Chapter 31
Thirty-One
“Just as a reminder, you don’t have to speak loudly or do anything special to be heard.
Just talk in your regular voice,” the pretty PA tells me, smiling shyly at me.
She adjusts the mic pack that I’m wearing and then steps back, a flush in her cheeks.
“Can I get you guys to both do a mic check for me, please?”
James is looking at his phone, his legs crossed and the top button of his dark shirt unbuttoned. We are in our parents’ living room preparing for a televised interview. But he’s hardly paying attention, his eyes fastened on his screen.
I lean over to the floral chair he’s slumped in, giving his shoulder a hard flick. He looks up, scowls at me sitting across from him, and stands up. “What? The fucking interviewer isn’t even here yet.”
The PA glances at him with a gulp. I give her a reassuring smile. “We’re fine. Give us a minute, will you? My brother, while uncouth, does have a good point. Can you please make sure we are not recorded until the interview begins? Nothing that we say is on the record until the interviewer arrives.”
“Of course, Lord Grayrose.” The PA bows her head, backing out of the room.
I cut my brother with my eyes as I straighten my tie and adjust my seat. We are posed with our backs to the brick facade of the fireplace. For once, my mother isn’t nattering around us, issuing us last minute instructions.
Instead, she and our dad are off somewhere that the tv crew can’t possibly hear, having what I imagine is a very lively and long-winded argument.
James gives me a tiny glare. “Don’t start.”
“I didn’t say a word.”
He rolls his eyes. “You are insufferable.”
“And yet, Dad asked me to babysit you during this interview. Probably because he knows he can’t just leave you to your own devices.”
He glowers at me. “I will have you know that there has been a lot of back and forth between Mum and Dad, talking about what they are going to do about your situation. How are things with that sweet little au pair of yours, Keir?”
My temple aches and I rub it, glancing at him out of the corner of my eye.
“You are tiresome,” I say.
“Is that what your gorgeous little piece of tail has to say about you?”
His expression is perfectly innocent. Much as I am won’t to admit it, James actually does have the lying and backstabbing part of being a politician down to an art.
“Just remember. You need me to whip the media storm in your favor. Without that piece, Dad and Mum wouldn’t even be trying to put you up for political office. You have a horrible personality.”
“At least I can find people to fuck outside my child’s nursery,” comes his quick retort.
“Been saving that one for a while, have you?”
“Hello!” Anna Armand breezes in the room, a bright smile on her face. She is fully made up, looking pretty in her bright pink skirted suit and impossibly whitened teeth. She tosses her long, lacquered hair back and looks between James and me.
“Anna, thank you for doing this,” I say, offering her a handshake.
She accepts, clenching my hand briefly. Her smile widens. “Actually, I was hoping to add a second interviewer. You know, make it more of a group dynamic, like you would see on Good Morning Britain. Does that sound okay with both of you?”
“Sure.” I frown, checking with James. He shrugs, checking his phone. “We are back on the record as of now. Why not?”
“I thought you would feel that way. Allow me to introduce Wendy Alan. She works for the New York division of NewsCorp.”
It takes every bit of control I’ve got in order for me to keep my face utterly blank when Wendy walks in the room. Her eyes go directly to mine and she smiles at me, carefully showing each and every one of her teeth.
What in the fuck is she doing here?
She bows her head at both James and me, then brushes her hand over her skirt as she sits. James tilts his head in a way that I know means that he is speculating just how long it would take to get her out of her blue chiffon shift dress. He doesn’t seem to know that anything is amiss.
I stare Wendy down, not quite believing she’s here. Anna sits down beside her. I have to wonder whether she, too, knows what Wendy knows. I squint at both of them.
My guess is no, that Wendy wouldn’t tell anybody the whole story. She wants to expose me herself, the plucky reporter and the greedy billionaire.
A David and Goliath story if I ever heard one. At least, what her version of it seems to be.
“We didn’t agree to two interviewers,” I say. “There was a contract drawn up between us before we ever set foot in this studio. And it was extremely clear on that point. Anna is supposed to interview both of us. And a good portion of the questions have already been agreed upon.”
Anna and Wendy smile reassuringly at me. Wendy reaches over and pats my arm. I stiff and jerk away, glaring at her.
“The studio checked the contract thoroughly before they gave me the green light to invite Wendy to join.” Anna flutters her eyelashes at me.
“You’re blowing this out of proportion,” James adds, slapping me on the back. “Just relax. Everyone is here to talk about my campaign.”
He seems so sure of himself. I slide him a look, wondering if he is somehow in on this whole conspiracy. It’s unlikely… but not impossible.
I stand up, plucking the mic wire from my collar. “No way. I’m not doing this.”
Mum rushes into the room, looking severe. “What’s the issue? Is there something I don’t know about?”
I squint at her, my face heating up. The lie comes easily to my lips. “No.”
“The studio is trying to change the terms of the interview,” I bite out. “I am not going to be questioned by someone I’m not familiar with and have that interview recorded for national broadcast. That’s insane. They must think I’m an idiot.”
Mum looks around me, eyeing the two journalists. She quirks a brow.
“Ladies. Who has the list of questions? There must be one written down somewhere.”
Anna and Wendy look at each other. There is a moment of communication between them and then Anna stands up, brandishing her notecards at my mother.
My mother grabs them, pulls on her reading glasses, and does a quick inspection. When she looks back up, she passes the cards to me.
“It looks like there isn’t a single question about your daily life here. It’s mostly about your brother. There are a few questions that call for past anecdotes, but I don’t see a real problem here.”
I lower my voice, turning my mother and whispering in her ear.
“I’m not worried about Anna. It’s the other woman I don’t like.
Besides, they wouldn’t have written down any questions that are incriminating.
” She gives me a quelling glare. “The news studio only agreed to do this interview if you were a part as well. But we have made it perfectly clear that your past is strictly off limits. Now please, do the damned interview. We have got to get your brother out there and mark his face in the collective memory of the voters.”
She grips my wrist, staring directly into my eyes. She so rarely asks me for anything that I find her plight compelling.
But that doesn’t mean I am going to let my guard down, either.
“Fine,” I whisper. “But if they ask me about even one question about Kingsley or try to trap me in a confession about anything, I’m leaving.”
Mum smiles at me. “Agreed.”
She spins me around, patting me on the arm. Handing the cards back to Anna, she announces my decision. “Stick to the cards. Anything else is off limits.”
“We are allowed to ask a few other questions,” Anna says. “According to the contract.”
“No personal questions about either of my sons that haven’t been previously cleared through me. Okay?” Mum says.
“Sure thing,” Wendy answers, chipper as all get out. “We are ready as soon as you are, Lord Grayrose.”
Steeling myself, I trudge back to my seat, my feet feeling like they are each filled with lead weights.
Wendy smirks at me as the PA comes in and refits my mic.
I do my best to remain expressionless and uninteresting to her.
Mum scoots out of the room but hovers in the doorway, her facial expression tense.
I take a breath and try to tell the voice that is screaming at me inside to turn in down a notch.
The cameraman says, “And… we are rolling in 3… 2… 1…”
He points at all of us. Anna beams at the camera.
“I’m Anna Armand, joined by veteran reporter Wendy Allen.
We are here today with the up-and-coming candidate for prime minister, Lord James Grayrose.
His brother Lord Keiran Grayrose is here as well.
Keiran is the CEO of NewsCorp and a great philanthropist as well. Welcome, everyone!”
James instantly turns on the charm. “Thank you, Anna. It is a pleasure to be here with you today.”
I quietly nod. Anna and Wendy have a few softball questions for us first.
“Where did you grow up?” Anna asks, leaning in.
“Well, Anna. It’s funny that you ask that because we are here in front of one of my favorite spots in my parents’ house.
” James shoots me a grin. “We are next to the fireplace in our living room. Keiran and I spent many a night right here when we were younger, spread out across the floor, reading comic books. Isn’t that right? ”
I pick up the ball that he’s rolled to my feet, “That’s right, James. When we were a bit older, we replaced those comic books with James Joyce novels and books about how black holes are formed. But we kept up the habit of reading in here, in our Glasgow home.”
“You two don’t sound Scottish to my ears!” Wendy says, laughing at her own joke.
“We actually both went to boarding school in England and attended Oxford for university,” I explain.
“We spent a lot of time traveling in our school years as well. My brother might not just come out and say it, but our father Lord Beaumont Grayrose, was also prime minister of Scotland. We were essentially raised in the public eye, Wendy.”
“Is that why you are running for prime minister? To continue that tradition?”
“Yes,” James says, smiling. “That is certainly part of it. I also believe that healthcare and jobs need a massive reformation. And I’m here to tell you now that I am the man for the job.
I’m a dogged advocate for every man, woman, and child here in the whole UK.
And being from Scotland, I’m already used to having to convince people that I belong.
I like to work toward people knowing I’m going to be right there, giving a megaphone to their voices and their interests.
That’s why I’ll make the most successful prime minister: because I understand the issues our country faces and I am willing to fight for what we all believe in. ”
“That sounds great. Honestly, I wish that everyone felt that kind of fire for politics. I can’t even pretend to care when someone starts telling me about anything to do with taxes,” Anna jokes.
“Tell me about it. Thank god for accountants, honestly!” Wendy chimes in.
“I know we have some great ones,” James says.
Both women nod, smiling. Wendy turns to me and I shift, reminding myself to smile.
“You two have been on the campaign trail together for about a month, right? My sources say that you kicked off your tour in America, of all places.”
She clearly directed it at me, but James fields the question like a pro.
“I would say that we are announcing my run for prime minister right now!” he says, easily avoiding the question. “Thank you both for taking part in my announcement.”
Wendy doesn’t even lose momentum. She just peers straight at me. “I heard that you have hired an American au pair for your young daughter. How is that going? I imagine that you’ve been working really closely together with her—”
“It’s been fine!” I raise my voice, giving her an even smile. “Honestly, I’ve been so busy with running NewsCorp and working on my brother’s campaign that I’ve barely had time to sleep.”
Her expression tightens. “A source told me that your wife is actually in the Netherlands and has been there for quite some time. What can you tell me about that?”
Rage fills my veins. It takes everything in me not to rip the mic pack off and demand that Wendy get the fuck out of my mother’s living room.
Instead I blink slowly, then give her a puzzled look. “Nothing. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I frown at Anna, raising an eyebrow. “Anna, do you know something I don’t? Because this isn’t making much sense to me.”
Anna swallows nervously, smiling at Wendy.
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
Wendy looks dead at me. “You and your au pair witnessed the death of my partner, Max Hershal.”
“Okay,” James tries to cut in, standing up. “This interview has really gone off the rails. We are supposed to be talking about my ministerial run.”
“Max must have uncovered something about you and your nanny,” Wendy says, her face flushing. “That’s why you paid someone to run him down. That’s why you’re not answering me now!”
I huff a laugh, although inside a cold hand clenches in a fist around my heart. Standing up, I give Anna a skeptical look.
“I really thought you were more professional than this. You realize that I am one of the most powerful men in the media industry, right?”
She stands up, her expression unreadable. “If you’ll just stay, I can ask the questions that you were expecting—,” she tries.
I give her a cold glare. “I’m done. I don’t know what kind of planning went into this little scheme, but the two of you are done.
This may not be a NewsCorp station, but I know your boss, your boss’s boss, and so on, all the way up the food chain.
If I were you, I would make sure my CV was nice and tight.
Because you’re done in broadcast journalism. ”
With that, I finally rip out my mic pack and stalk out of the room. James is right on my tail, following me like a lost puppy.
“What was that?” he demands. “What do I need to know about that woman accusing you of killing her husband?”
I stop for a second, causing him to run into me. My voice is hard and my fists are clenched. “There is nothing to know. They are just journalists, salivating over a fake news story.”
“Is it fake?” James asks. “Because Wendy seemed to know an awful lot about your life. She even asked about Kingsley’s whereabouts.”
“It was just fishing for information. They left with nothing. And now, if you’ll excuse me, I would like to get the fuck away from this house and pretend like I didn’t just almost ruin my life to do you a favor.”
With that, I march down the stairs, making a beeline for my SUV.