Nothing about today seems real.Finding the office in chaos, writing a spur-of-the-moment speech for Cortez to give to the media, Leo kissing me… What’s next? A jaguar playing the flute?
In the large conference room, I scrub my palms over my thighs. A dozen reporters gather in the first two rows of seats, waiting for the Vice President’s statement. They talk amongst themselves, gossiping, trading rumors about the break-in.
I stand with the rest of the staff against the wall. Though Manuel told us all to go home, not a single person has left. At a time like this, unity is important.
Leo comes up behind me, his hands molding to my waist. “Stay right here until I come back for you, okay?”
“Do you really think there’s danger…here?” I hiss. “Now?”
He leans closer so his lips brush my cheek. “Not taking any chances, remember?”
The heat of him makes my core clench, despite how my heart wants to beat out of my chest. “Where are you going?”
“To find out if these reporters know anythinguseful.” Leo’s entire demeanor changes as he makes his way through the rows of chairs to find a seat directly behind the press.
He’s calm in a way I have not seen before. Slinging his left arm over the back of the chair, he stretches his legs out and crosses them at the ankles. But as still and relaxed as his body is, Leo’s gaze pings from one journalist to the next.
“What is he doing?” Rafael asks. “He’s not press.”
I turn, glaring at him. “Leo has a bad ankle. He cannot stand for long periods of time. There are plenty of empty seats.”
“He shouldn’t even be here.”
Before I can tell Rafael to mind his own business, Manuel strides into the room. The chatter stops the moment he takes the podium.
“Good morning,” he says, only a hint of strain to his voice. “Sometime after 2:00 a.m. this morning, one or more individuals vandalized my campaign headquarters. The building was empty, and the crime was not discovered until a few minutes after six. A dozen laptops were destroyed, and some of our confidential files were accessed. Given the timing of this attack, I will be speaking with my opponent, Eduardo Muñoz, and asking for his assurances that he and his campaign had no part in it. The Institutional Protection Service—along with the National Police—are investigating, and we will share updates as we get them. I will now take questions.”
For ten minutes, he gives the practiced, official answers we crafted earlier.
Nothing was taken.
The files were all related to campaign finances.
No national security secrets were exposed.
“That is all the time I have today,” Manuel announces, holding up his hands. “I hope I will see you all at the rally tomorrow.”
The journalists continue to call out questions until Manuel is nothing but a memory in the room. Leo doesn’t move, waiting for each and every one of them to file out before he limps over to me.
“At least two of them are loyal to Muñoz. The woman from thePanama City Business Journalthinks elections are boring.”
For the first time today, I chuckle. “Boring? Today has been anything but boring.”
Leo reaches up and drags a knuckle along my jaw. “You’re exhausted.”
“I work for the man who will be president. I am always exhausted,” I say softly. “We need to get your VIP pass for the rally tomorrow. Then we can go.”
Taking Leo’s hand, I escort him back through the security doors. All around us, people are packing up what little they have left. Thank God I brought my laptop home last night. My office was one of the few largely untouched, and I wonder why. Because my computer was gone? Or because whoever did this knew they would not find anything?
Rafael looks up when I knock on his door. “Yes?”
“I need a VIP pass for tomorrow’s rally. Manuel authorized it.”
“He would not…”
At my side, Leo tenses, but I quickly intervene before the two men come to blows. “Check your email.”
Grumbling, Rafael picks up his phone. After a minute of scrolling, he shakes his head. “He’s not thinking clearly. After this morning…”
