10. Charlotte

Charlotte

“Ma’am?” Fitz said, hovering at her shoulder. “It’s time. If you want a shower, you need to come now.”

“But there’s still an hour left,” Charlotte protested.

Fitz glared at her. “Shower, hair, makeup, and then we have to get there through rush hour traffic.”

Fine, he had a point. “Alright, read this, make sure there’s at least three backup copies just in case. Give me any final edits after the shower, and then it goes to the teleprompter people.”

She followed him to the doorway, where a slender woman awaited them. Before she left, Charlotte had one more thing to do. She turned back to the room they’d all spent the day in, eyeing the tired governors, their aides, and now the cleaning staff who had arrived to take away the dirty dishes and full bins. Dinner would be available soon for any who stayed, but their jobs, for now, were done.

“I’m proud of you all,” Charlotte told them. “An odd sentiment for someone who was a grunt this morning, but you need to know it. This is a crisis. This is the biggest crisis our people have faced since we first revealed our presence to humans. What happens now, tomorrow, and over the following weeks, will change and shape the way we relate to, and interact with humans. Today you’ve put your ego’s aside in the name of national security, you’ve put your minds where your hearts are, and you’ve dug in deep.”

There were several nods of acknowledgement around the room.

“Today, you showed us in spirit, why you are the right choice to represent our people in government, and I’m proud to be standing right here with you. Thank you, one and all, for the hard work you’ve put in today. It’s by no means the end, but it’s a solid foundation that is going to make the coming days easier on us all.”

By the time she had finished speaking, Charlotte could feel a shift in the room. The details had been sorted, the language had been argued to the nth degree, and every single one of them was on the same page. It had been an awe inspiring experience, and one she would never forget. This was how the government was supposed to work. Not the big wigs doing the grunt work, but all of them pulling together for the best outcome for their people.

Taking one last look at the organised chaos, the smiling faces, and the shoulders that had been slumped with fatigue, lifting with pride — she committed everything to memory. The coming weeks were going to be a hard slog, and it would be moments like this that carried her through them.

“Ma’am,” Fitz urged from behind her.

Right. It was time to put on her armour. Or at least the modern version of it.

Ten minutes later when she’d emerged from the shower wrapped in the terry-cloth robe that had been lying on her bed, Charlotte was surprised to find two women waiting for her.

“Hair and makeup,” the first one said, noting her surprise.

“Oh!” Charlotte replied, feeling a little stupid. “I was going to do my own, like normal.”

The woman shook her head. “Not for this level of exposure. President’s orders. We do this for Grace too, so you’re not being singled out.”

Actually, that was kind of what she was thinking, but not in the way the woman meant it. Charlotte thought she was being pampered, in a kind of apology that wasn’t an apology. Like, if she had to face the train wreck that was about to happen, then the least they could do was make sure she looked good in front of the camera.

There was no way it was a criticism of her appearance. Charlotte was well put together, she knew that. As Grace’s aide she’d hired her own professionals to teach her how to do her own hair just right, and to perfect her own makeup routine. While she wasn’t into sculpting, and over the top eye-lashes — hardly appropriate for the political arena, she thought — she could hold her own when it came to a flawless look.

Yet when the women finally stepped away, and Charlotte managed to look in the mirror for the first time, she was shocked at the difference a professional hand made. Her eyeliner was spot on for once, subtle yet making its own statement. Her hair curled softly around her face in loose waves that somehow made her look feminine without looking weak. She looked professional and able to kick some serious arse, which ironically made her feel much more confident about what was going to happen in just under an hour.

“Do you need help getting dressed?” the first lady asked. They had given her their names, but with everything else rattling through her head, Charlotte had forgotten them.

“No, I’ve got it from here,” Charlotte said, not unkindly. “Thank you both so much for this. You’ve taken my normal look and elevated it to a new level. I can see I’m going to have to watch some more tutorials on you-tube.”

The other woman laughed. “Or you could just book us, we’re employees of The Seat. We’re available to anyone who works here and has to make a public appearance.” She leaned in as if to tell a secret. “We even look after the president. I think he should grow a beard, but he’s not keen on it.”

Charlotte’s eyes widened. “No,” she said forcefully. “No beard. It would just add to the caricatures of him already with a full shaggy mane. No facial hair at all, not even a moustache. He needs to avoid being classed as an animal at all costs. We’re shifters, and we’re more civilised than that. When he retires from office, sure, go for broke, but not while he leads us.”

“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that. Okay, no beard. I’ll tell him what you said too, just so he’s clear it’s an optics thing, not what would look good on him, because I gotta say, that man with a beard? He would decimate the female population of shifters.”

“Pretty sure he does that for most of them already,” Charlotte said with a chuckle.

The women left and she hurried to put on her suit, a dark navy blue with a pencil skirt, and crisp white blouse. It wasn’t her preferred choice of clothing, but again, she needed to look as human as possible. Optics were everything, and she hated that this was where her attention was focused, while out there two families were imploding in grief.

There was a short rap on her bedroom door, and she hurried to do up the zip of her skirt before calling out to whoever it was to come in.

“You’re not ready?” Fitz exclaimed.

“Shoes and jacket and I’m good to go,” she reassured him.

Before Charlotte could stop him, Fitz kneeled at her feet with her shoes, almost knocking her over as he tried to fit the wrong shoe to her left foot.

“Other shoe, Fitz,” she told him, not wanting to embarrass him by making a fuss.

He cursed softly, switching shoes, and then tried again. She helped as much as she could, but it was clear he was having trouble aligning her foot with the shoe. Still, it saved her hopping around in this damn tight skirt.

“You hold the shoe still, I’ll move my foot.”

“Yeah, that’s a better idea.”

Quickly she was shod, and then he was standing there holding her jacket. She hadn’t even seen him move. This time he stood still as Charlotte manoeuvred herself into the garment, lifting her loose hair up and over the collar.

“How do I look?” she asked, glancing in the mirror to check her lines were all straight.

“Like you should have left five minutes ago,” Fitz grumbled, making her snort. “You’ll do just nicely, now follow the guard out there and he’ll get you to the car.”

Leaving her room, she was pleasantly surprised to see Zeke.

“I’ve got your bag, ma’am,” he told her, showing it hanging off his side. “We need to hustle, the president is already in the car and asking for you.”

Dammit, that was not the impression she wanted to make. “If this skirt wasn’t so confining, I’d get you to give me a piggyback and run me there.”

He grinned wickedly at her. “I could always throw you over my shoulder?”

Charlotte slapped his arm companionably as they started walking down the long hallway outside her room. “And make a crease in my blouse? No thank you. It’s all the press would focus on for days, rather than the important speech the president is about to give.”

“Your notes are in your bag, and there’s a copy on your tablet,” Fitz called out as they hurried away. “Have her back before midnight, Zeke, I’m not sure her glass slippers last that long.”

With that parting shot, Fitz closed the door on them, which was just as well, because Charlotte had no idea how to reply to that. She could only hope that wasn’t a theme for the afternoon.

When Zeke finally handed her into the car, tawny eyes regarded her angrily. “You need to learn to move faster,” Leonard growled.

“Yes, sir, I’m sorry. We spent too long going over the speech just one more time. The final copy is on your tablet, and it’s already been sent to the teleprompters.”

He waved that away with a distracted flick of his hand. “Other than being late just now, you did well today. Leadership suits you.”

Leadership? What she did was hardly leading. “I coordinated everyone’s efforts, but I’d hardly call that leading.”

“What else is leading but that? Utilising the resources at hand to the best of your ability, and then pulling the people together for the best outcome.”

It sounded reasonable when he put it like that, but still, she hadn’t felt like a leader. It wasn’t like she’d been telling everyone what to do — except she had, hadn’t she? She’d given them assigned tasks, followed up with their results, and sent them off in new directions when needed.

Laughter filled the cabin of the car, the president highly amused about something.

“What?” she asked.

“You had the entire cabinet eating out of the palm of your hand today, following your every whim, and you didn’t even realise you were doing it, did you? You had their complete attention, their utmost loyalty, and in some cases pure devotion — and you didn’t even notice.”

Devotion? Hardly. Who on earth could he be referring to? No, she couldn’t think about that now, there were too many other things clamouring for her attention.

“What happened with Ms Kelsing. Is she alright?”

A shrewd gaze held her pinned to her seat. He knew she was deliberately changing the subject, and for a moment she wasn’t sure he was going to allow it. Then he sighed, turning his attention back to the tablet in his hand.

“She was reassigned to Natasha’s office. There’s no large feline shifters there for her to be bothered by, so hopefully she can put her head down and find fulfilment there instead. It will also give her time to seek out some desensitisation treatment, because her reaction was rather excessive, especially given the short amount of time I spent with her.”

“Hmm,” Charlotte murmured. “I’m not sure that’s the best course of action, but you’re the boss.”

“What do you mean? It’s the same level of work, just in a different department. Plus I wasn’t the one to come up with it, Tony did, and he organised it all.”

Well, that explained a few things.

“Look, she might be getting paid the same, but there’s a certain prestige to working in The Seat. Working for Natasha is nothing to sniff at, but it’s not quite the same thing as being in the power centre for our people. Just be prepared for this to come back and bite you in the arse is all I’m saying.”

“But I didn’t do anything!” he protested.

“Did you sign off on it?”

“Well, yes, it was a transfer, and I had to because I’m the reason why she— Oh. Well yeah, fuck. That is going to come back and bite me.”

She wanted to laugh, but these things could blow up out of proportion if allowed to stagnate. “How about you make it a rotation thing? Eighteen months with Natasha, then move her between the different governors. It would be a huge opportunity for her to soak up how things are done for each category of shifters, and it would give her a considerable advantage over other interns if and when she decides to return to The Seat. With that kind of experience under her belt, she’d have her pick of jobs. Plus, the initial period with Natasha would allow her enough time to complete the desensitisation treatment.”

“That’s actually a good idea. Can you pass it along to Fitz? Get him to sort it out before we get back tonight, and I’ll sign off on it.”

That’s how she spent the rest of the trip to The Islington, emailing back and forth with Fitz, clarifying details with the president, and then finally going over the speech with him one more time.

“It’s a good speech, Charlotte,” Leonard said gently, when she begged him to read it one more time to check his inflections. “What about your talking points, do you have that all ready?”

She nodded, patting her bag. “I’ve got them on paper and on my tablet. Fitz even hyperlinked them for me, so if I need more detail, I can jump over to the relevant document and get what I need from there. He’s highlighted the most pertinent data I might need, and basically organised this all so that I should be able to answer any and all questions.”

“Good, then get your hustle on, because we’re here,” he told her.

Which was when she noticed the car had indeed stopped. They waited for security to open the door, knowing better than to do it themselves, and then the president exited first, which meant Charlotte got a fantastic look at his arse while he climbed out.

Her owl rose up inside her, urging her to leap forward and claim what was theirs. If she couldn’t bite him with her beak, then Charlotte should do it with her puny human teeth. Puny. Human. Teeth?

Now was not the right time, and by then, Leonard was reaching back into the vehicle to hand her out.

“Thank you, sir,” she said, cognizant of all the eyes watching, and the shifters in the crowd listening. “You are very kind.”

“Of course, Ms Bailey. I could hardly call myself a gentleman and leave you to exit the car unaided.”

Why not? He did it just fine. Still, now was not the time to discuss it. They had a speech to deliver, and questions to answer. They had a war to prevent, and a riot to de-escalate. Everything else would have to wait.

Apparently that included biting his arse, because her owl was most insistent.