Wait for Me (18 page)

Ryan turned his icy gaze on Simone. “I hate the fucking press.”

She smiled at the confrontation. “I’m sure they feel the same way about you.”

Simone slipped an arm around Kate’s waist. “I think we need to go over our game plan. We make it clear the children are off limits. You make a joint statement, act like you’re on civil speaking terms” —she shot a speculative glance at Ryan— “then answer a few brief questions. The whole thing will be over in a few minutes.”

Ryan let out a huff.

“And you, Mr. Multimillionaire,” Simone said. “You’ll be polite and courteous. The press will tear Kate to shreds if you’re an ass to them. I know it’s worked for you in the past, but this time you have other people to think about. This time, the press isn’t interested in your business. They’re interested in your family. It’s a whole new ball game.”

***

Not even a torrential downpour could keep the press away. Kate glanced out the window of the penthouse suite in the Hawthorn Hotel at the sheets of rain slamming the city. Dark and gray, much like her mood, no end in sight to the depressing day.

Turning away from the rain, she tried to refocus on what was about to happen, but every time she looked at Ryan, she was startled by the image he created. Surrounded by a group of men and one woman, he looked every bit the power player he was. He wore an expensive navy suit with a crisp white shirt and blue-checked tie, and somehow, dressed like that, in this environment, she could easily see why people were so intimidated by him.

She wished Simone was with her but she’d already gone downstairs to herd the press. While Ryan continued to ignore her and talk to his team instead, Kate’s anxiety amped. She’d seen how angry he was yesterday when the story had broken, but he had to know this wasn’t a normal event for her. Would a little humanity right now be too much to ask from the man?

A member of Ryan’s team peeked his head in the door. “It’s time, Mr. Harrison.”

Kate’s stomach fluttered.
Here we go
. She dropped her arms, straightened her jacket, all the while wondering how the hell her life had gotten so complicated. Before she could take a step toward the door, the lone woman in Ryan’s group approached her.

“Ms. Alexander, I’m Hannah Hughes, Vice President of Public Relations for AmCorp. Ryan’s brought me up to speed. I realize this is probably a lot to deal with right now and if there’s anything AmCorp can do to make you more comfortable, please let us know.”

Kate was about to respond when Hannah stepped past her and out into the hallway with the rest of Ryan’s team. Okay, so much for chitchat. That felt scripted.

Kate turned when Ryan walked up beside her.

“Ready?” he asked.

She nodded and swallowed the growing lump in her throat.

He stayed next to her as they walked down the hallway, the expression on his face blank and emotionless. For the first time since she’d met him, Kate wished desperately he’d say something, anything to her. Even yelling at her was better than this.

They rode the elevator in silence. No one—not a single member of his team—spoke. When the elevator pinged and the door opened, though, they were instantly swarmed by the press, by cameras flashing and reporters hollering questions. Ryan reached for her elbow and guided her into the conference room. TV cameras were shoved in their faces, blinding lights and microphones. For the first time, Kate caught a glimpse of Ryan’s public image, of how frustrating it must be to be in the spotlight. She didn’t like it. And she didn’t want it.

At the far end of the room sat a long table and a podium with a bank of microphones. Ryan’s team of lawyers filtered to the mikes where Simone was already waiting. Kate and Ryan stepped up behind them.

Simone leaned over. “You okay?”

Kate nodded, though what she really wanted to do was throw up.

Hannah Hughes spoke first, bringing a hush over the fifty or so reporters gathered in the room. “Good morning,” she said in a firm and confident voice. “I’m Hannah Hughes, Vice President of Public Relations for AmCorp. I’d like to lay some ground rules before we get started. Mr. Harrison and Ms. Alexander have asked me to read a statement, during which we request you refrain from asking questions. Afterwards, Mr. Harrison and Ms. Alexander will open the floor up for a brief question-and-answer session.”

She slipped on her glasses and glanced down at the prepared statement. “Five years ago, Mr. Harrison’s wife of seven years, seismologist Anne Harrison, boarded flight 1466 bound for Denver, Colorado.” What followed was a vague description of the events that brought them together.

Hannah didn’t seem to miss a beat as she read through the statement. She kept right on going, her gaze steady across the sea of reporters, never looking at any one person for very long, never showing a hint of emotion. The reporters listened intently, jotting notes and focusing on her words. Hannah glanced up when she finished, then stepped back and let Kate and Ryan approach the mike. Nervous tension ran through Kate, but she did her best to smile when the cameras turned on her.

“Good morning,” Ryan said. “If we’d have known there was going to be a three-ring circus here today, we’d have booked a clown for the festivities.” He flashed a mesmerizing smile—one Kate had never seen before—and several people in the audience laughed.

“Unfortunately,” he went on, his face hardening, “this situation is anything but a laughing matter. I don’t think I need to tell you that we’re just as shocked by recent developments as you are. Upon completion of this press conference, neither Ms. Alexander nor myself will be answering questions regarding our personal lives. I’d appreciate your cooperation in this, and request that you give us the space we need to deal with this situation on our own.”

As soon as he paused, a wave of arms shot into the air, followed by voices trying to be heard. Ryan pointed to one reporter and waited. “Can you tell us who recognized Ms. Alexander?” the man asked.

“Yes. Simone Conners, a lawyer here in the city.”

“Ms. Alexander,” another reporter asked, “can you explain how your memory has been affected since your accident?”

“I can try,” Kate said with a smile. “I’m not able to remember anything before waking up from that coma. My memory basically started eighteen months ago.”

Hands went up all over the room, and Kate pointed to a young female with red hair. “Ms. Alexander, how did you end up in Houston?”

“If I had the answer to that question we wouldn’t be standing here right now, would we?” She smiled and called on another reporter.

“Ms. Alexander,” a bald man with thick glasses asked, “did you recognize Mr. Harrison when you saw him?”

“No. I’ve seen plenty of pictures of Mr. Harrison, his reputation is legendary, but I never recognized him.”

“Ms. Alexander,” another reporter asked with a smile. “What do you think of Mr. Harrison’s renowned and somewhat ruthless reputation?”

For reasons she’d never understand, the press seemed to be focusing in on her. Kate tried to keep a calm outward appearance, but inside her stomach flopped all over the place like a fish out of water. Working for a smile, she said, “Mr. Harrison appears to be a shrewd business man, but I assure you he’s human just like everyone else.”

Her response garnered a wave of laughter from the crowd and raised brows from Ryan.

Kate pointed to another man. “Mr. Harrison,” this one asked, “how does it feel to see your wife again after five years and not have her recognize you?”

Ryan ignored the question, pointing instead to a young blonde in the front row. Kate shifted her feet, recognizing the tension pulsing from Ryan.

“Ms. Alexander,” the female reporter asked. “What are your intentions at this point?”

“At this point, I simply want to get to know my family again. I’m going to expect the press gives us time to accomplish that goal.”

Kate pointed to a reporter in the third row. “Mr. Harrison, what was your reaction when you saw your wife for the first time?”

“Shock.” He pointed to another reporter, obviously not wanting to elaborate or give them anything to go on.

“Ms. Alexander,” the man asked, “how did Mr. Harrison react when he found out you’d been remarried?”

How did the press know that? They hadn’t given any specifics about Jake or her marriage in that prepared speech. Kate saw Ryan’s jaw clench out of the corner of her eye. It was the only time through the whole press conference she’d seen him flinch.

“Ask another question,” Ryan cut in before she could answer.

“Ms. Alexander,” another reporter asked. “Have you filed for divorce from Mr. Harrison?”

Again, Kate watched Ryan’s jaw tighten, and she quickly answered before his temper kicked in. “At this point, we’ve hardly had time to digest the information, let alone make any decisions about the future.” She pointed to another reporter.

“Ms. Alexander, we understand you have a son. Have you had paternity tests run to verify if Mr. Harrison is his father?”

“We will not be discussing our children,” Ryan said before Kate could answer. “Any reporter who attempts to question our children will have to deal with me personally.”

Kate sensed his waning patience. “We’ll take one more question.” She pointed to a bald man in the fourth row.

“Mr. Harrison,” he began. “Considering California is a community property state, what legal action have you taken to protect yourself financially from Ms. Alexander and her lawyer from filing for divorce and seizing half your assets? It’s basically a foregone conclusion at this point. Isn’t it a nice little coincidence she waited until your net worth was at its peak to suddenly show up on the scene?” There was a hint of sarcasm in the man’s voice that said he couldn’t wait to see Ryan Harrison knocked down a notch.

“I’ll kindly remind you that you’re speaking about my wife,” Ryan snapped before Kate could step in and diffuse the question. “I don’t give a rat’s ass what conclusions you draw from the situation. Your freedom of speech doesn’t give you the right to pry into my personal life. This press conference is over.” He stepped away from the mike, grasped Kate’s hand, and pulled her behind him out of the conference room.

His assistant was already holding the elevator when they swept into the hall. Ryan let go of Kate’s hand as soon as the doors closed behind them. A muscle in his jaw twitched like it had a life of its own.

Kate swallowed, not quite sure what to say or do. When the elevator doors opened, Ryan yanked off his tie and unbuttoned the collar of his shirt. He tossed his jacket across the back of the couch and stalked into the adjoining bedroom. Kate let out a deep breath and closed her eyes as the door slammed shut.

That had gone about as well as a root canal. She couldn’t wait to see the papers tomorrow morning.

The door opened behind her, and a wave of suits filled the room. Hannah Hughes strolled in, slipped off her glasses, and pinched the bridge of her nose. “Well,” she said on a sigh, “that went well. So much for all the prep work we did with Ryan.”

Talking with Ryan’s VP of whatever wasn’t high on Kate’s list right now. She headed for the bedroom.

“I’d rethink that if I were you, Ms. Alexander,” Hannah said as she sat on a barstool and one of the other suits handed her a drink. “You’ll want to give him a while to calm down.”

“The hell I do.” Kate thrust the door open with her hip. It slapped closed behind her.

Ryan stood across the room with one hand braced high on the window frame, looking out across the bay at the waves of rain dousing the city.

“You really have a way with reporters, Ryan. I can see why the press loves you as much as they do.”

“Go away. I’m not in the mood.”

A half laugh, half yell bubbled through her. “I don’t really care what you’re in the mood for. You weren’t the only one in that room downstairs and if anyone should be upset it’s me. They didn’t sandblast your character or your intentions in this situation, just mine. They made me out to be some slut gold digger who turned up on your doorstep because she wants your money.”

When he didn’t respond, she stepped farther into the room, a little concerned he actually believed that bullshit they were throwing around down there. “Turn around when I’m talking to you. I’ve a right to see your face when we’re arguing.”

He spun around, and the enraged eyes and bulging vein in his temple told her his temper had reached its limit. “You’ve got no rights when it comes to me. You relinquished your rights when you walked out on me five years ago!”

“What the hell kind of statement is that? You’re blaming me now for this whole mess?”

“You were always too goddamned independent. I asked you not to go on that stupid trip, but you wouldn’t listen to me. You had to do just as you damn well pleased, like always, and now look at the fucking mess we’re in.”

Kate’s eyes narrowed. “You son of a bitch. How dare you bring up something like that, something I don’t even remember. As you so easily reminded me yesterday, I’m your wife, not some measly peon you can order around and treat like garbage.”

She turned to leave, but he crossed the floor, grasped her arm, and whirled her around before she could get away. “My wife? That’s a laugh. Yesterday you didn’t want to have anything to do with being my wife, and now, when it’s convenient and you can use it, you throw it in my face?”

“Take your hands off me.”

“Or what?” He backed her against the wall, his height a looming advantage, more than evident to her at the moment. “If you’re my wife, don’t I have the right to touch you? Or are you the only one with rights around here? There’s a whole slew of reporters downstairs. Why don’t you just run down and tell them what an ass I am. They’re looking for something else to print about me.”

The heat from his hands all but burned the skin of her arm beneath her jacket. A dark fire brewed in his eyes, a hint of danger. Her pulse quickened, her senses peaked when she caught a whiff of his musky cologne.

She wasn’t attracted to arrogant, domineering men. She wasn’t. Not at all.

So why was her heart thumping wildly in her chest?

“Let go of me,” she said with as much calm as she could muster.