Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 123579 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 618(@200wpm)___ 494(@250wpm)___ 412(@300wpm)
“In that case,” Karen says, a frown puckering between her eyebrows, “Kyle’s team is already digging.”
“They can dig all they want. I’ve got nothing to hide.”
A small voice I’ve managed to suppress until now reminds me there is one thing left to hide, left to find, but I dismiss that. That I did manage to bury. That won’t come back to haunt me. I was too careful. Too discreet.
“Well, if there is, they’ll find it. Secrets, especially for someone as high profile as you, are like bodies on the bayou. When the rain comes, the corpses rise above ground.”
My belly clenches. That one secret is mine and mine alone. They can drag me through the mud, but that I’ll carry to my grave.
“I recommend a small press conference with a live statement,” Karen says. “That would have the most impact.”
Shit just got real.
“I don’t want a press conference.” I level a look at Karen that tells her not to push me on this. “That statement you want to release is fine, but I need you to coordinate any written communication with my team. I have to bring them all up to speed. My lawyer will be in touch with you.”
“And the press conference?” Karen persists. “You need to be ready to speak on this, Sofie, if you’re serious about taking Kyle down.”
“I am prepared, but maybe I could just record a statement from home or my office and release that. Then follow up later with an interview with someone I trust.”
“Whatever we do, let’s do it in the next day or so,” Karen says. “Following Shaunti’s allegations so closely with yours will raise a lot of questions, especially for those who know there must be some fire with this much smoke.”
Shaunti stands, too, extending her hand to me. I take it, and she pulls me in for a hug. I freeze, unsure of how to respond.
“Thank you so much for doing this.” She sniffs, squeezing me tighter before stepping back. “I wanted to take him down. If I hadn’t—”
“Hey, don’t judge yourself too harshly,” I say. “I can’t blame you. Your family comes first. If I had those ties, I’m sure I’d hesitate. Hell, I don’t have those ties and it took me fifteen years.”
We pass a smile, sympathy, back and forth to each other, uniquely connected by Kyle’s cruelty, but mostly by our survival.
The elevator down is crowded, so Trevor and I don’t talk about what just happened. In the press of bodies, he links our pinkie fingers, and it’s enough. Even that tiny contact with him calms the roiling in my soul, but I break it as soon as we enter the lobby. I put a block of space between us while walking out to meet Baker on the sidewalk. Trevor reaches for my hand, but I step out of reach. He lays a hand at my back, but I walk ahead, outside and toward the car waiting for us. His hand shackling my wrist pulls me up just short of the idling vehicle and my faithful driver.
“You don’t want me to touch you?” Trevor’s voice is low and even, but his eyes reveal that it bothers him. “Did talking about that night do that?”
The people rushing past don’t stop for us, but I still carefully extract my wrist from his hand.
“No, it’s not that.” I shake my head dismissively. “After fifteen years and lots of therapy, the night itself has very little power over me anymore. I’m more worried about the fallout from coming forward.”
“Like losing endorsements?” He frowns. “That kind of fallout?”
“No, fallout for you, Trevor.” I look away, not wanting to discuss this on the sidewalk. “You heard Karen. It’s gonna get really ugly. I don’t want that associated with you in any way.”
He opens his mouth, and I can already hear his rebuttal even though he hasn’t voiced it yet.
“Car’s here.” I walk toward Baker, who stands by the open back door. I give him my usual kiss on the cheek before gesturing toward Trevor. “Baker, meet Trevor Bishop.”
The two men size each other up for a few seconds before Trevor extends his hand.
“Nice to meet you, Baker,” he says. “How long have you been putting up with this li’l filly?”
The stiff lines of Baker’s face relent, cracking with a small smile.
“Since she was a little girl, Mr. Bishop,” Baker returns. “I’ve had that privilege for as long as she can probably remember.”
“Lucky man.” Trevor runs the backs of his fingers across my cheekbone.
An uncustomary heat spreads across my face at Trevor’s gentle touch.
“Thought I’d never see the day again!” Baker full out chuckles. “Miss B, you’re actually blushing.”
I press my hands to my cheeks, frowning and stepping into the backseat.
“Am not. It’s the cold. Your fault for keeping me waiting.”
I can’t help but grin as I settle into the back and wait for Trevor to climb in, since Baker’s never had me waiting a day in all the years he’s served my family.