I glance at Rosanna's hand resting on the seat between us.
We arrive at the O'Malley Corporation headquarters, where the press conference will be held.
The board insisted that it would make me look more stable and the corporation look more reliable.
It’s manipulative. It’s also effective.
As the car pulls up to the private entrance, I see the press already gathered at the front of the building.
"We'll go in the back way," I tell Rosanna. "The vultures can wait until we're ready."
In the executive suite converted to a staging area, Marissa greets us.
She's brought an ERS team who immediately begin fussing over Rosanna's appearance and reviewing key talking points with her.
I'm left with Noah Carroway, the ERS lawyer who drafted our contract. "Everything still on track?" he asks.
I nod, though the question irritates me.
The ink on our marriage license is barely dry, and already they're monitoring for signs of instability.
"Good," Noah continues. "The narrative we're promoting is that you kept the relationship private to nurture it without public pressure. That explains the sudden announcement."
Tessa Bloom approaches with last-minute instructions.
"Remember, you've been together long enough to be comfortable but not long enough to lose the newlywed glow," she says. "Seamus, you should look at Rosanna when she speaks, not at the cameras or your notes."
Her tone is gentle but firm. I resist the urge to remind her that I've been handling the press since before she was out of college.
Instead, I simply nod and move toward Rosanna, who looks increasingly uncomfortable as the minutes tick down.
"Ready?" I ask.
We walk into the conference room as a unit, my hand resting lightly on Rosanna's lower back.
The flashes begin immediately, a storm of light and clicking shutters.
I feel Rosanna tense beneath my palm but she keeps moving forward, her expression composed. I guide her to the table set up at the front of the room, pulling out her chair first—a detail Marissa specifically noted would "read well" in the coverage.
We sit side by side, closer than is strictly necessary, my notes perfectly aligned before me.
I begin with the prepared statement, my voice calibrated to hit the exact notes of pleased confidence without arrogance.
"As many of you have already reported, I recently married the talented artist and children's advocate Rosanna Lopez. While this may seem sudden to the public, we chose to nurture our relationship privately before sharing it with the world."
The words feel strange in my mouth.
When it's Rosanna's turn to speak, I'm prepared for hesitation or awkwardness. Instead, she surprises me.
Her voice is clear and steady as she describes her work with children's literacy and her passion for creating spaces where imagination can flourish.
She doesn't mention our relationship directly, focusing instead on her own projects, but she occasionally glances my way with a warmth that seems remarkably genuine.
The reporters respond to her instantly, their expressions shifting toward respect.
She's good at this.
The questioning begins, and as expected, the press immediately tries to bait me about my past.
