should go.”
They barely spoke on the short walk to the car-rental place, and Sabrina didn’t know how to reach out to Ryan. He was like a stranger, shut off and quiet. Her chest began to feel heavy, a flutter of fear inside her. She’d upset him. She had to fix it. By the time they were in the rental car, though, she wasn’t sure what to say and he wasn’t talking either.
A few minutes later, and only a couple of blocks, she pulled the rental car into the office garage where Ryan had left his truck. “Ryan—”
He popped the door open. “Ask me what I want.”
“What?”
“Ask me what I want, Sabrina.”
That fluttery horrible feeling expanded, darn near stole her voice, but somehow she did as he requested. “What do you want, Ryan?”
“You,” he said. “That’s my answer, without any question or hesitation. But it wasn’t your answer. You didn’t know how to answer. Like I said, I’m good at playing the temporary game, Sabrina, and one of the biggest rules is to walk away if your emotions get involved. So I’m walking away. If you ever figure out what you want, give me a call.” He got out and shut the door.
She had sat there for several stunned moments, here yes burning, when her cell phone rang. Her heart skipped a beat as she scrambled for it, hoping it was Ryan. Without checking caller ID, she answered.
“Where are you?” a male voice asked. It was Frank.
She swallowed against the knot in her throat. “In the parking lot.”
“I’ll be waiting for you in your office.” He hung up.
For an instant, she contemplated driving away. She wasn’t up to dealing with Frank. Somehow, she pulled herself together and went upstairs.
As promised, Frank was at her door. He eased back to let her inside. Sabrina set her purse on the desk and pressed her fingers to the steel surface.
All week, he’d pressured her on the mayor’s meeting with the wife, and she’d stalled. Given him updates that lead nowhere on purpose, hoping the story would die. But she had to stop playing this game. She had to stop letting everyone push her around.
“We need to talk,” came Frank’s gruff comment from the doorway.
She shoved the file on her desk to the edge. “You’re right. We do. There’s your file on the mayor. I’m done. I can do this kind of story in New York.”
“I understand you’re upset about being exposed, Sabrina,” he said. “But the damage is done, and wasn’t it inevitable? Take some time to calm down and then let’s talk.”
“Exposed?” she asked. “What are you talking about?”
Surprised flickered across his gruff features. “You haven’t seen the paper?”
“What paper?” Her stomach fluttered with nerves all over again. “What’s going on?”
He leaned out the door and yelled. “Kate! Bring me the Tribune.”
In a matter of seconds that felt like hours, the paper appeared. Frank flung it on her desk. On the bottom right-hand corner of the front page it read, “With a play for the presidential candidacy expected, did U.S. Senator Jeffery Cameron force his daughter into hiding to silence her challenging rhetoric?”
“‘Challenging rhetoric,’” she muttered in disgust.
Sabrina sat down. Not only had she been found, but her reason for relocating was now all about her father. She was so tired of this kind of mess.
What would Ryan think now?
“I need to go, Frank,” she said, grabbing the paper and her purse.
“What do you mean, go?”
“I mean go,” she said. “Now.” He stepped aside.
“As in quitting?”
“I don’t know, Frank.” She passed him and then stopped. Turned back. “Yes. I quit.” Those words felt good. Liberating. She didn’t know what was next, but she knew she didn’t want to do what she was doing anymore. The paper had been the familiar. She’d clung to the past. And it was wrong.
She knew now her future was Ryan. If it wasn’t too late.
She headed down the hallway and Frank called after her, “What about the next installment of the Marco spread?”
She raised her hand. “I’ll call you.”
“Sabrina.” Kate, the receptionist, was holding up an envelope as Sabrina passed her desk. “This came for you, marked urgent.” It was a white envelope, letter-size, just like the others.