“When we started dating, the man wouldn’t let me near a campaign meeting,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “He said it was no place for a woman like me. Even though I came from that kind of world, as you know, my father being as much of a business man and statesman as his, he tried to shelter me from the ins-and-outs that he saw that maybe I didn’t. It caused some conflict.”
“How did you fix it?”
Her smile lights up the room. “Well, first of all, I tried to remember that it came from a good place. Would I have wanted him to show no regard for my safety? No. Of course not. Then I showed him how strong I was. I learned about campaigns, I brought tea and water into the strategy rooms and didn’t flinch. I showed him if this was what he was going to do, which I knew when I started dating him, that I was going to do it too. At least in a support role. Because that’s what makes a relationship, Camilla. The support. The shoulder. The ear that listens. That’s where the love and respect and true collaboration lie. Not in anything else.”
I glance at the clock on the wall. “Mom, would it be terrible if I left early tonight?”
“Typically, yes. You know I think we should be the last to leave.”
My heart sinks.
“But,” she whispers, “I heard you had a sore throat and just couldn’t take it anymore.”
I kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Mom.”
“Get out of here before your daddy sees you.”
Camilla
HE’S NOT ANSWERING HIS PHONE, so that means he’s at the gym. It’s the only time he doesn’t answer me or at least quick-text me back.
Still in my yellow dress and heels, I navigate my car onto the dimly-lit road that leads to Percy’s. There are people on the street corners, looking at me like they’ll stick a gun in my window if I slow down too much. So I don’t. Actually, I get a little heavy on the accelerator.
A calendar flips through my head and I realize Dom fights in a couple of days. He’s stopped talking about it, other than to infer he’s generically training. There are no reports of the date or his opponent or what tactics he’s going to use or how much he hates Bond. He’s just slowed down from any casual mention at all.
If he’s going to fight, I’m going to be there with my pom-poms in the air. Maybe I can get Ford to teach me a thing or two before then. Just the basics, like Mom said.
I pull to the curb and cut the lights and ignition and scan the parking lot for any creepers. It’s not well-lit but it’s better than the roads. There are lights on inside and my car is parked next to his. There’s one other small compact car by the door.
Hopping out and dashing to the front as best I can in heels, praying it’s unlocked, I pull it open.
There are no chimes like at a regular business to alert the workers someone has walked in. Some of the lights that hang from the ceiling are on and some off, making the room a bit moody.
Glancing around, I don’t see signs of anyone. I don’t hear anything either. I’m about ready to call out his name when I see a shadow in the ring in the back.
With a wide smile, I dart in that direction but slow when it’s not Dom’s voice I hear. Instead, I hear one I vaguely remember.
“Does that feel better?” It’s a woman’s voice that’s cooing thr
ough the room. It’s her voice, Red’s, the one from The Gold Room the day I walked into Nate’s office and saw her sitting with Dominic.
My blood turns to ice. Suddenly, I can hear everything, see everything, almost taste the feeling in the room.
Her giggle cuts through me like a chainsaw. “Hold still and I’ll put some of this on it.”
“There’s no way to get it on where it hurts with the bandage.”
“Should I take it back off? Man, I’m bad at this nursing thing.”
“Yes, you are,” he laughs.
The warmth of his chuckle, the easiness of it ringing through the air, pelts me. I almost gasp.
“Bond gets you with that hook every time,” she says. “Have you thought about throwing a left hook on the inside when he throws wide?”
“Yeah, I have. I’m impressed, Hannah.”
“Well, don’t be,” she flirts. “I heard Percy telling someone a few days ago. I just borrowed the lingo.”