Against the Odds: Book One; The Candidate

by Lee Taylor

  Gia shrugged. “Suffice it to say, we are no longer engaged.”

  When she started to walk off the stage, the crowd of reporters charged the podium, shouting their questions, literally accosting her.

  Logan growled in fury and practically yelled into his cell phone, “Goddammit, where are your guys? Well, they sure as fuck better show a little more muscle.”

  Seeing the coterie of bouncers forming a protective ring around her, he agreed with his contact at the police station that if anyone could get her off the stage safely, the fearsome quartet could do that and more. He was horrified to learn from the onsite crew that once inside the office building, Gia agreed to give several one-on-one interviews with local reporters. While he acknowledged it was smart politics to give the locals a scoop, he knew it had to be draining as hell. But at least she was not standing in the bright sunlight surrounded by a raving mass of media whores shouting question after question at her.

  It was nearly four hours later when he finally connected with Granger. He’d been sure that was where she would go, but his contacts had assured him that she was nowhere in sight at the HT&M. They indicated that there was a ring of newshounds three layers deep outside of her house and at their campaign headquarters. Apparently, Ben, Kaila, and Emma had stayed behind to handle the barrage of phone calls.

  Granger’s voice over the ether was thick with pain. “I’ve been tryin’ to reach you, man. I couldn’t find your card. Didn’t know who else to call. I knew she wouldn’t listen to anyone, but you might be able to convince her to go with you. She’s bad, dude. As bad as I’ve ever seen her. Worse than when Big Bart went down. She’s totally hit the wall.” He added, “Don’t come in the front. We’ve got her sequestered in the back of the bar. Come through the alley. I’ll have my guys watch for you.”

  Parking in the grungy alleyway, Logan was grateful when the door opened and two of the men he’d seen at the press conference motioned him in. He was surprised to see Gia crouched in the last booth in the back of the bar. A cadre of muscled men was parked around the booth. One of them nodded for him to come forward. “We was waiting for you. Granger told us if any reporter tried to get within one hundred feet of that booth, we was to cut his fuckin’ balls off.”

  It was clear from their fearsome expressions that the coterie of bodyguards would do that and more. Striding over to the booth, Logan heard a clearly inebriated Gia order Granger to bring her more booze and bring it now! Logan didn’t know if he’d ever forget the heartbreaking sight of the three-hundred pound man, tears streaming down his haggard face, begging Gia to eat. Instead, she turned her fury on the burly man. “Dammit, Granger, can’t you see I’m having a breakdown? What the fuck kind of a friend are you? Forget the food. And forget these itty-bitty glasses. They aren’t cutting it tonight. Bring me a goddamned bottle, an unopened one. Now!”

  Logan moved forward next to Granger. “Hold that order. I think our little political hotshot has had more than enough of that cheap booze.” His voice was edged with disgust. “Really, Gia, if you’re going to drink yourself into a stupor, the least you can do is drink decent booze.”

  When she looked up at him through bleary eyes, startled, he reached for her and hauled her out of the booth. Wrapping his arm securely around her waist, he started toward the door. Nodding to the big man who was scrubbing at the moisture on his cheeks, Logan said, “It’s okay, Granger. I’ve got her now. Trust me, I won’t let them get to her.”

  He dragged her into the alley. When it was clear she wasn’t ambulatory, he scooped her up in his arms and deposited her in the front seat of his Ferrari convertible. Rounding the high-end automobile, he climbed into the driver’s seat, then reached over and fastened the restraint across her limp body. Slamming the powerful engine in gear, he roared out of the alley, heading for the back roads, determined to ditch any reporters who might have spotted his sleek ride leaving the HT&M. Closing in on his condominium, he congratulated himself that at least for now, the intrusive media hadn’t discovered that the hottest media target of the year had been captured by none other than Logan Fowler, a media superstar in his own right. He groaned, imagining the uproar when and if that scintillating tidbit was exposed.

  Pulling into his reserved garage, he thanked his penchant for privacy that the garage could only be entered with his personal remote. The private elevator that whisked him up fifty-five stories opened directly into his penthouse condominium. Assuming that Gia had passed out, he was preparing to carry her to the elevator when she mumbled, “Logan?”

  “Yes, princess?”

  “Why?”

  “Why what, sweetheart?”

  “Why are you here . . . and . . . ah . . . where are we?”

  Crouching beside the open passenger door, he met her bleary gaze. “We’re at my condo, Gia. It’s the only place where I’m sure that those rabid media whores can’t get to you.”

  She blinked her eyes and made an effort to focus on his face. “But why are you here?”

  Understanding her unspoken question, he exhaled an audible breath. “Because, goddammit, there’s no place in the world that I would rather be. And because if anyone tries to get to you, they’ll face the most ferocious son of a bitch they’ll ever run up against in their sorry lives.”

  Her head lolled back against the leather seat, then she squinted as if struggling to see him. “Logan?”

  “Yeah, honey?”

  “I . . . I thought you were mad at me.”

  “I was, and I am. I still can’t believe you took on that reprehensible degenerate Maxwell all by yourself and that you didn’t bother to call me to help you.” He added with a snort, “At the same time, I’m impressed as hell with what you did. I don’t know when I’ve seen a more courageous response to what was a gutshot of gargantuan proportions.”

  When it looked as though she was drifting off, he unsnapped her seat belt and murmured, “I’m going to pick you up now, Gia, and carry you up to my condo.”

  She frowned, then grimaced. “I don’t feel good, Logan.”

  “I’m sure you don’t, sweetheart. I’ll carry you as carefully as I can. I’ll try not to jostle you.”

  Chapter 21

  Entering the spacious rooftop condominium, every room flanked by floor-to-ceiling windows, Logan marveled as he always did that the architect had created a sense of being suspended in space. Logan had been wowed by the spectacular interior and was equally impressed with the lush garden patios banking three sides of the extraordinary complex. Carrying Gia into his spacious bedroom, he gently laid her down on the king-sized bed, trying not to wake her. It didn’t occur to him that he would put her anywhere but by his side tonight.

  Seeing her wrinkled sweater and skinny jeans, he realized that she must have changed at Granger’s. The slim skirt and tailored blouse she’d worn at the news conference was picture-perfect for the challenging event. While they couldn’t hide her extraordinary body, the outfit was professional and spoke to the seriousness of the occasion. In contrast, the skintight jeans and sweater emphasized her curvy body. Acknowledging that she was truly dead to the world, he snagged one of his warmer tee shirts, then turned to the task of preparing her for bed. Slipping off her boots and stockings, he managed to strip off the skintight jeans. He couldn’t suppress his groan upon seeing her miniscule black lace thong. Forcing himself to continue, he eased the sweater over her head and shook his head in wonder at her bodacious breasts encased in a sexy push-up, black lace bra.

  Deciding that he’d have his housekeeper launder her clothes so they would be fresh in the morning, he carefully unfastened her bra, then slipped it off along with her thong. Chastising himself for being an egregious asshole, not to mention a perverted voyeur, he allowed himself to revel in her beautiful body. Her luscious breasts and curvy hips and ass were provocative as hell no matter what she wore. Gazing at her lush, naked glory, he wasn’t surprised that he had to blink back the moisture threatening the backs of his eyelids at the sight of the beau
tiful woman. Reaching for his tee shirt, he slipped it over her head and pulled it down, relieved that it was almost knee-length on her.

  At that moment, she cried out. Knowing that she was under the influence of way too much cheap alcohol, he wasn’t surprised that her sleep was restless. Lying beside her, it was soon clear to him that she was reliving the hideous events she’d suffered in the last twenty-four hours. Throughout the night she slept for an hour or two, then cried out, sobbing over and over, “No, God, no! Please, no.” He lay beside her, holding her, gently stroking her back when she struggled against him, then rocked her back to sleep in his arms. As angry as he was at what that degenerate asshole Maxwell had done to this proud, indomitable woman, he was grateful that he’d found her and brought her home with him. He silently thanked Granger. He knew how desperately angry the big man was at what had happened. Logan was grateful that he trusted him, a man he barely knew, enough to turn over the young woman he loved as a daughter. As he dozed and then came to life each time she cried out, Logan gave himself credit. Lying next to the woman he passionately craved, he marveled that somehow, some way, he managed to keep his fearsome arousal at least partially under control.

  ****

  “Thank you, Mrs. Oldham. I appreciate you taking care of this for me as quickly as you did.”

  Accepting the stack of freshly laundered clothes from the bird-like little woman smiling up at him, Logan continued. “I’m confident that my guest will sleep for several more hours and will be glad to have clean clothes to put on when she wakens.” Ignoring his housekeeper’s knowing nod at what was likely transpiring behind the closed master bedroom door, he reached for his wallet and retrieved a C-note and pressed it into her hand. “Please accept this with my thanks and take the rest of the weekend off.” At her surprised exclamation, he insisted. “I plan to spend the weekend at home with my guest and won’t need your services.” He smiled at her and nodded at the bill he’d given her. “Accept that as a token of my thanks, and take that long-suffering husband of yours out to dinner. Both of you deserve a night out.”

  An hour later, Logan heard retching sounds emanating from the master bathroom. He wasn’t surprised. It was a miracle that her body had managed to make it through the night without ridding itself of the noxious alcoholic overload Gia had consumed. Knowing that she would be mortified if he witnessed her indignity, he waited until the retching stopped, then rapped on the door and entered. She was sitting on the floor, her eyes closed, leaning against the wall. Her legs were splayed out in front of her as if they had given out, dropping her to the floor. She was pale, shaking. He didn’t miss the tears on her face. She looked like a small child who’d been abandoned and left to her misery.

  Logan was careful. “Hey, princess, how are you doing?”

  She looked up and then shook her head in obvious distress. “Please, please, Logan. Go. I . . . I don’t feel good.”

  When he raised a sympathetic brow, she spit out angrily, “I know. For God’s sake, do you think I don’t know that I look like hell?”

  He shrugged, suppressing the sympathetic smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He wanted to tell her that if anything, she looked pathetic, abandoned. It was hard as hell not to go to her and scoop her up in his arms and hold her as he had throughout the night. Instead, he said blandly, “Let’s just say that I’ve seen you look better.”

  She frowned when she saw that he was holding her clothes. A shock of recognition flitted across her frowning mien. Glancing down, she seemed to realize that she was wearing his tee shirt. Her eyes widened in dismay. A horrified groan escaped her lips. Snagging an audible breath, she stammered, “I . . . I don’t understand. Why . . . why am I wearing . . . ” She shook her head and then her eyes widened, askance. “Oh my God, were we . . . did we . . . ?” Her question trailed off into the depths of her embarrassed despair.

  Logan guffawed—a sound between a disgusted grunt and a laugh. Doing his best to suppress his humor, he said ironically, “Ah, no, Gia. I know you think I’m an overbearing asshole, but even I don’t take advantage of drunk, ‘out of their mind’ young women. No, sweetheart, you can relax. We didn’t do it.” He added with a chuckle, “Trust me, little girl, if we had, you would know it.” Given her dismayed acknowledgement that he must have undressed her, he decided it would be bad form to tell her that he’d not only stripped her naked but had reveled in her gorgeous body. He also didn’t reveal that throughout the long, trying night, he’d held her in his arms, doing his best to comfort the shattered woman.

  Taking control of the situation, he changed the subject and said carefully, “I’m confident that the idea of food is anathema to you. But I have to believe that a shower would be welcome.” When she didn’t answer, instead determinably stared at the floor, he put the stack of clothes on the counter and said, “How about you hop in the shower and scrub off as much as you can of what is certain to be a vicious hangover? I’ll leave your clothes here. I’ll also leave another couple of Advils if you think your gut can handle them.” He glanced at his watch. “I have a nine o’clock meeting but will be back by ten-thirty at the latest. When I get back, we’ll decide what we can do to make this day a hell of a lot better than the one you survived yesterday.” When she didn’t answer, just shook her head, refusing to meet his gaze, he said seriously, “And please, Gia, remember you not only survived that hideous day, but you were the epitome of grace under pressure. I’m in awe of you.”

  When he returned two hours later, she was gone.

  ****

  After she spent at least twenty minutes in the shower, marveling at the impressive marble, steel, and glass structure, Gia reached for one of the fluffy bath towels. She quickly discovered that the plush wonder was a bath sheet big enough to wrap herself in. As if that was not luxurious enough, a peek at the label indicated that the towels were made of bamboo. Shaking her head at the sheer opulence of the bathroom that was the size of the bedroom in her modest house, she decided that she needed to see the rest of the spectacular place. Wrapped in the soft, plush wonder, she scurried from the bathroom to the adjoining room that turned out to be his closet.

  She stepped into the surprising closet that must have been created by a skilled designer accustomed to working with the most demanding clients. The outsized room could have held three of her closets. Along one wall, an array of shirts hung at one level, next to a collection of pants. Eight narrow floor-to-ceiling shelves held shoes, boots, and sandals. On the opposing wall were suit coats, casual jackets, and outdoor and sports gear. Assuming that the five-drawer chest held underwear and likely jewelry, Gia began to feel like an intrusive voyeur. Quickly leaving his private space, she walked into the living room that she soon discovered, except for the bedrooms, made up the rest of the condominium. The most remarkable element of the daunting circular structure was the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the entire space. The beautiful teak floors featured strategically placed rugs or unusual floor coverings designating the different living spaces. The living room flowed into the dining area and finally to a chef-designed, ultra-modern kitchen.

  Overcome by the remarkable artwork, elegant furniture, and awe-inspiring luxury, Gia dashed for the safety of the bedroom. Which she quickly decided was a major mistake. Recognizing the huge king-size bed that she’d leapt from when she got sick earlier, Gia faced a hard truth. Seeing the rumpled, oversized bed, there was no question that both she and Logan had slept in the imposing bed. His compelling scent wasn’t the only clue. It was the ragged memories assaulting her fried brain that insisted she acknowledge the daunting truth. Apparently, he had taken off all her clothes, dressed her in one of his tee shirts without a damn thing underneath, and then crawled in bed next to her. At that moment, she allowed herself to remember her tortured dreams, how she’d cried in fright reliving the hideous day. It was then that she admitted what happened next. Logan had held her, comforted her, and lulled her back to sleep—a sequence that she now knew had repeated itself througho
ut the night. Until . . . she awoke and fled to the bathroom where she vomited her insides out for what had seemed like hours. An indignity that he surely heard but had the grace not to interrupt.

  Truly horrified at her compromising circumstances, she knew that she couldn’t spend another minute in this extraordinary place that confirmed the chasms between her and Logan. She had to leave . . . now. Throwing the towel on the bathroom floor, she dragged her wet hair into a bedraggled ponytail and yanked her clothes from the previous night over her damp body. She wondered how the hell he’d gotten them washed and dried but assumed that he had an on-call maid service or, God forbid, had called on Arnold the Arrogant to tidy up after his disheveled guest. Remembering that he said he would be back at ten-thirty, she dashed into the elevator and rode it the ground floor of the imposing building. Relieved that, for once, the gods were with her and her Uber driver was waiting out front.

  The events of the previous day became glaringly real when she cruised by the HT&M where she assumed she’d left her car. Before they turned the corner, to her incredulity, she saw a herd of media vans replete with cameras and reporters surrounding the neighborhood bar. Ducking down in the backseat, she instructed the driver to go by her house and then the campaign office. Dismayed, she saw that both were overrun by the intrusive media. Feeling trapped and frantically needing to be alone, she instructed the driver to take her to Henson’s Pier. Sturgeon Lake had been one of her favorite childhood haunts when she was a child. When she’d had enough of the smoke-filled rooms and boisterous hard-drinking men holding forth in her father’s court, she would slip away. Hopping on her bike, she would pedal the two-plus miles to the hidden lake. Loving the serenity of the lapping waves compared to the hubbub of her father’s home court, she’d spend hours pretending that she was a mythical warrior who roamed the Seven Seas. In all her battles—which she always won—her captives were astonished that the fearsome sailor turned out to be a beautiful woman.