Giselle’s face pulled into a mask of disgust, and it made Jack’s normally affable nature dissipate in an instant. He didn’t have time to ask why she looked as though she’d just swallowed some funky spunk, because his boss seemed to appear out of nowhere.
“Jack!” Irv’s voice was like a crack of thunder. “You’re supposed to be working on my story.”
Irv calling it his story further pissed him off. It was Jack’s story, and one he no longer wanted to tell. “I’m entitled to a Saturday night.” And he certainly hadn’t expected to see his boss at an engagement party. “What are you doing here?”
“The senator wanted press here.”
“And you didn’t send one of your political reporters?”
“Not when I can drink top-shelf for free.” Irv ordered a scotch, neat. “But it could be you drinking Macallan 18 on your beat if you play your cards right.”
Giselle had somehow managed to screw her face on right and extended her hand to Irv. “Giselle James-Stevens.”
Irv looked down at her hand as though it was a dirty rag before reluctantly taking it. As irritated as he was, Jack chuckled. He was sure Giselle didn’t usually get such an icy reception from a heterosexual man.
“This the girl?”
Jack shook his head, hoping Irv would catch his silent plea to shut his freaking trap. But no luck.
“What girl?” Giselle sounded confused, which was probably another new experience for her. The last thing Jack wanted was for Hannah to find out that he’d been using her for a story from someone she referred to as “the Wicked Witch of the North Side.”
“Jack’s been doing a story—dating a girl but doing all the stupid shit that young guys do these days to make her break up with him.” Irv took a drink and continued with a rueful laugh. “But she hasn’t dumped him yet. No self-respect, broads these days.”
Giselle’s eyes got wide, and Jack legitimately wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole. Then an evil smile crossed her face and she turned to them. “It was so nice to meet you, Irv. And Jack, it’s always lovely to see such an old friend. But I really must go find Hannah and congratulate her on such a fabulous party.”
Jack knew things would be over with Hannah if he didn’t get to her first and find a way to explain things. Things like the fact that he’d never looked out for his career first when the choice was between a career and a woman. Things like he shouldn’t have done that this time. And things like the fact that he was most definitely in love with her and would do just about anything not to lose her.
He wasn’t sure where Hannah was at that moment, but he could move faster than Giselle in her heels and tight dress. Plus, she’d probably get distracted talking to some business douche who worked with her husband. He could find Hannah and tell her everything before Giselle got to her.
But just as he was about to excuse himself, Irv blocked his path of egress. “So, we’ve got to talk about this Senator Chapin story—”
“Irv, I—uh—” Jack hesitated. He wanted to tell Irv that that ship had sailed, but it would have to wait. He couldn’t lose Hannah now that he’d figured out a way to keep her.
“You want the story, don’t you?” He didn’t have time to explain that he already had the story. It was Irv who’d lost it by not realizing that he was the man for the job in the first place.
“Of course I do.” The ballroom was packed to the gills. He wasn’t sure he would make it to Hannah in time.
“I was able to get one of their donors to talk on background . . .”
“And?” This was a waste of time.
“You’ll never believe what he used campaign funds for—” Irv stopped when the music stopped and the senator, his wife, his daughter, and his daughter’s fiancé got up on the stage. Everyone went quiet, and they couldn’t exactly discuss the senator’s downfall without being heard.
And then all hell broke loose. As soon as Senator Chapin opened his mouth, one of the reporters down by the stage shouted, “Is it true that you used campaign contributions to fund this event?”
Jack’s attention swung away from Irv to the politician with his mouth opening and closing like a guppy. Another reporter—one who hadn’t taken his eye off the ball because of a girl—used that opening. “And have you seen the story that the Washington Post just published about your interference with city contracts?”
After that, cacophony took over, and he pulled out his phone to see that the story had dropped early, about half an hour ago.
SENATOR CHAPIN INDICTED ON CAMPAIGN FINANCE CHARGES
By Jack Nolan
Senator Alexander Chapin was charged with nine felony counts today in the federal district court for the Northern District of Illinois. Among the charges were bank fraud, money laundering, and campaign finance violations. The charging document states that Senator Chapin allegedly paid for his daughter Madison’s lavish engagement party at the Drake Hotel with campaign funds. The party is scheduled for this evening. Ms. Chapin and her fiancé met through his father, also implicated in the money-laundering scheme.
Senator Chapin has yet to resign from the Senate, but he has been removed from all of his committee assignments . . .
Before he had time to tell Hannah the truth about why he’d asked her out. Before he had a chance to tell her that he wasn’t going to write the “How to Lose a Girl” story because he was hopelessly in love with her and didn’t want to lose her.
Irv was gone, and he was standing alone at the bar. The lights had come up, and the partygoers seemed mostly shell-shocked.
That’s when he spotted Hannah, standing next to the stage, ushering the betrotheds offstage. He started to move toward her but froze when he saw the flash of Giselle’s red dress closing in on her.
Goddammit.
* * *
—
FUCK.
The last thing Hannah needed was Giselle mayonnaise on top of her shit sandwich of a night. Although she’d averted the minor crisis of a public breakup, it looked like the party was over for Senator Chapin.
She doubted that Annalise’s gratitude over her saving the engagement party would make up for her extreme disappointment that she wouldn’t be able to cash in on this couple making it to the altar. The closest thing to a royal wedding in the States would have meant a fat check and probably a trip to the Amalfi coast for her boss. Not to mention the bragging rights. And, despite the fact that none of this was her fault, she knew that for a good, long while, Annalise would see a missed Italian vacation every time she looked at her. Hopefully, she’d be more worried about her friend the senator going to jail. But Annalise could be pissed about more than one thing at a time, and she’d probably want to spread her anger around.