Page 180 of Lady and the Hitman

Chris Reinhardt.

I answered with a shaking hand. “Chris, please?—”

“I’m sorry, Z,” he said gently, and somehow that was worse. He sounded disappointed. “The Journal’s legal team is doing a review. Until it’s finished, ‘State of Her Union’ is on indefinite hold.”

My mouth opened, then closed again. “Are you serious?”

“You’re being painted as compromised,” he said, regret thick in his voice. “Conflict of interest. Biased reporting. The usual vultures are circling.”

I clenched the phone tighter. “Because of a kiss?”

“Because of who you kissed.”

“I didn’t even … the article about Alpha Mail?—”

“It doesn’t matter, Zara. Perception is the only thing that matters right now. I’ll do what I can to hold the door open, but?—”

I ended the call. Threw the phone onto the other side of the bed. Covered my face with both hands and let out a ragged breath that was dangerously close to a sob.

I felt the bed shift behind me. Ronan’s hand slid gently to my back.

“What happened?” he asked, voice low and calm like always.

“I’m exposed.” I didn’t move. “A photo. From the rooftop. The night we joked about. Someone must’ve actually—Jesus, someone did see us.”

His silence said everything.

“They attached it to an article. Trevor wrote it. About Alpha Mail. About you. About me.”

I turned to him then, suddenly desperate to explain. “I didn’t know he was going to do this. I haven’t spoken to him in days. Even then, all we talked about was my dad’s recovery. I was trying to be decent. I didn’t think he’d go this far?—”

“I know,” he said simply.

I blinked.

“I know, Zara. This wasn’t your fault.”

That cracked something in me. A soft fissure down the middle of all my defenses. I dropped my head to his shoulder, pressing my face against his neck.

“I lost my classes,” I said, voice muffled. “College of Charleston doesn’t want me teaching this fall. Chris atThe Journalis saying my column is on hold. I’ve been out of touch since Dad’s heart attack. Hell, even before. Everything’s unraveling.”

His arms came around me, solid and grounding. “I’ll make it go away.”

“No.” I pulled back to look him in the eye. “No, you won’t.”

He arched a brow, deadly calm. “Zara?—”

“No,” I said again, louder now, fiercer. “I know what you mean when you say that. I know you have people. Tools. Methods. But this? This is mine. I’m not somedamsel in distress, and I don’t need you to burn down the world to protect me.”

A beat of silence. Then two.

He nodded once. “Understood.”

The gravity of that single word was staggering. I knew what it cost him—to stand down. To let me fight. But he did it, anyway. For me.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my temple, the heat of it lingering like a promise. “Just say the word if you change your mind.”