“Jude!” Tyson’s louder this time, and there’s more panic in his voice.
I open the door and lean against it. There’s no hint of amusement or happiness on my face either. “What, Tyson?”
He’s fully dressed in his business suit, hair perfectly combed like we had a meeting I hadn’t remembered. It is way too early to be this pulled together. “Have you seen the news?”
I glance over my shoulder as Reagan walks toward us, tying her robe closed. “Been kind of busy.”
Tyson gives Reagan a small smile, but his eyes are quickly back on me. “We need to talk in private.”
“She’s my wife, Tyson. Not the enemy.”
Reagan slides her arm around my side and flattens her palm against my stomach just above the waistband of my shorts. “I promise not to leak a word of whatever you’re about to say,” she tells him, but she doesn’t have to because we don’t keep secrets from each other.
Tyson shifts between his feet and blows out a shaky breath. “We have a major problem.” He glances around the hallway and jerks his chin toward the room. “Let me inside.”
Reluctantly, I move backward, keeping Reagan behind me, and let Tyson into the one place I thought was going to be a work-free zone for the next so many hours. But as usual, he has a way of spoiling everything.
“What’s wrong?” I ask as soon as the door clicks shut.
Tyson paces in front of the window, rubbing his hands together. I haven’t seen him this worked up over something in a long time, so whatever it is, it isn’t good. “Someone went to the media stating they’ll be filing sexual harassment charges against you later today.”
His words are like a punch to the gut as I rock backward and wonder if I heard him wrong. “Say that again.”
Reagan’s clutching my side so tightly, her fingernails are going to leave a mark. “No one will believe her.”
“The media’s already all over it, Jude.The Golden Boy Is Going Downwas the last headline I saw come across my phone. There was alsoTitan’s Tryst.”
“For fuck’s sake.” I glance toward the ceiling and try to calm myself down before I let my anger get the better of me.
“What do we know? Who is it?” Reagan asks, finally stepping out from behind me.
“I have people trying to find out. Right now, I only know what the media has reported, and it isn’t much.”
“Maybe she’ll just go away.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, knowing what a shitstorm this is going to cause in today’s political climate. “I’ve never been inappropriate with anyone on my staff or off.”
“I’ll get out in front of this,” Tyson says.
“You’re already behind it if you don’t even know who it is,” Reagan says sharply. “Get the rest of the team in herenow.”
13
Reagan
Jude’s communicationsmanager has to go. The first moment I get alone with my husband, I’m breaking the news.
Monica is in her late twenties, and she’s a social media whiz. She can pump positive stories out there like no one I’ve ever seen. But right now, we’re in crisis mode for the first time, and I can’t believe the way she’s responding.
“Don’t worry about this,” she says to Jude for at least the tenth time. “We’ll smother it with coverage of what you’re doing for veterans.”
“This isn’t just aboutourfeeds,” I say from the edge of the couch I’m sitting on. “The media isn’t going to run with any of our stuff about veterans’ issues right now. It’s going to be this story and nothing else.”
“But aren’t sex scandals a dime a dozen these days?” I look over to see who said it, and it’s an intern casually leaning against a wall. “I say you apologize deeply and don’t discuss it again after that.”
There’s a moment of stunned silence before Jude roars, “I didn’t fucking do anything!”
“Babe.” I lay a hand on his inked forearm. “Keep it down. We don’t want anyone overhearing any of this.”
