1 – Josh Receives His Fake Fiancée Assignment
Ashley Townsend parked her car, switched off the ignition, and sucked in a shaky breath. Then she followed her soldier brother’s curt reminder to take stock of her surroundings. Her gaze ran over the brick walls of her Labor party office in Manurewa, Auckland, and the pots of red and white petunias purchased to make the ugly building more welcoming. Three other cars sat near hers in the tiny parking lot behind the office, and she recognized each of them.
A light shone from the office reception area, piercing the early morning shadows with a welcome glow. Ashley’s breath hissed out, and she peeled her fingers free of the steering wheel. An uneasy laugh filled her vehicle interior.
Those letters.
The sense of someone watching her…
After another quick scan of the vicinity, she gathered her laptop, a fat purple folder, and her black handbag.
Time to get her crazy-busy day started. The campaign trail waited for no one since the election loomed in four weeks. With the way the Labor party—her chosen political affiliation—trailed the incumbent National party in the polls, she required every day, every minute, every second to sway voters.
New Zealand used the mixed-member proportional method or MMP system, where each voter received two votes: one for a party—any of ten this election—and one for a politician who stood in the voter’s region. This meant the smaller parties nipped at their heels too, jockeying to earn five percent or more of the votes. Any party reaching this milestone gained a parliamentary seat and, with it, influence for three years until the next election. She couldn’t afford to slack or to take a break to deal with her personal life.
Ashley exited her vehicle, locked it, and darted to the rear entrance she and the staff used. As per Matt’s lectures, after her mother and father had tattled, she kept focused. Two parked vehicles near the mini-mart across the road. One driving down the main road. Not stopping. Probably another worker starting their job at six-thirty in the morning. People lurking in the carpark. Nil.
Her pulse raced, faster than average, and didn’t slow until her hand settled on the doorknob and she stepped into the coffee-tinged atmosphere of her constituent office.
“Good morning,” she called out.
“Morning, boss,” Robert, her right-hand man, returned in a rumbly bass. He was two years older than her twenty-eight. Solid and dependable. His black hair and well-trimmed beard gave him a scholarly-look, but he was a keen runner and played soccer for a local team during the weekend.
“Hi, Ashley,” their young political hopeful chirped. With her restless fidgeting and bright-eyed enthusiasm, Carrie reminded Ashley of a young puppy, eager and excited to explore the world. Her thick brown curls, frizzy from Auckland’s humidity, reinforced the puppy metaphor.
“Good morning, Ashley. How did the dinner meeting with the business leaders go?” Sheryl held a volunteer position, but her many years of experience and marriage to a senior Labor politician, plus her commonsense smoothed the edges of most emergencies.
“They listened to my speech detailing what we intend to do in the business arena, and I answered their questions without a hitch. My study paid off. I think it went well. Robert?”
He gave a brisk nod. “Your answers came across as thoughtful and honest. Even better, you didn’t promise what we can’t deliver. Capital gains tax will be a problem. It’s a mistake to campaign on this issue. We’re better to win the voters over with social policy.”
Ashley sighed, tired of the subject and helpless to change her party’s stance. “I hear you, but Geoffrey is the party leader. His say is final.”
“He’s making a mistake, and the polls confirm this. The voters want change. We’ll remain the opposition party if we don’t alter the way we’re attacking this campaign.”
“Geoffrey deserves our loyalty,” Ashley said, her tone even and polite rather than the snappish chiding her instincts propelled her to unleash. “Is there much mail?”
The words, meant to distract him, pushed her heartbeat into a rapidbang-bang-bang. A chill raced down her spine while she waited for his reply.
“The normal stuff. I’ve dealt with what I can and written post-it notes for each piece.”
Relief had her knees wobbling beneath her black trousers. “I’ll deal with the mail before we head out to our breakfast meeting. Is there anything else requiring my attention?”
“A few letters from constituents. I’ve added them to the mail pile.”
Ashley nodded. “If I don’t emerge by seven-thirty, tap on my door. That’s the latest we can leave for the union leaders’ meeting.”
She hustled to her office and stepped inside. It held a modest wooden desk, two comfortable chairs for visitors, and modular shelving full of books for research. A painting by her mother adorned the wall—a scene of Auckland Harbor and Rangitoto Island, the dormant volcano that dominated the city panorama. Although she often left her door open, today she required privacy to pull herself together.
After speaking to her parents and brother, she’d reported the threatening letters to the police. Unfortunately, they couldn’t do much, although they’d make their presence known whenever she attended outdoor events, which she appreciated. The truth—her brother had scared her silly with his security lecture and his list of rules. She was jumping at every strange noise, acting the ninny in public.
This had to stop.
Ashley’s fight to retain her parliamentary seat required focus. Determination.
When she was five and wore her hair in pigtails, she’d told her parents she intended to be the queen of New Zealand. They’d pointed out the job was taken, so she’d decided the position of prime minister might be okay. Now, years later, her ambitions hadn’t veered from her chosen course. She dreamed of following other strong New Zealand women who’d claimed the ultimate power and run the country. Women who’d effected change.
This…this stalker was derailing her plans. She checked her watch and gasped. He or she—whichever sex her stalker claimed—would also make her late. Her days were jam-packed as it was, and she couldn’t afford to waste time jumping at shadows.
