Since he hadn’t given her any idea what they were going to do, she’d picked out a sundress. The light, linen fabric was cool and flowy, both casual and dressy. Now though, with Oliver wearing jeans and a dark gray T-shirt, she was second guessing her choices.
“Why are we here?” Her curiosity was getting the better of her.
“Shh.” He laid his finger across his lips and held up his phone. “We’re hunting.”
“We cannot hunt in the Smithsonian.” That was just…disrespectful.
“Sure we can.” He pointed to a sign a few feet away.
Welcome Monster-Go Masters!
Well, damn.
There was some smaller print under the bold heading, but Oliver was already pulling her in the opposite direction.
“How’d you know about this?” She quickly pulled the app up and glanced around. “An event like this should have been on my groups…”
Then again, she hadn’t exactly pursued the conversations in her groups since the dinner.
There were families, groups of people and couples all roaming around. Looking at their phones. Just like them.
Okay, this was ingenious. She had to hand it to the Smithsonian people. What better ploy to get people to visit and spend time around national monuments than the game?
“Someone mentioned it in a briefing earlier this week. I thought you’d like to hang out in the library, Smarty-Pants.” He grinned and bumped her shoulder with his.
Be still my beating heart.
Of course he’d picked this, knowing it would hit her right in the heart. Why wouldn’t he? And yet…it was thoughtful. Wonderfully so. And still a little competitive. Somehow, this game was hitting the mark for both of them when little else in their lives intersected.
“How’d you level up so fast?” Oliver gave her the stink eye, which was pretty cute. “It can’t just be time on your hands.”
“I’m part of like, six different groups. Two for my team, and four more that are specific to types of spawns around the city. We share information, what’s showing up where.” She shrugged. “It makes a big difference when you know where to look for something, you know?”
“Hey, I think there’s something this way.” He pulled her through one room, into an atrium and out through a set of double glass doors.
Sam slowed to a stop, her ears practically tingling.
A set of pop-up tents shielded a quartet of strings.
“Are they playing…Zelda?” She glanced up at Oliver.
“Yup.” His grin was wider. Beaming.
He’d known.
And she didn’t care one bit.
They were playing the main score from the first Zelda game.
Sam nearly tripped over her own feet in her excitement.
Lily had never cared for games or anything besides school. Rashae, on the other hand, had fought their parents tooth and nail for console privileges and Sam had reaped the benefits. When Rashae had other things to do, Sam had the run of her games. Zelda had stolen her heart. She’d grown up playing and replaying the game until she had just about every world memorized.
“Hey, look!” Oliver nudged her and flashed his screen.
“Oh.” She jumped to see if the same monster was on her screen, but also to collect her thoughts.
Oliver was being thoughtful. What did this mean?
The heat in her belly had nothing to do with the temperature outside.
“Dang thing’s headbutting my balls,” Oliver grumbled.
She chuckled and glanced around. Oh, the ways someone could take that statement…
They’d been frenemies for so long. She still didn’t know what to expect with him.
“Did you get it?” Oliver’s hand slid around her waist and he peered over her shoulder. “Nine hundred combat power? Damn. Mine was only a four-fifty.”
“Yeah, that was a good catch. Thanks, but you know you probably shouldn’t help me. I am the enemy, you know?”
“Hey, friendly competition is good for the soul.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.
She knew that look. He was playing her, or maybe for her. She wasn’t sure which. Was he setting her up? Or was she the goal? Men had dated her to get closer to her father. Was Oliver up to something? If he was, Lily was an easier target. Sam was a thorn in his side.
“What’s that look for?” Oliver reached up and pushed her hair behind her ear.
“Nothing.”
“Sam…”
“Really, nothing.”
“Is this about last night?” His gaze dropped lower. “You’re wearing a skirt again.”
She pressed her thighs together and swallowed. If she closed her eyes she could still feel his hands… His fingers… His lips… The heat of him against her palm…
“Hey. Look at me, please?” He tugged her phone out of her hands, removing the only shield she had against him. He stared deep into her eyes, one side of his mouth hitched up. “There you are. Want to talk about last night?”
Sam swallowed.
Not really.
Giving in like that was irresponsible, stupid, childish, and just a sign of what he did to her. She forgot who she was when she was with him. It was so easy to get lost in him. What he made her feel. She wasn’t sure she liked the idea of it.
“Oliver, hey man.”
Crap.
Oliver turned and Sam hunched her shoulders, staring at her screen, literally hiding behind him. Why were they here? They were bound to run into someone they knew. So much for keeping this just between them.
Sophia hit print on the letter.
The courier would be here any moment. It was someone they could trust, who wouldn’t give her up. Everything was falling into place. And here she’d been worried about Tuesday’s vote. They had days to spare and everything to gain.
She smiled and picked up the small envelope.
The Secretary of State was about to get a shocking education about his staff and family’s fraternization. Oh, to be a fly on the wall when he opened this envelope…
If this worked, Hugues might just have a fighting chance. Maybe he’d be generous. She could do with a really great vacation.
Sophia rolled her shoulders and picked up the demand letter. These things had to be worded very carefully to avoid outright blackmail. Any intelligent person could read between the lines, and the new Secretary wasn’t a stupid man. He’d get the message. Now all she had to do was sit back and let things unfold according to plan.
8.
Oliver led Sam around the corner, to a sheltered alcove. Her hand was lifeless in his. Clammy. A bit cold despite the heat.
Damn it. He hadn’t expected to see one of the guys from the office out here today, but he should have. Tony had young children, and the Smithsonian’s Monster-Go events were a perfect outing.
“Sam? Hey, Sam, look at me.” He cupped her cheek.
Her eyes were wide and unfocused.
“We can’t do this, Oliver,” she blurted.
His knee-jerk reaction was to say no, argue the points with her, but that was pointless. Sam was a gifted debater, she thought fast on her feet, and if he argued, she’d dig in. He’d have to switch tactics, come at it from a different angle. He knew they would have to be honest with her family at some point, especially Mr. Grant, but he wanted it to be on Sam’s terms. When they were ready. And dare he think it, secure in how they felt about each other.
“What are we doing, Sam? We’re just hanging out. What’s so wrong about that? We’ve been friends for a long time. What’s so weird about us being out together?” He had to come in soft. Harmless. Disarm her. Yes, he was treating their relationship like a battle strategy, but when it came to Sam, he had to win over her head before he could capture her heart.
“I don’t know what we’re doing, but we can’t do it.” She paced away from him, turned and came back. Her hair was down, straight to her shoulders. He wanted to touch it, run his fingers through it, but now wasn’t the time.
“S
am, will you stop for a minute?” It was a trial to keep his tone easy, relaxed.
“What are we doing, Oliver?” She stopped abruptly, her gaze focused on him. He could see her father in her eyes. The way he’d bring his impressive intellect to study one thing. Sam had inherited that. She was brilliant. Period. Unlike any other woman he’d met.
“We’re hanging out at a library, listening to music and playing Monster-Go,” he replied, keeping his tone gentle, upbeat.
“No, what are we really doing? Last night…”
“What about it?” He had to work at keeping the hunger out of his voice. He wanted her. Always had. But if she knew how much, it might scare her off. Last night, though… Christ.
Her mouth worked, but he didn’t hear any words.
He’d felt her passion, tasted her desire and knew they could be good for each other. The chemistry was there. They just had to work on the rest of it. If he had enough time he could get her to see it, too. He knew it.
Oliver reached for her hands, taking them in his.
“Sam?”
“What?”
He opened his mouth, but his phone rang. And that ringtone meant trouble.
“Hold that thought.” He dug the phone out, his stomach knotting up at the name Timothy Grant on the screen. “Hello?”
“Oliver.”
“Yes, sir?”
“Bring my daughter to my office. Now.”
Oh, hell.
Oliver stared into Sam’s eyes.
Swear broke out along Oliver’s brow and despite the heat a chill swept his body. That was the tone Mr. Grant got when it was time for a war of words.
“Yes, sir.”
Samantha walked as if in a daze. She wished it took longer to get to Pennsylvania Avenue, that maybe she’d have gathered her thoughts, come up with something to say, but she couldn’t. The only words that came to mind were not the sort of things said in her father’s presence.
Oliver had finally stopped saying he was sorry. That was progress.
He kept glancing at her though, and she wanted to tell him to stop.
If her father knew about the pictures from college, the last thing they should do was act guilty. If they walked in with their tails between their legs, then others would be curious. There would be more questions.
For years, she’d resisted thinking about Oliver unless it was on her terms. Their short relationship. How he made her feel. And now she’d lost that ability. A constant parade of memories scrolled across the forefront of her mind.
All the times in the bleachers…
In Oliver’s car…
In the library…
In the park…
She should have never asked her parents about what happened in college. Of course they’d look into them. Want to know. Be prepared. She didn’t know what the pictures were of, when they’d been taken or what her father might have seen, and it didn’t matter. One was as bad as the next. In a few seconds, everything in her world would change.
Sam was vaguely aware of the staff at their desks, moving around quietly. It was a Sunday. The office was closed. And yet, several of her father’s top team were there. They didn’t look at her or Oliver.
Had they seen the pictures, too? Did they know?
“It’s going to be okay, Sam,” Oliver whispered.
He squeezed her hand.
She stared at the wooden, double doors that led to her father’s office.
How many sex scandals had this office seen?
Probably too many.
But this one was different, because…her father would never look at her the same again. After this, she would no longer be his darling, baby girl. She didn’t know what would happen, but things would never be the same.
Sam sucked in a deep breath and reached for the handle. Oliver beat her to it, whisking it open for her.
Shit.
Both her father and mother were there. And Lily. Just what Sam needed.
She noted the four other people in the room, all of whom would be on hand when the shit hit the fan. They were her father’s War Team. Those members of his staff that handled the most sensitive of things. Usually Oliver was among them. But not today.
She’d cost him that.
“Samantha.” Her mother stood at the windows, a tissue in hand. The way she looked at Sam…it was a warning layered with pain. Pain Sam had caused.
“Lord, save us.” Lily rolled her eyes and sighed like a petulant child.
“Give us the room.” Timothy rose from his desk.
The four staffers scurried out, closing the doors, while her dad circled the desk.
“Sir?” Oliver stepped forward, putting himself between Sam and her father.
“Save it, Oliver.” Timothy didn’t even look at Oliver. Sam’s father’s gaze bored straight into her skull. “We have a situation. Someone delivered these to the house this morning.”
He lifted a small, brown envelope from the desk.
No one had to ask what was inside.
Sam swallowed.
How much had he seen?
Who else knew?
Her father wasn’t looking at her as a dad anymore. She was a problem. A complication for the Secretary of State. It wasn’t even a family matter. It was a bump in the road to…to…global welfare or something. There was no compassion in the way he looked at her. This man wasn’t her daddy. Wasn’t the man who played board games with her when Rashae was home. Wasn’t the man who’d introduced her to Doctor Who or marathoned the BBC Sherlock with her. He wasn’t the man who’d shed a tear the day she graduated college.
“What did they want?” Oliver asked.
“They want a lot of things. I’ve got a short list of people I think could be involved, and none of them are going to get their way.” Timothy leaned against the desk, arms crossed over his chest. He was not to be moved or swayed, not even by this. And why should he?
Sam swallowed.
In a matter of time, pictures of her in a private, vulnerable moment from college would be out there for public consumption. Her career in politics, heading a PR department, was over. No one would hire her with a record like this. Especially if she was also the Secretary’s daughter.
She had to shake herself out of this.
It was time to stop reacting as Sam. This whole thing had nothing to do with her, and she had to see it that way. Later, when she was at home, she could cry and rage against the injustice of it all, but right now, she had to follow her dad’s lead and be a professional.
They weren’t backed into a corner yet.
When you can’t run, you crawl.
When you can’t do that, you find someone to carry you.
Sam wasn’t in any shape to run, but she wasn’t done crawling yet.
“Let me see the pictures.” She side-stepped Oliver, hand out.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her father stared her in the eyes, but did he really see her?
“I need to know what we’re dealing with.” She tamped down on all her emotions and engaged her brain. She’d think of a way out of this.
Timothy pressed his lips together then handed the envelope over.
Sam turned her back on her family, her cheeks afire. She’d never felt ashamed about what she’d done with Oliver, not even when things went bad. But now? She’d brought shame to not only her family, but the office her father had fought so hard to attain. And for what? Young and stupid thrills? Now it would cost her. Not Oliver. No one cared where he stuck his penis, so long as he did his job. But her? She’d never work in DC again, and her father wouldn’t ever look at her the same.
“Shit,” Oliver muttered.
Samantha stared at a moonlit picture of herself, head back, hands splayed against a brick wall. Oliver was on his knees.
These weren’t photographs from college.
These were from last night.
Hours ago.
Sam’s head buzzed.
She glanced up at Oliver, who in tu
rn stared at her.
Who? How? Why?
So many questions flitted through her brain.
These weren’t the young, irresponsible couplings of teenagers. They weren’t college indiscretions. She flipped through the other images. These were…adults. Consenting adults, caught in a moment of passion.
Her brain began to whirl, sparking ideas, picking up speed. Thoughts firing into the darkness.
She could spin this.
Sam turned, her gaze bouncing from her father to her mother and off Lily before she could make eye contact.
“We control the narrative,” she said.
“What?” Oliver blinked, that dazed expression stuck on his face. His playbook was garbage and he had to start over. It took him time to arrange the pieces, see a pattern, make a plan. Well, she had something to go off of.
“How do you think you’re going to do that? And what were you thinking?” Lily glared at Sam.
“When the Duchess of Cambridge was photographed on vacation, topless, the royal family released statements about the violation of privacy. The photographers were villainized because it was a breach of privacy—even though she was perfectly visible from a …road or something. I can find out the particulars.” Sam was pacing now, all cylinders a go.
“You were in a park. That’s hardly private.” Lily’s voice dripped with scorn.
“That’s true, but…” Sam stopped and glanced at Oliver. It was all in how they staged the indiscretion. “If we frame it in such a way that the location is overshadowed…”
“How are you going to do that?”
Sam wanted to apologize to Oliver for what she was about to say, but she couldn’t. She was on a roll. She’d do what she had to, for her father, to salvage this. If she played her cards right, the only people the media would focus on would be her and Oliver. She’d take the brunt of it because she was a woman, but what did she have left to lose? Not a lot.
“Oliver had just proposed. People love a good engagement story. We’ll have the sympathetic viewers on our side. They will minimize the negative impact. We make a statement that…that post-engagement, we…” Sam swallowed. “We were caught in a moment of unwise passion and hope the media will respect our privacy.”
It was ballsy and bold, but what was better than a whirlwind romance story? It wasn’t a sex scandal if they were a couple. A happily married couple.
The Jock and the Geek (Gone Geek Book 3) Page 7
