Dilf（A Secret Baby Bad Boy Romance）(198)

I don't know Michele," I say, shaking my head. And that's the truth. I really don't know how in the hell this has been leaked.

"Well, you better figure it out, and fast. You're going to be racing against the clock on this one. We're going to need to come up with a new technique to manage this one. As two of your senior advisors, I have to say that this isn't casting you in a favorable light with the public." I watch as she places both hands on her hips defensively.

"Don't you think I know that?"

"Well, you seen so nonchalant," Michele shrugs. "You can't sit here and expect everything to be OK."

"Is that what you call this? If so, you've been fooled," I growl in irritation. "I'm anything but calm. I'm downright outraged."

"We need to avoid any further negative media coverage," Michele says.

Fine. I hate to do this. But I’m going to have to.

"Okay, listen, lock it down then,” I say to Amy. “No communication inside or out until this blows over. I have a dinner with Vivian and Liam…”

“I would cancel that now,” Michele says, her face incredulous. “Or you might as well quit.”

“Cancel it,” I say.

“Radio silence?” Michele asks.

I nod.

"We won't be taking any additional calls or emails until further notice," I say. "Make sure everyone is clear on that."

She nods her head in agreement and hurries off to share the news.

Again, I search every corner of my brain for answers, and the only name that keeps comes up is Vivian's. Could Vivian be behind this media leak? Could Liam?

Did one of them just stab me in the back?

We just spoke and everything seemed fine. I didn't detect anything out of the ordinary. If anything, it was one of the friendliest meetings we've ever had … outside of the limo.

If one of them is behind this…why?





83





Liam





“Another beer?” the bartender asks me and I nod my head, watching the television.

The people around me are fucking quiet. The bar around me is pretty quiet too. They’re watching the TV, glued to what they’re seeing.#p#分页标题#e#

Carter cancelled dinner yesterday. But I got it. What I don’t get is how this is blowing up.

And it’s blowing up badly. Every hour brings more and more shit to be thrown so it can hit the fucking fan.

“Preliminary reports obtained by the New York Daily Journal indicate now that a three way sex triangle has evolved between Mayor Liam Jeffries, Governor Carter Andrews, and Senator Vivian Hawthorne. Sources at the paper are tight lipped as to how this information was obtained…” the reporter on television continues.

Fucking media. Fucking reporters. We were so fucking close to a deal. We were so goddamn close to figuring a lot of this shit out.

Of course the people who know me in New Kingston don’t know what to say to me. They stay away, not sure who or what I am anymore. Actually, I’m not sure who or what I am anymore. Have I betrayed the people of this town? I’ve been fighting for them. I wasn’t looking to sell them out.

“However we can confirm from what we’re hearing that the three leaders were close to putting together a deal that was acceptable to the Governor. No word of the specifics of that deal has emerged right now…” the reporter goes on and I realize he’s just made it sound like I was ready to sell out this town all for some pussy.

Jesus fucking Christ. I need to get ahold of this train before it destroys everything I’ve worked to build. I take out my phone and look through my contacts. I see it right there. I need to call him. I need to call Carter.

I never thought I’d ever be in this situation, but fuck it. I’ll do anything for the people of this town. And right now, the only thing that there’s left for me to do is go to the one person I used to hate to see if I can’t make this right.

“Office of the Governor,” the voice on the other side of the line addresses me upon picking up my call. She sounds like an intern. Working for free. Maybe put it on her resume for after college. Hoping to get picked up by one of the political clubs around the state. Maybe run for office one day. Look to break the fucking glass ceiling.

“Let me talk to the Governor,” I say curtly, taking a sip of the beer that’s in front of me.

I wait for a minute as the girl on the other end of the line takes a breath. “I’m sorry, but the Governor isn’t taking any calls right now,” she answers me calmly.

He’s probably in a meeting. I can understand what that guy must be going through. I mean, it may sound like a fucking cliché, but after we had sex—and yeah, I didn’t fuck him or anything like that—but whatever we did together I’m classifying as sex—I did a lot of thinking. Sure, the guy grew up wealthy. But that doesn’t make him responsible for the problems that I had growing up. He’s not the cause of it. I can see that he’s trying to do what he thinks is right. So what if I don’t agree with him 100% percent of the time? We’re both fucking American and we love this country. And this state. We’re trying to do the right thing in our own way.