Page 44 of Missile Strike

Isabella stiffened. “The gala isn’t funded by AegisShield, and no corporate resources are involved. I’m helping my father by using my professional expertise organizing defense expos. We aren’t violating any campaign laws.”

“Of course.” Olivia’s smile came easily. Her gaze didn’t. It measured. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

She asked several more questions about event logistics and the economic impact the gala would have on the Charlotte economy. Isabella deftly handled each question.

This wasn’t so bad. Danny had been worried for nothing.

“One last question.” The reporter’s gaze sharpened. “Several years ago, Iran openly made threats against your father after the US attack that killed the senior commander of the IRGC. Given your involvement in his re-election campaign, do you ever feel like your personal safety is…compromised?”

A fist clamped around Isabella’s lungs. “Excuse me?”

“Let me rephrase. You seem to live a low-key life here in Charlotte. Do you ever feel exposed, with how visible your father’s career has been?”

Beneath the desk, Isabella’s hand crept to the pleated white skirt draping her thighs. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest. Was it her imagination, or did Olivia’s stare circle like a hawk tracking prey?

Don’t be paranoid.

She composed her expression. “I’ve learned how to carve out a life that’s completely mine. I have a successful career and a life here in Charlotte that will continue to flourish after this gala is over, regardless of what my father does.”

There. Do what you want with that.

“Thank you. That’s all I need.” Olivia hit stop and returned the voice recorder to her handbag. “For now.”

“Of course.” Isabella forced out a nonchalant reply through stiff lips. Maybe Danny had been right. Not that she’d admit it. Olivia was fishing for something. What? She didn’t know.

She stood. “I’ll escort you out.”

After Olivia left, Isabella heaved a sigh of relief and returned to her office long enough to gather her purse and briefcase. Twenty minutes to five—close enough to call it a day.

The interview had gone well, despite the questions that veered too close to Isabella’s personal life. But she’d handled it. Her dad’s campaign manager would be happy for the publicity.

The gala was a little over a week away. Tomorrow, she and Danny would do another walkthrough at The Waverly to work out final details.

Her pulse quickened at the thought of spending more time with him.

She frowned.

It was time she sorted out her feelings for Danny in order to move past them. Letting herself fall for him again would be a colossally stupid move, especially when he’d told her he’d be gone as soon as he and his agency felt she was no longer in danger.

Asking whether he’d keep in touch afterward would only make her look desperate.

Worse, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know the answer.

Boundaries.

That’s what she needed. Nothing had happened since Trip got out.

She was safe, and, more importantly, she had everything under control. If she wanted some excitement in her life, she’d call Talia and invite her to go with her to trivia night at Rudy’s Tavern.

Except Talia texted her last night that a work trip had come up and she was flying out of town this morning.

Oh well. A glass of wine and a good book at home with Trip it was.

She wouldn’t ask Danny what his plans were.

Outside, a warm breeze ruffled her hair and kept the humidity from clinging to her skin. To her left, a plane took off from nearby Charlotte-Douglas International, the silver underbelly catching the light, engines whining at full thrust as it climbed into the sky.

Winding her way through the rows of cars in the surface lot, she spotted her Honda and dug in her purse for the fob. The lot was still full. Only one other person lingered in the distance, leaving early like her.