Secret Revenge

by T N Lowe

  “Good morning, this is Jerry at security; Mr. Love’s appointment is here.”

  “Thank you, I’ll meet them at the elevator,” I say hanging up the phone. Smoothing out my gray pencil skirt I walk down the hall to meet Mr. Calvo and his staff. When the door slides open, I’m met with a handsome Hispanic man in a black Armani suit. “Good morning Mr. Calvo. I’m Lena Miller, Mr. Love’s assistant,” I say offering my hand.

  Bringing my hand to his mouth, he places a gentle kiss on my knuckles. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss. Miller. What happened to Lorrie?” Mr. Calva asks in a heavy Spanish accent.

  “She had a family emergency and will be out of the office for a couple of weeks. If you will follow me, Mr. Love is ready for you.”

  “I’m sorry to hear about Lorrie’s miss fortune. But I’m happy you will be joining us,” Mr. Calvo says following me to Patrick’s office.

  Patrick is waiting for us when we come into the room, striding from his desk Patrick greets Mr. Calva, “Alonso, It’s good to see you again.”

  “You too Patrick,” Alonso says shaking Patrick’s hand. “Though I don’t know how you get much work done with this beauty around.”

  “Yes, Lena does make it difficult to concentrate, but she makes it up to me when we get home.”

  “Oh, I did not realize she was also your lover. I apologize for any rudeness,” Alonso says.

  “No apologies needed. Shall we begin?” Patrick says gesturing to the conference table.

  That is how the rest of my day goes. I help Patrick set up for meetings, escort people to and from the office, take notes, and schedule appointments. “Thank you for your help today. You did a great job,” Patrick says as Bryan drives home.

  “It was my pleasure, and I liked learning more about what you do. Are you going to be okay tomorrow while I’m helping Samuel?”

  “Yes. Tomorrow all I have is the finance meeting and I can ask Dylan’s assistant to take notes.”

  “If you’re sure.”

  “I’m sure,” Patrick says kissing me to end the conversation.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The next morning Bryan drives me to Virginia where Samuel’s campaign headquarters are located. I’m meeting with Samuel and his campaign manager, the balding man from the party, Mr. Carrick O’Reilly. Together we will find something for me to do. Bryan stops at a non-descript brick building in Alexandra with a campaign flyer in the window. Helping me from the car and escorting me into the building Bryan leaves me with Samuel. “I’m glad you made it,” Samuel says hugging me quickly.

  “Me too.”

  “Let’s meet with Carrick and see what he has to say,” Samuel says walking to an office at the back of the building. The office feels small with a large metal desk taking up most of the floor space; two overstuffed chairs are pinned between the wall and the desk. I’m not sure how someone as large as Samuel can squeeze through to sit in a chair. The top of Carrick’s desk looks like a paper factory expounded on it, there are paperwork, posters, and signs covering every inch of space. How does this man work in here, there is no organization to this mess. “Carrick, this is Lena,” Samuel says as we enter the office.

  “Lena it’s nice to meet you,” Carrick says shaking my hand. Turning to Samuel, he says, “There is no way she is not your daughter. She is a prettier image of you.”

  “That’s what I thought,” Samuel replies.

  “Please take a seat,” Carrick says gesturing to the overstuffed brown leather chairs across from his desk. “Samuel says you want to help with his campaign. Why don’t you tell me about your background?” Carrick asks perching on the corner of the desk.

  “I have a degree in hospitality management. I’ve worked at the Resort Inn in Bar Harbor, Maine for eight years in various departments.”

  “That’s perfect. I think you would do best calling registered voters and political leaders for their support.”

  “That sounds like something I can do. Anything else?”

  “Let’s start there and add more as you feel more comfortable,” Samuel says.

  “Okay,” I reply.

  “Let me introduce you to Carrie, she’s our best and brightest. Carrie will teach you the script and how to talk to upset people,” Carrick explains.

  “Wait,” Samuel cuts in. “I want to go over the strategy for introducing Lena as my daughter.”

  “Okay,” Carrick says rolling his eyes. I have a feeling they have gone back and forth on this issue several times. “Lena we will start with the dinner party on Saturday. It is only for close friends and executive campaign staff, no press will be allowed in. Our goal is to ease you into this but, leaks may happen. Then Monday we are hosting a press conference to announce you. Samuel will make a short statement with you at his side; we will not be taking questions.”

  “Okay, I guess I can do that,” I say meekly. I’m in so over my head I have no idea what I’m in for. “Can Patrick come?” I ask knowing he will help keep me calm and grounded.

  “Anything that will make you more comfortable with the situation,” Samuel answers. “I know this is not like anything you’ve had to deal with before. Carrick and I have been back and forth about how to do this causing as little disruption as possible.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that.”

  “It’s the aftermath I’m worried about,” Carrick breaks in. “The press will be on your every move; they will dig through your past and make your life a living hell.”

  “So starting tomorrow,” Samuel takes over, shooting daggers at Carrick. “If you are not with Patrick or me, you will have a bodyguard with you. He’ll be here Thursday to meet you.”

  “It doesn’t sound like I have much of a choice in the matter. Does Patrick know about this?”

  “Yes, we talked about it when he walked me to my car Friday night.”

  I nod, but I plan on talking to Patrick about this tonight. I don’t like him making choices for me when I’m not involved in the decision-making process. I know he is doing it out of love, but I would have still liked to have been consulted.

  With nothing more to say, Carrick escorts me to Carrie to learn the tricks of the trade. Carrie is a sweet older woman, in her early fifties, with blond hair that is turning white is a few spots. She goes over the scripts with me explaining we only want to inform people about Samuel’s campaign and ask them to visit the campaign website to learn his position on the issues.

  The political support calls are easier Carrie tells me. “We are calling local community leaders, city council members, and mayors in the area and asking them to show their support for Samuel. And seeing as most of them already know and like him, it’s easy to get them to say yes,” Carrie says with a giggle. With that Carrie has me make a couple of political calls; overall it was a good first day.

  At three-thirty Bryan returns to pick me up and take me home. I chatter away telling him about my day while he navigates us through the traffic. When Patrick arrives home a little after five, he finds me in the kitchen cooking dinner. Wrapping his arms around my waist from behind and kissing my neck he asks, “How was helping Samuel at the campaign office?”

  “It was good, I enjoyed it and had fun. But Samuel informed me that starting Thursday I’ll have a bodyguard.”

  “Yeah about that, Samuel and I talked about it when I walked him to his car. He asked me not to say anything; he wanted to be the one to tell you.”

  “Okay,” is all I say. I’m not mad with Patrick for not saying anything, but I am mad about how it was presented to me, telling me it’s going to happen rather than asking me.

  “Next time Samuel asks me to keep something from you I’ll tell him no.”

  “It’s not that, he told me what would happen rather than asking me.”

  “I’m sorry to say, you don’t have an option here. Once everyone learns you are Samuel’s daughter, the media will go crazy. The tabloids are going to want pictures of everything you do, and they don’t care who they hurt to get them.”


  “But-“

  “No buts, we are not negotiating on your safety end of story.”

  I hate it when he goes all alpha male on me. It’s sweet he wants to keep me safe, but I can take care of myself. “Fine,” I huff taking plates from the cupboard and forks from the drawers and hand them to him.

  Patrick kisses me before leaving to set the table. I mix the chicken stir-fry and rice together in a bowl before joining Patrick at the table. “How was your finance meeting?”

  “Long and boring, Dylan insisted on droning on forever.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “It would have been better if you were there. At least then I could have stared at your beautiful face.”

  “Stop trying to butter me up,” I laugh.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Wednesday I go to work with Patrick which is a repeat of Monday. I prep the conference table for the meeting and escort people to and from the elevator. When lunchtime rolls around Dylan swaggers into the office. “Hi Lena, how’s this one treating you?” Dylan asks pointing at Patrick.

  “He’s treating me like his princess, like always. How’s your day going?”

  “Good, the world of finance is a busy place.”

  “Hopefully that means you’re staying out of trouble.”

  “Not even a little. How is your friend Willow doing?”

  Patrick rolls his eyes at Willow’s name. While he had other plans for us last night, I was on the phone with Willow, telling her about meeting my father. She freaked and wanted to know everything about him, but there was something in her tone that put me on edge. I’m not sure if she is jealous of my new found fortune or if there is something else going on she didn’t want to talk about. “She’s good. She asked me to tell you hi.”

  “Tell her hi back for me. Anyway are you two ready for lunch,” Dylan asks looking at Patrick.

  “Who said you were invited to lunch?” Patrick growls at Dylan.

  “Oh, come on, I want to spend time with Lena too. You’ve been keeping her locked up in your tower,” Dylan shoots back at his brother.

  “She is my girlfriend.”

  “Well, she’s my friend too. You have to share her.”

  “I’m starving can you two bicker on the way to the restaurant?” Halfway to the restaurant Patrick and Dylan stop bickering and talk about an upcoming purchase. I tune them out when my phone rings, “Hello,” I answer seeing Samuel’s name on the screen.

  “Lena, have you been to the ballet?”

  “No, why?”

  “The Russian Ballet will be in town next Saturday, and I want to take you and Patrick.”

  Turning to Patrick, I say, “It’s Samuel he wants to take us to the ballet next Saturday, do we have any plans?”

  “No, we can go if you want,” He answers wrapping his arm around my shoulder.

  “We are free, and I would love to go.”

  “Good, I’ll make the arrangements. See you tomorrow,” Samuel says ending the call.

  When we reach the cafe, the host leads us to a table in the middle of the restaurant. As we sit, everyone in the restaurant is staring at us, “Why is everyone staring at us?” I whisper to Patrick.

  “I’m not sure,” he answers.

  “It could have something to do with that,” Dylan says pointing to the front page of the Washington Post sitting on an adjacent table. On the front page is a picture of Samuel hugging me at his campaign office yesterday. The headline reads, Walsh’s Love Child.

  “Oh my god. How did they find out?” I whisper-yell.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Patrick tells me. “We’ll eat our lunch then go back to the office, and I’ll call Samuel to find out what happened. Don’t worry I’ll take care of it.”

  “Thank you. I love you.”

  “I love you too.”

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  Thursday morning there are a large number of reporters camped out in front of the condo all waiting for me. I call Carrick to tell him about the situation, but he already knows, “Do not leave your condo, and tell Patrick to stay home today too. They’re at his office too; somehow they learned you two are living together.”

  “What are we going to do about this? I can’t spend the rest of my life hiding from the press.”

  Carrick is silent for a minute, and I hear Samuel talking in the background. There is a shuffling noise, “Lena it’s Samuel. The doctor called me this morning with the results. You are my daughter, but we already knew that. Carrick is calling a press conference as we speak. I’m going to somewhat explain the situation and ask for privacy. More than likely they won’t give it to us, but we can ask.”

  “Okay. Then what?”

  “A man named Billy will be there in a couple of hours, he is your new bodyguard. You are not to go anywhere without him.”

  “With the circus downstairs, that won’t be a problem. Thanks, Samuel.”

  I hear Samuel sigh on the other end of the line, “I’m sorry about this. I never wanted the world to find out you were mine this way.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’ll let you get back to work. Talk to you later.”

  “Bye,” Samuel replies ending the call.

  Tossing my phone onto the couch, I turn to search for Patrick, but he’s behind me holding two cups of coffee. It’s not till I take the first sip that I notice he’s in low hanging sweats, “You’re not going to try to go into the office?”

  “No, I had the office closed. Those who can work from home can, everyone else has an extra day off.”

  “That was generous of you.”

  “Yes and no. There are several media networks camped out in front of the building. I don’t want anyone to get hurt on their way in, and I didn’t want to call in extra security for the day,” Samuel answers sipping his coffee and sitting on the couch.

  “So what you’re saying is you don’t want a lawsuit if someone gets hurt and you’re too cheap to pay for extra security,” I tease sitting next to him.

  “That’s about sums it up,” he says turning the TV on. A shot of our building fills the screen with a breaking news banner at the bottom of the screen. Zooming away from the building a female reporter with too much red lipstick on her teeth fills the screen. “Good Morning D.C. Yesterday we learned that not only is Lena Miller the child of presidential candidate Samuel Walsh she is also the live-in girlfriend of one of D.C.’s most eligible bachelors, Patrick Love. Patrick Love is most known for being the founder and CEO of Kindred Corp. We will bring you more on this story as we get updates,” the reporter says ending her segment.

  “How is this news? Aren’t there more important things going on in the world?” I ask Patrick, pissed the press knows so much about my private life.

  “I’m sure there is, but you’re the it story to take people’s minds off their own troubles. When the next celebrity breakup or rehab stint comes along, they’ll leave you alone,” Patrick says trying to comfort me and failing. Turning off the TV he asks, “Have you eaten breakfast?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Good, I’m going to cook you my world famous waffles,” he says moving to the kitchen.

  “World famous?” I ask teasing.

  “Yep, just wait. You’ll be a believer after you’ve tried them.”

  I follow Patrick into the kitchen perching on a bar stool to watch him at work. He has the batter mixed when the doorman calls from the lobby. I walk to the door to answer the intercom, “Hello.”

  “Good morning Miss. Miller. There is a man named Billy here for you.”

  “Sorry I forgot to call down to let you know he was coming. Please send him up. Thank you.”

  “No problem, Miss. Miller. Have a good day.”

  Releasing the button, I wander back to the kitchen, “Who was that?” Patrick asks ladling batter into the waffle maker.

  “The doorman, my new bodyguard is here.”

  “Good. You’ll like Billy, he’s Bryan’s cousin,” Patrick says as the doorbell rings.

&
nbsp; I open the door to find a man in his mid-thirties, dressed in a black suit, his blond hair shaved in a brush cut and his green eyes are bright. “Good morning Miss. Miller. I’m Billy.”

  “Hi Billy, come in. We are sitting down to breakfast. Please join us.”

  “I’m sorry ma’am I can’t do that,” Billy answers following me into the kitchen.

  “Oh but you have too. Patrick threw down the gauntlet with world-famous waffles. I need your help to judge if they are as good as he boasts.”

  “I guess I could have one,” Billy answers as Bryan enters the kitchen.

  “Hi, Bryan have a seat. You can help me judge Patrick’s cooking,” I say pulling plates down from the cupboard.

  “Sounds good to me, then I’ll show Billy around,” Bryan replies sitting on the barstool next to Billy.

  Setting the table I go back to starting coffee and pulling syrup, butter, sugar, and creamer to put on the table. As I come back for the coffee and orange juice Patrick is pulling the last waffle from the maker, “Let’s eat,” he says following me into the dining room.

  Swallowing the first bite and shoving the next bite into my mouth, “I have to admit this is pretty damn good. What do you guys think?”

  “These are amazing, sir,” Billy says.

  Patrick snorts, “Call me Patrick.”

  “I would say these are world famous,” Bryan speaks up.

  “Thank you, Bryan. That is the key to a happy bodyguard, keep them well feed.”

  “Oh is that it?” I ask

  “Yep,” Bryan answers for Patrick.

  As Patrick and I clean up breakfast Bryan shows Billy around the building. “What do you think of Billy?” Patrick asks me.

  “He seems nice and if Bryan says he’s good at his job, I believe him.”

  “Good,” Patrick says wrapping me in his arms and pinning my back to the kitchen counter. “I love you so much it scares me. If something happens to you, it would kill me.”

  “I feel the same way,” I tell him rising on my tiptoes and crushing my mouth to his. We kiss until we are both breathless. Patrick dips his head to kiss me again when Bryan and Billy return.