Chapter 158
Two days later, I was sitting in my bed playing cards with Theo when the door opened, and my nurse poked her head in. “Ms. Elena? There’s a Wendy Lowell here to see you.”
I smiled. “Sure. Send her in.”
Theo’s face went pale. Maybe I should head out or see if David can switch me for the rest of the day. He and Charles ought to be here to eat lunch with you soon.”
I laughed. “You’ve been single for a while now. If she’s still that desperate, maybe you could get lucky before she leaves.”
He scowled at me. “Nothing about being with her would be lucky.”
“What’s lucky?” Wendy asked, coming through the door in a wave of her peony scent. She paused and scanned Theo head to toe, letting out a low growl of approval. “I’ve missed you, Tasty-boy.”
Theo bolted from his seat. “I’ll give you ladies some privacy and go talk to the guard in the hall.” He rushed past her, and Wendy actually swiveled to watch his backside head out the door.
“You’ve still got a thing for my guard,” I pointed out.
“Is chocolate still delicious?”
I nodded.
“Well, he’s still tasty, too. But I’m here about another delicious dish of manliness.”
“Oh?” I tried to sort through her lustful wording to figure out what she really meant. Otherwise, I’d have to assume she was booking me a stripper or something.
“I wanted to be the one to do you—”
Oh, dear goddess, she wasn’t focusing her lack of satisfaction on me, was she?”
“…but Bruce Conroy said no. Damn him for being editor-in-chief and overriding me because I should have had the seniority to be the one to interview you first and exclusively. Instead, that nacho cheese-smelling perv in an expensive suit brought in someone else. He’ll be interviewing you in a collaborative article between the palace press and Bellweather Media.”
“Bellweather Media?” I gasped, interrupting her ramble.
“Yeah. Bruce Conroy thought we should avoid looking nepotistic and using anyone from Rafe Media. Besides, we snagged their best reporter anyway.” She winked at me.
“D-don’t tell me…”
She tipped her head to the side, a wide smile gleaming. “Yup. You get an interview, one-on-one with the Orlune-wide famous, the makes-my-panties-wet gorgeous, the silver-foxy, one-and-only, Anthony Bellweather.” She shivered. “Screw the news about workplace boundaries. If we got to ride the elevator together, you’d better believe I’d spend the ride on my knees for him.”
My heart lodged in my throat. Anthony Bellweather was the most respected reporter in the whole country. He’d been first to more stories than I could count. We’d even done a unit on him in one of my journalism classes at the university.
Add to that, he was just as handsome as Wendy was gushing about. The result was I had to hold myself back from fangirling right along with Wendy. Of course, I wasn’t imagining the two of us in a sexual situation. But if I really did get a one-on-one interview with him, I might be able to die happy right after. What an odd role reversal to be the one people wanted to get an interview with.
“When?” I asked, trying to draw Wendy back from her squishy fantasies.
“Bruce Conroy wants you looking your best. Obviously, the Palace Press Panel isn’t going to want to advertise the palace’s horrible mistaken treatment of you. However, I have gotten wind that the officials who did this are on unpaid administrative leave and facing a trial.”
“But anyway,” she continued, “Anthony Bellweather has claimed the evening after you get released for your interview. He wants to jump you—I mean, jump on you—I’m so sorry. Freudian slips. Anthony wants to jump on the chance to interview you before you resume public life. He doesn’t want the story spoiled by random people with their phones recording while they ask dumb questions and then post online.”
“Too bad you got back together with Charles.” Wendy’s eyes gleamed. “Then again. I don’t see a ring. Anthony’s wife passed almost two years ago. You might have a shot with him. Trade your young, untried alpha in for an alpha who’s got the whole family fortune under his command. What I wouldn’t give for a peek at the Bellweather family jewels.”
“Urg. Wendy, you’re such a pervert. Seriously, get your husband a visit to the doctor. They make pills for this sort of thing, you know.”
“Oh, my husband and I had a discussion about that. He was missing things in our relationship, too. So, we agreed to test out an open marriage. He’s been fucking the barista at our local coffee shop. Like rabbits. Anyway, I’ve only had one fling, but it gave me a taste of what’s available, and I intend on sampling as many varieties of man candy as I can get my lips on.”
“Am I interrupting?” Charles asked, opening the door.
“I’m going to find that wayward guard of yours,” Wendy said, standing up. “We’ll coordinate a time when you get word when you’ll be released.”
She disappeared, and Charles looked between the door and me. “What was that all about?”
“I’m being interviewed… Like a celebrity… By Anthony Bellweather, no less.” I tried not to squeal when I said his name. I didn’t want to give Charles the wrong impression.
“I don’t like it,” Charles said, his voice tight. He took a seat in the chair, which now permanently sat near my head for visitors.
“Are you still worried about government backlash?” I whispered.
“A little. Mother and I agree that neither of us trusts any of this. We’re all missing something, and my gut tells me it’s a big thing.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at the ends. “But, no. Anthony Bellweather is a whole different set of problems.”
“How so?” I frowned. “He’s the most renowned reporter, no, journalist in all of Orlune. An interview with him guarantees national attention.” I gasped. “That’s the part you’re worried about.”
He shook his head. “He’s another alpha, and if they want to interview corrupt alphas, they need to look at him.”
Now, I scowled. “No way. How could you spend that much time reporting with such integrity if you were corrupt? What all has he done?”
Charles let out a sigh and slumped down in the chair. “I don’t know the full extent of his dealings. Just please, don’t do the interview.”
“It’s all set up through the editor-in-chief at the Palace Press. There’s no way I’d be able to get them to change it.”
“I bet you could. You’ve got the leverage right now.”
“Charles, I grew up wanting to write because of this man.”
“And your fiancé is asking you not to interview with him,” he snapped.
My lips quivered against the urge to cry.
Charles heaved a huge sigh. “Promise me you’ll at least call your boss and try to get a different reporter to interview you.”
I nodded, and tears dripped, streaking salt down my cheeks.
Charles leaned forward, smoothing my hair behind my ear. “Trust me. He’s as bad as anyone.” He looked like he wanted to say more, then stopped. “I have a little surprise for you.”
“What?” I asked, sniffing back tears.
He shook his head, eyes mischievous. Charles rummaged around in his pockets, then shifted the covers around. A moment later, an odd buzzing filled the room. My body tensed, then relaxed when he pressed a small vibrating cylinder to the soft mound of my womanhood.
“I doubt the doctor would approve,” I said.
He wiggled it between my lower lips. It buzzed against my clit, and my eyes closed. I sank back into the bed, letting the vibrations rocket through me.
“I know they’ll never let us have sex. You’re not ready. But that doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun.” He pressed something into my hand. “This one fits a man. Are you up to playing along?”
“I-I guess.” I stammered.
Charles sat on the bed beside me, twitching my covers so they draped across his lap. He undid his zipper and fitted the device over himself, then guided my hand to hold it. The two of us pleasured one another. To my surprise, the little cylinder was quite effective. I bit back cries of ecstasy. Charles jerked from under the covers to the chair, taking a hand towel that hung over the arm and catching his release in the fabric.
He tossed this in the laundry bin and shot me a wide smile. “There. No harm done, and I can tell we’re both feeling much better.”
I definitely couldn’t argue with that. But at the back of my brain, thoughts of the friction my interview with Anthony was causing nagged at me. I didn’t want to disappoint Charles. We’d just patched things up between us. But did that really mean I had to give up an interview with my inspiration?
