Page 112 of Power
Brice exits my office, and I head over to pour myself a scotch. The day has only started and already it feels long and exhausting. The door opens again, this time Liam enters my office. “You’re doing a press conference?”
“Within the next forty-eight hours.” I throw the scotch back and seriously consider pouring another.
“I’ll have Elizabeth and Gavin start on a speech.”
“I want to speak to them first.”
Liam clears his throat and nods. “I’ll have them come here.”
“Thank you, Liam.”
“May I speak frankly?”
My brows rise as I stare at Liam. “Do you really have to ask?”
“I think this is a good step forward, but let the speech writers do what they do best.”
I purse my lips together as my jaw flexes. “I have nothing to apologize for.” I pointedly look at him.
“I’ll relay that information to them.”
“I’m not sorry,” I repeat in clearer more concise wording. “I won’t say I’m sorry.”
“I’ll make that perfectly clear to Elizabeth and Gavin.”
“Thank you.”
He walks over to me and claps a hand to my shoulder. “I think you’re doing the right thing, Bennett. Has Brice found her?”
“They know the area where she is.” I intake a sharp breath. “I’m relieved she and Emily are both safe.”
“You know that for sure?”
“They’re in a small town and no one is talking, so yeah, I think they’re both being protected and are safe there. Which leaves me in a difficult position.”
“Why?”
“I want them safe, and I don’t want to draw the media or the paparazzi to them.” I shake my head as I walk over and sit at my desk. “I don’t know what to do.” I look up at Liam. “What would you do?”
“Pffft.” He steps back and holds his hands up in surrender. “No use in asking me about affairs of the heart. I don’t have one.”
“Cold-blooded bastard,” I tease.
“Don’t you know it.” He smirks and heads toward the door. “I’ll speak with Elizabeth and Gavin about the speech.” Liam quickly disappears back to his office, leaving me to do my work.
I slide my glasses on and stare at my open laptop. Jamie enters with a fresh cup of coffee, taking away the untouched one on my desk. “One of these days, sir, you’ll drink the first coffee and surprise us all,” he says in a lighter tone.
“Today my day started with a scotch, Jamie.”
“Whoa. Sometimes we need the golden liquid to help us through.”
“You drink?” I ask surprised.
“Me? No, sir. I’m not a fan of alcohol. Saw the nasty effects of when water is replaced by alcohol, and a person becomes dependent on it.” I look up at him and sit back in my seat. Sliding my glasses down my nose, I stare at Jamie. “I disclosed this when I came for my interview, sir,” his voice is shaky with panic.
“I’m not saying it wasn’t disclosed, but I personally didn’t know this.”
He looks at the full cup of cold coffee in his hands. “It’s not something I actively tell people. ‘Hey, my mother was a nasty drunk who used to beat us.’” Jamie deflects the seriousness by spinning it with sarcasm. I’ve never seen Jamie so vulnerable.
