Chapter 26

Poppy

" I fucked Kent well, making him call me his hero, and then told him one time we ' d role-play nun and priest," Harper says as nonchalantly as a nun would confess her sins or lack thereof.

The coffee I just drank now acts as my own personal Neti pot; hot liquid spews out of my nose and burns like acid through my nostrils.

" Jesus, Harper. Warn a girl, would you?" I hiss as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, the remnants of coffee clinging like unwanted memories. " Coffee just erupted from places it shouldn ' t," I grumble, my wide eyes darting around, thankful we ' re having this conversation over the phone and within the fortress-like walls of my office.

In a hurry, I scramble for napkins to address the aftermath of my surprise, but alas, none are in sight. Desperation leads me to grab my adorable new notepad, tearing off sheets in an attempt to soak up the caffeinated spill. Great, now my once clean desk looks like a scatterbrain's wet dream.

I glance at the doors to Julian ' s office, then look at the clock; his meeting should last for twenty more minutes. I decided just to have lunch at my desk so I could multitask. I have to go over the contract Legal sent to us after the successful meeting with the Secretary of Defense in D.C. before I send it off to Julian for review and signature. Julian landed a deal with more zeros than I care to admit. I was blissfully unaware that the weapon trade could make Silicon Valley's darlings look like lemonade stand entrepreneurs or that it dwarfed the GDP of some countries, making them seem like they're running a garage sale in comparison. No wonder buying another private jet for the company was like grabbing another jug of milk at the grocery store. Sterling Defense is loaded.

As soon as I flipped open the contract and pressed my brand-new ‘ sign here ' sticky on the line, Harper called me. Since I was on my lunch break, I took the call.

" I ' m seriously concerned about the kinks of your sex life, Harper. Do I want to know what nun and priest entails because it sounds more like a horror flick than a porno?" I joke.

" No," Harper sighs, " I can ' t shake Kent, Poppy; I give him crazy, and he eats it up."

I grab the mess of notes now soaked with coffee, ball them up, and throw them in the trash. " So stop trying to shake him," I tell her, knowing deep down she doesn ' t want to. She wants Kent to end it so she can blame him and use it as her excuse for never having a relationship again.

I sigh and walk back to my chair. " Just be yourself," I suggest as I sit.

She snorts but then hesitates. " Actually, that might be the trick to getting him to tell me to ‘ fuck off,'" she mutters.

" How was New York?" She ' s changing the subject.

" Well," I begin, smiling as I look at the door to Julian ' s office. " We talked about rings."

" Rings? You saw a boxing match?"

" No, silly," I respond, happy she didn ' t make it sexual. " Engagement rings."

" Fuck. Me. No, actually, fuck you. You ' re not serious?"

" Are you mad?" I ask as I sink into my chair and cross my legs. I ' m not sure how she will react; she ' s been filling the shoes of my best friend/sister, brother, mom, and dad for years. Every person that has been taken from me she has tried to replace, and she has. That ' s why I ' m not sure how she ' s going to take this.

I could hide it from her, but I don ' t want to hide.

" No," she replies quickly. " I ' m thrilled, but—"

" But it ' s fast," I respond to her. Reaching out, I grab a pen and begin to hyper-click to calm myself.

" Yes. But, well, your relationship has never been conventional; maybe fast is the best thing for you," Harper says, sounding sincere and mature. Sometimes, that shocks me.

" Is this you showing your support for Julian and me?" I bite my lip. I desperately want her approval, but at the same time, I know I might not get it. Harper isn ' t the relationship type; she ' s the type that rides the roller coaster and gets off. A relationship is a never-ending ride, and it ' s a battle she ' s about to fight with Kent.

" Poppy, I ' ve seen you cry; I ' ve seen you break. I forgot what seeing your smile looked like, and Julian makes you smile."

My throat thickens with emotion; my fingers pause mid-feverish tap. " Thank you," I whisper, curling my hand around the edge of my desk, needing to feel something. I wish she were here so I could hug her.

She clears her throat, " Of course, I need to have a private conversation with Julian." Here we go... " Maybe I ' ll get him a kitchen knife set for his wedding gift?"

" Why?" I snort, laughing. I glance at the contract and see splashes of coffee on it. Great, I need to reprint it.

" Yes, I can see it now, a shiny new knife set with a pretty pink bow, attached with a note that says ‘ if you fuck up, then one of these knives will be used to cut your balls off,'" Harper snickers.

I shake my head, grinning, as I log onto my computer and begin to reprint the contract. We ramble for the next ten minutes, giggling and joking until she says, " Oh shit!"

" What?"

" The news. Turn it on."

" I ' m at the office; I don ' t have a TV." I place the call on speaker, a dangerous move because I never know what will come out of her mouth, and type in the news site. There ' s a red banner with breaking news flashing. It reads,

OLIVER SINCLAIR STEPS DOWN FROM THE PRESIDENTIAL RACE.

My brain malfunctions and it takes me longer than it should to reread it. " Are you seeing what I am?" Harper shouts in a high-pitched voice.

I swallow, but it won ' t go past my throat, leaving me with a mouthful of saliva. " Yeah," I nod. " Did you know?" I ask.

What the hell does this mean? Andrew ' s dad, who was the top contender for the winning of the presidency, is stepping down!

Does this mean Harper and Dan found enough evidence to lock him away?

" Let me call you back," Harper says, and before I can respond, the line goes dead. The screen of my phone goes black. She didn ' t know. I can tell from her reaction.

I reach up and touch my throat. What does that mean?

If Harper and Dan, the head of the CIA, don ' t know, then that means the Sinclairs are still too strong, right?

I look back at the website and click the live feed; the news reporter extends a microphone to an older woman. " What do you think of the news?" the reporter asks.

" You want to know what I think," the older woman replies, her jaw set in a firm line, " I think Oliver Sinclair would be the best thing to happen to our country. That man was going to win, but he made the ultimate sacrifice for his family, for his son who is grieving the loss of his fiancée." The woman says as tears fill her eyes.

I grasp my stomach. I think I ' m going to be sick as I witness the depths to which the Sinclairs have tricked the world. " I know he stepped down, but he will be back, and when he is, he will have my vote," the woman raises her hand, shaking her finger at the screen.

I stand and walk to the wall, facing it. " It doesn ' t matter," I whisper to myself as tears fall. It doesn ' t matter what evidence we find; Andrew and his father fool the world.

My knees shake, and I lower myself to the floor, reaching out as I flatten my palms on the carpet. I know Andrew was responsible for killing Kimberly and her family; I know he has killed in the past and continues to kill in the present, yet the world loves him. I know his father is the man who pulls all the strings, cutting some of those he deems lesser than, yet the world loves him.

A door opens, a foot takes a step, pauses, and then rushes forward. Hands grasp me.

"Poppy. Poppy, what's wrong?" Julian says, the worry in his voice making my tears fall faster.

" It doesn ' t matter what we do or what we find," I try to look at him, but my vision is too blurry, " Andrew and his father are always going to be seen as the heroes."

Julian grasps me tighter, then picks me up, cradling me in his arms as he carries me to his office and shuts the door. " His father stepped down, and everyone thinks it's to be with his son as he grieves," I snort. " No matter the evidence we find, fingers are going to point at us. They will make us the villains."

Julian cups my face with his free hand, " Poppy, I don't care what the world makes us. We know the truth. You can ' t win over everyone, Pumpkin, and I don ' t need to. All I care about is you."

"But you have your family business to worry about. What if it reflects poorly, and you start to lose contracts? What then?"

Julian situates me on his desk with the same care and precision a librarian employs when placing a rare, delicate manuscript back into its rightful place among the archives, ensuring not a single page is bent or harmed. " I need you to listen to me, Pumpkin, listen good. I need you to trust me and know that when this is all said and done, nothing is going to be left of them; they will have nothing. They messed with too many people, Poppy; it's not just you and I after them but a group much more deadly."

My breath hitches at the untold secrets Julian has been hiding. I part my lips, wanting to know, but no words come out. Sometimes, seeing all the light, knowing all the truth, is too blinding. I curl into his chest, needing some darkness to cover my eyes.

"Do you trust me to protect you, Pumpkin?" Julian asks me.

I pull back to look at him, but something over his shoulder catches my eye; it's a framed American flag on the wall. Julian was a soldier; he was used to running head first and fighting monsters. He's my soldier. I look at his shoulder, which took a bullet just a few months ago. Soldiers might be heroes, but even heroes can get hurt. I don't want him to hurt or suffer. I want to protect him; I want to be my own hero, but I have no idea how to.

I nod and cradle my face against his chest again. The steady beat of his heart helps to slow my tears.

He's always been honest with me from the very first moment we met in the hallway and then shared a filter-free conversation in his apartment. That's a fact I can settle into like a safety boat.