Page 95 of The Morally Grey Billionaires Boxset

Hunter

"So, you’re launching your campaign bid?" Sinclair leans back in his chair.

"I am," I confirm.

"About fucking time." JJ Kane smacks the table in front of him.

"The question I have is, why did it take you so long to make up your mind?" Michael places his fingertips together. This is the first I’m seeing him since Karma’s delivery.

He’s spent the last few months at home with her and the new baby.

Given Karma’s delicate health and the baby being born prematurely, he was, understandably, very stressed about them, but both mother and child are doing well, which is why he agreed to meet the three of us for a meeting at my office.

"Politics is all about timing and" —I glance about their faces— "about who you have in your corner."

"And other than the three of us, I assume there’s one more person who’s support you need to put your best foot forward?" Sinclair drawls.

I lean back on my heels. "You could say that."

"And does this ace up your sleeve happen to be the shrewdest fixer this side of the pond?" Michael smirks.

"And does she happen to be a dark-haired spit-fire who’s known for defusing scandals related to well-known personalities?" JJ Kane’s grin widens.

"It’s no secret that Zara and I ah…have a connection, and it’s true that I’ve been waiting to ensure I had her on my team before I declared my candidacy."

"And is that wise?" Declan’s voice interrupts from the phone.

I turn to where the device is balanced against my glass of water on the table.

"It would have been unwise to not have included her. I need her insights to plan my roadmap to the foremost leadership position of this country."

"But does she know that?" Declan retorts.

I rub the back of my neck. "Not yet."

"And when were you planning to tell her?" He scowls.

"At the right time?"

"I suggest you not delay that, not if you truly want her working with you," JJ murmurs.

I raise my hands. "Point taken, chaps. Though, that’s not why I asked you here today.”

"Could there be anything more important than figuring out your personal life and how it’s going to impact your professional life?" Sinclair drums his fingers on the table.

"My personal life is my own. I take all of your advice and consider it, but ultimately, it’s my decision how I decide to take things forward."

"Yours and hers," JJ reminds me.

"The callousness of the man who’s lost his heart but is not yet aware of it." Sinclair scoffs.

"Hold on. I have feelings for her. That doesn’t mean I’ve lost my heart, thank you very much."

The three men look at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Wait, what did I miss?" I scowl.

The three continue laughing, and I turn to Declan. "Do you know what they’re laughing about?"

He rubs his hand across his face. "I’m not married, mate, and at the rate things are falling apart around me, I won’t be for a while."

I pause, then pick up the phone and peer into Declan’s features. His eyes are bloodshot, his hair mussed, and he’s sporting days’ old growth on his chin. "You all right, ol’ chap?"

"No, but I will be. Fame is a double-edged sword, isn’t it? You spend your career pursuing it. You think you want it. Then when you have it, it bites you in the arse."

"Anything you want to talk about?" JJ calls out.

I place the phone back in position on the table so the rest of the men can see the screen.

"Not that we’re the best source of advice, considering we’re scrambling to get our heads out of our arses after the birth of our kids.

" Sinclair yawns. "Sorry, the boy kept fussing last night, and it was my turn to feed him the bottle.

So, as I was saying—" He looks around the table with a puzzled expression. "What was I saying?"

"That you’re not the best source of advice." Declan chuckles. "Right now, you seem more tired than I feel."

"It’s losing sleep at night that’s wrecking me. You’d think raising a child would be a cakewalk. Everyone does it, after all, but after the fifth consecutive night of lost sleep, I swear, I’d give anything to find a way to put him to sleep so I can hit the sack by ten p.m."

"Ten p.m.?" I smirk. "Is this the same Sinclair Sterling who partied ‘til dawn with the rest of the Seven?"

"Most of whom are probably spending an evening at home cuddled on the sofa watching Netflix and ordering a curry with their wives." He points out.

"Yep, I’d do anything for a good curry." Michael nods slowly.

"Man, I’m all for a good curry. The spicier, the better." JJ smirks.

I look at the three of them. "I’m definitely missing something aren’t I?"

"Of course, not. You’ll know when it’s time for an exceptional curry. Nothing like getting your own recipe right for it, too." JJ’s grin widens.

"What are you guys talking—"

The door opens and Lord Alan walks in. "Gentlemen, Minister." He nods his head in the direction of the assembled men.

JJ, Michael and Sinclair exchange glances, then as one, rise to their feet. "We were on our way out." Sinclair yawns, then shakes his head as if to clear it. He looks like he’s about to keel over any moment.

JJ walks over and shakes Lord Alan’s hand. "Good seeing you here. I’ll leave the Minister in your capable hands."

He heads toward the door, when it opens again and Zara steps in. Her gaze arrows straight to mine, and her face pales. She opens her mouth, then shakes her head. She glances at Lord Alan, then at me, and understanding dawns on her features.

JJ dips his chin in Zara’s direction, then walks out. Sinclair and Michael, too, shake Lord Alan’s hand. They nod toward Zara before they follow JJ out.

"Good chat, Hunter, keep me posted how things develop." Declan signs off.

Lord Alan waddles over and lowers his bulk into one of the seats facing me. He waves his hand in Zara’s direction, "I do believe the two of you have met?"

Zara’s gaze narrows. "I believe we may have met on one or two occasions." She squares her shoulders and walks into the room.

"Ms. Chopra, a pleasure." I tilt my head.

She pauses next to the empty chair opposite me and next to Lord Alan. "Mr. Whittington." She jerks her chin.

"Please take a seat."

"I’m not sure I’ll be here long enough for that."

"Oh?" I cross my arms over my chest.

"I plan to be out of here as soon I have a word with Lord Alan." She turns to the older man. "I’m not sure I’m the right person for this project."

Lord Alan places his elbows on the arms of his seat, then locks his palms under his chin. "So, you’re going to let your ego get in the way of managing a campaign that’s going to put a breakthrough candidate in Downing Street?"

She swallows. "I’m not right for this role."

Lord Alan barks out a laugh. "I don’t mentor fools, nor losers. And you are neither of the two. You’re not the type to give up without a fight, Zara, so what’s making you do so now?"

"I’m not giving up," Zara splutters.

"Aren’t you?" Lord Alan lowers his arms to his sides.

"Of course, not. It’s just, I don’t want to work with him." She stabs her thumb in my direction.

I drag my thumb under my lower lip. "I’m afraid, I have to admit, the two of us are incompatible."

"Or maybe you haven’t dug deep enough to find common ground.

" Lord Alan glowers in my direction. "We need you in number ten, Whittington.

And you" —he jerks his chin in Zara’s direction— "we need your brains, madam, and your spin doctor skills, not to mention your acumen in getting the media to dance to your tune. "

Zara flushes. "You give me too much credit, Lord Alan."

"Oh, take the praise when it’s due."

She draws herself up to her full height. "You’re right. I’m damn good at what I do. There’s no one better placed than me to run the Minister’s PR campaign. Without me, he may as well give up any hope he has of closing in on the leadership position."

"Now, hold on a second—"

"No, you hold on a second." Lord Alan glowers at me, "This woman is all that’s standing between a good campaign and a brilliant campaign that’ll put the wind under your wings and sail you right into number ten."

I raise my hands. "I defer to your wiser counsel, sir." I allow my lips to quirk. "Of course, if Ms. Chopra doesn’t want this opportunity—"

"Ms. Chopra would relish this opportunity, but I have a few conditions."

"Oh, good, I can leave the two of you to sort out the details then?

" Lord Alan pushes up to standing, then glances between us with a thoughtful look on his face.

"Of course, I don’t have to warn the two of you that anything beyond the lines of what is proper could be damaging to not only the two of you, but also the party? "

I blink. Lord Alan is the chairperson of the party, and as such, it’s within his right to ensure that all of us toe the line.

Indeed, anything that could harm the Party’s image comes under his purview.

But to hint at the possibility of anything that isn’t within the margins of being 'proper' is surprising, to say the least.

I exchange glances with Zara, who has a similar confounded look on her face. I signal to her with my eyes that we need to agree and that we can sort out what he meant later. She nods subtly. "Of course, Sir Alan, nothing I say or do will hurt my client’s image."

"And you know me, Sir Alan, I’ll only ever do what is in the interests of the Party."

"Good." He raps on my table. "I’ll take my weary bones out of here and let you two thrash out the rest of your agreement."

He brushes past Zara, and the door snicks shut. For a few seconds, we look at each other. The silence stretches. Then she places her bag on the chair closest to her, reaches for a book on my table and hefts it in her hand. "So, you had no idea this was coming, did you?"

I glance at the book, then at her. "You mean about Lord Alan asking you to join as Communications Manager for my campaign? Of course, not."

"Liar." She raises her arm and pitches the book at me.