He nodded, then shook his head as if disagreeing with himself.“They’ll say you shouldn’t be seen leaving my flat.”
I leaned in and kissed him.
“I never wanted to hide you,” I breathed, and the words came out raw.
* * *
Even before the SUV pulled up to the embassy, I saw the wall of cameras—lenses like rifle barrels, microphones thrust forward like bayonets.
“Stay tight,” my lead agent murmured.
The vehicle stopped.Doors opened.A roar went up.
“Ambassador Lewis—”
“Is it true—”
“Are you and the Duke—”
“Does the Palace approve—”
Questions hurled like stones, each one heavier than the last.Flashbulbs detonated in my face, so fast it felt like strobe lighting.The security detail closed ranks, a human barricade.I kept my head down, letting them form a wedge around me.My shoes hit the pavement.Hands reached out, and microphones grazed my coat.
“Move, sir,” one agent barked, muscling a cameraman back.
I walked forward, heart hammering, until the heavy glass doors swallowed us.The sound outside muted to a distant storm.Paula was waiting just inside, ramrod straight.Her expression was unreadable, but her eyes were sharp.She didn’t speak as I fell in step beside her.
The embassy corridors felt different this morning—too quiet.Staffers at their desks pretended to be busy but glanced up anyway.A few smiled thinly, apologetically.Most simply stared.
My cheeks burned.I kept my spine rigid, and my face neutral.A mask I’d worn my entire life, only it felt heavier now.
At last, we reached my office.Paula opened the door and stood aside.“He’s waiting,” she said crisply.“Secretary Kirk.Place the call now.”
Her words landed like a prison sentence.
She closed the door behind me, leaving me in silence.The air was stale, and the drapes were drawn.I crossed to my desk and could almost hear my pulse echoing off the walls.
Kirk.
I dreaded him more than the reporters.More than the gossip rags.The administration had never hidden its discomfort with people like me, but it had never been an issue before, until now.
I hit the call button, and the screen blinked.Kirk’s face appeared, and he was scowling.
“Ambassador Lewis,” he barked, no greeting, no pretense.His forehead shone under harsh D.C.lighting.“Do you know the magnitude of the crisis you’ve caused?”
“Mr.Secretary—”
“Spare me.”His lip curled.“Your reckless indiscretion has compromised your position, endangered our credibility, and jeopardised U.S.–U.K.relations.Do you understand what’s at stake?”
I clenched my hands in my lap and kept my voice measured.“Sir, I—”
“Compromising photographs splashed across every major outlet in the Western world,” he thundered.“Of you—our representative—entwined with a Windsor, for God’s sake.And he’s a man!Do you have any idea how this plays in Moscow?In Beijing?Do you?”
His voice rattled my desk.
“I take full responsibility,” I said, though the words tasted like sand.
“You’ll take more than responsibility.”His eyes narrowed, pale and pitiless.“You’ll rectify the situation.Immediately.If you don’t, you won’t need to worry about Moscow or Beijing—you’ll be on the next plane home.Recalled.Effective immediately.”
