“Patrick has been investigating him. He was in the office the other day, and...”
“And what?” asked Edward.
“You can’t repeat this.”
He nodded.
“My boss’s new boyfriend is Grant Kincaid’s husband. Well, ex-husband, except they’re not divorced yet.”
“What the fuck!”
Edward wasn’t sure what else to say. He had no idea why some mob boss wanted to out him. He knew organised crime was an issue in the UK, but why were they interfering with politics? If Patrick was involved with this Grant guy’s husband, it had to be related to that, and he was just caught in the crossfire.
“Is there anything I can say to persuade him to hold off?” he asked Milo.
“He wanted to make you an offer.”
“What’s that? Sell my story to him, and he’ll make me look good?”
“Something like that.”
Edward snapped. “Tell him to get fucked. In fact, tell him this. On Monday, the prime minister is going to announce she’s stepping down, which will kick off a leadership contest. If he prints this, then it’ll put Hargreaves in number ten.”
He turned around and walked out before he said something to Milo he’d regret. He knew it wasn’t his fault, and he was just the messenger, but that didn’t stop him from being angry. Why did this have to happen now? In another fewweeks it wouldn’t have mattered. Well, the pictures would always matter, but if he was already out, the public would see it as a gross invasion of privacy. But now it would be titillating gossip. Before he could open the door, Derek grabbed him.
“Where are you going?”
“To the office.”
“You need to speak to Patrick.”
“No I don’t. If he really wants to interfere in a leadership election, he’ll lose all his credibility.”
“At least speak to Milo. Don’t just walk out like this. It’s not his fault.”
“I know, but I just need some time to think.”
Before Derek could say anything else, he was out the door and heading for his car.
It took forty-eight hours for the story to break: “Deputy PM’s Private Life Exposed.”
It wasn’t the most inventive headline, but once it was out there the other papers took things to another level and made sure people knew he was with another man in the pictures, which was obvious enough to anyone who could see.
And then, “Deputy PM’s Gay Rent Boy Romp.” That had been the clincher.He’d stopped looking after that. The press office at number ten had told him not to speak to anybody, and any statements had to go through them. His silence was only making things worse. His leadership chances were gone, so what did it matter now? It appeared as if he was ashamed of who he was. He needed to say something. There was a scrum of reporters outside his house, so he wouldn’t even need to call a press conference; he could just walk out the door and give his statement. Before he could think any more about it, his phone rang. It was Olivia, so he answered it.
“Good morning, boss.”
“How are you holding up?”
“I want to make a statement.”
“I thought you might. I’m just calling to let you know I will not be making the announcement on Monday. Let this all blow over, and we’ll pick a new date in a few weeks.”
“Okay, so what do I do? Call a press conference? I don’t want to be scripted by the press office, but I also don’t want to deal with their intrusive questions either.”
“What about an exclusive with someone?”
“Sally has called me a few times.”
