Page 108 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Hunter

"Are you sure she’s okay?" I barked down the phone.

"Are you questioning my professional judgment?" Weston growls back.

I drag my fingers through my hair, then squeeze the bridge of my nose. "No, of course not. I’m sorry I woke you up so late."

There’s a pause. "It comes with the territory," Weston finally says. "I can assure you that there’s nothing wrong with Zara’s health. As for the rest, it’s up to her when she chooses to confide in you." He cuts the call.

I stare at my screen, then place my phone down on the table.

So, she’s all right. There’s nothing wrong with her.

Yet, she definitely seemed to pale when she rose to her feet too quickly earlier at our impromptu picnic.

And then, she got upset when I mentioned Olly.

Which was a tactical mistake. But she had to have known I’d have found out about her youngest sibling’s death due to an accident when he was three years old.

She was only nineteen when he died, and she left home shortly after.

I didn’t mean to bring it up, but I wanted to reassure her that whatever’s in her background that might be stopping her from considering a future with me, it doesn’t matter.

I didn’t expect her to get so upset when I mentioned Olly.

Which, I now realize, is understandable.

Losing a sibling, especially one that young, would have been devastating for her.

And I brought it up without any consideration for her feelings.

After that faux pas on my part, we packed up the remnants of our picnic dinner.

I dropped her off at home, made sure she locked her door behind her, and returned to my office, knowing there’d be no sleep for me tonight.

I lean back in my chair and stare at my blank computer screen.

Something doesn’t compute. Why is she so resistant to a relationship with me?

Sure, she’s my PR manager and part of my campaign team, but I want to be open about our relationship.

Yes, it would bring a whole new level of scrutiny of us.

It would mean changing the scope of her role from being only responsible for PR to weighing in on the bigger decisions, by my side.

A warmth fills my chest at the thought. She would be perfect.

She was made for that role. No, fact is, she was made for bigger things than being campaign manager.

By my side, she could impact larger decisions.

She could carve out a role for herself, one that complements my political career and which, no doubt, would be much more fulfilling than being a fixer. So, what’s stopping her?

I squeeze the bridge of my nose, when my phone buzzes. At the same time, my computer screen springs to life with the ding of an email, then another, and another. My phone buzzes again, then rings. I pick it up, spot Zara’s name and answer it at once.

"Everything okay?"

"They found us out, Hunter." Her face fills the screen. "We’re all over social media," she cries.

"What?"

"Yes. There’s a picture of us—"

"What picture?"

"I’ll send you a link." She looks down into the screen, then my phone vibrates. I click through the link she sends me to the news in a tabloid. There’s a picture of her and me, shot through a window.

It’s grainy, but clear enough. There’s no mistaking the two faces in profile.

Zara is reaching up to wipe something from the corner of my mouth.

We’re both laughing and looking at each other in a way that leaves no room for doubt.

It’s a picture of two people who have feelings for each other.

"It’s from the breakfast at the diner," I murmur.

She nods grimly. "What are we going to do?"

I rise to my feet. "I’m coming to you."

"No—" she cries out. "I mean, there are already paparazzi pulling up outside my door."

"All the more reason that I be there."

"But—"

"No buts. You stay where you are and—"

"No, you listen to me. I’m the PR professional here—"

"And you’re my—"

"My—?" She narrows her gaze. There’s something like a dare in her voice.

"You’re my everything, Zara. Whatever we have to do, we’ll face it together."

Her face crumples. A tear slides down her cheek.

My heart stutters. "No, don’t cry, baby. I promise, we’ll come out of this."

She sniffs. "I know. I’m the PR professional here, remember?"

"It’s okay to lean on me, baby."

She brushes away her tears. "Are you coming here, or are you going to waste time talking to me on the phone?"

I chuckle. "I’m on my way."

"Are you and Zara Chopra together, Minister?"

"What impact will this have on your candidacy?"

"Are you and Ms. Chopra getting married?"

"Minister, how long have you been seeing each other?"

The questions come thick and fast as I shoulder my way through the throngs of reporters.

Just as I reach the main door of the apartment building, it slides open.

Zara must have been tracking me from upstairs.

I take the steps two at a time, then walk down the corridor to her apartment.

Before I can press the doorbell, the door swings open.

"Hey." I peruse her features.

"Hey."

I follow her into the apartment; the door snicks shut behind me. She walks to the window and peers through the crack between the drapes. "There’s more of them there than there were a few minutes ago."

"How are you holding up?"

She turns to face me. "I expected something like this to happen, just not so quickly."

I take in her pale features. "You look peaked."

"I’m fine," she says and slashes her hand through the air. "We’re going to deny it, of course."

"Excuse me?"

She begins to pace. "We’ll deny that there’s anything going on between us."

"The picture suggests otherwise," I say gently.

"We could say we’re friends."

"You’re rubbing off a dab of something from the corner of my mouth. It’s an intimate picture."

"Fuck." She halts, then locks her elbows at her sides. "Of course, it’s an intimate picture. It looks like exactly what it is. The morning after a night spent fucking."

"Two nights, actually."

She turns on me. "Are you even taking this seriously?"

"I’m here, aren’t I?"

She crosses the floor, then comes to a stop in front of me. "You don’t seem put out by what’s happened."

"Should I be?"

"Don’t!" She throws up her hand. "Don’t give me that. You know this means it ties you and me together. It means, it casts doubts on my talent, on my career, on everything I’ve worked to achieve."

"All that picture shows is that we are in a relationship. It doesn't take away from your talent because you’ve already built an outstanding profile as a fixer. You did this before we met. Of course, I’d want to hire you because of your abilities.

You’re not a newbie. This image doesn’t take away from your abilities as a PR consultant at all. ”

She looks into my face. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it?

You wanted it to come out that we’re together, so you could push me into making an announcement with you.

So you could announce to the world that we’re getting married.

I can just see the headlines." She mimes a rectangle with her fingers.

"The love story of the decade." She lowers her hands to her sides.

"It’s the kind of story that could propel you all the way to Downing Street. "

"You have to admit, it’s going to thaw the most cynical of hearts. Nothing like a marriage to give you a poll bounce," I admit.

"In fact," —she narrows her gaze— "I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re the one who leaked the picture."

I try to wipe all expression from my face, but I must be too slow. Her jaw drops. "Oh, my god, it was you. You slipped that picture to the media. And you did it to force my hand."

I shuffle my feet. I could deny it, of course, but it’s not my style to hide behind lies.

Besides, I don’t regret doing it. If this is the only way to get her to marry me, then so be it.

Once we’re together, I can smooth over everything else.

I can take care of her, ensure that she doesn’t get too stressed, ensure that she has the kind of career she deserves—one beyond merely being the fixer to becoming the person who makes the news, who has a positive impact on society and the community.

She has so much potential, this woman. All she needs is someone to help unlock it for her… And that’s what I’m going to do, I’m—

"No." She takes a step back.

"Eh?"

"I’m not doing it. I’m not going to marry you. I’m not going to make a joint announcement with you. I will not be manipulated into a place where you make me feel like I have no options. I always have a choice, and I choose not to fall in line with your plan."