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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."
Zara
