Page 24 of Missed Communication
“But that doesn’t mean he has to resign. Have you seen Jamie? He said to meet him down here.”
She shakes her head. “Not yet.”
As Joyce is about to say something else, Vice President Vasileiou and her husband, Finn, approach. I’m unsure how much information they have, but given her husband’s reputation in Washington, she likely knows more than Joyce and I do. Before I have a moment to greet them, she groans, “Can we have one event where someone isn’t being proposed to?”
Eyes wide, I suck in a breath. “Propose? Who is proposing?”
“Aye, rumor has it the Prime Minister is sweet on your Governor,” Finn replies with a chuckle. His Irish lilt is almost as sexy as hearing Jamie when he speaks Spanish, but I quickly brush the thought away. The last thing I need to be doing is swooning after the accents of a married man who I suspect is part of a mafia family or the hot Canadian I’ll never see after tomorrow.
“Okay, let’s say hypothetically he does have plans to wife her up; we need to keep this quiet,” I insist, hating how this week has ended on a sour note. “I’ll need to meet with Ned to see what he can do to minimize any negative press. And I don’t want Olivia to feel pressured into saying yes because of cameras.”
“Saying yes to what?” Livy asks from behind, and all of us turn to face her. She’s flanked by Tracy and our head of security, Westley. The poor guy has had to work twice as hard this week to ensure Olivia and Isaac could spend time together without getting caught, but it was all for nothing because the lovebirds couldn’t keep their hands and mouths to themselves. I’ll need to insist he gets a raise when we’re back home—if we still have a job.
“Nothing,” I rush out.
Joyce quickly adds, “There’s a press conference in a few minutes, and it’s probably something you should see in person instead of hearing it from a biased anchor.”
She leads the way to a conference room, where the press is already seated, cameras ready. Isaac is at the podium, eyes fixed on Livy. With all of this attention, I swear if this is how he proposes to my best friend, I’ll never forgive him. She deserves romance, not this.
“Thank you all for being here on short notice,” he begins. “We’ve had quite the week with a snowstorm, power outage, and of course, the summit itself. This morning, I’ve been made aware of a photo circulating online. It’s customary for communications teams to respond to inquiries with ‘no comment,’ but today, I’d like to personally address the speculation. Yes, the photo is real.”
This asshole. Yes, I would’ve instructed our team to answer any questions, but he’s acting as if we’ve been on the same page when all he told me was he had it “handled.”
“This is bullshit,” I grumble to myself. Olivia takes my hand and I squeeze it back tighter. “I’m sorry,” I whisper to her. “I didn’t know about this.” I glance over to her, and her cheeks are flushed. There are murmurs in the crowd, and I hate this for her. Isaac has two seconds to fix this before I personally storm the podium and take control of the narrative.
He continues, “I spent my entire adult life obsessed with a woman I couldn’t have. That ends now. I’m resigning as Prime Minister of Canada because I have my eye on another position—First Partner of California.”
Fuckity fuck, fuck, fuck.
There’s no coming back from this. Not only did he confirm the photo, which I could’ve spun as a one-time, heat-of-the-moment kiss, but now I have to deal with the fallout of Isaac resigning because he wants to marry Livy. How the hell would that work? He’s Canadian, so he’ll need to apply for citizenship, but now he’s out of a job, it’s not like he can get a work visa. Who would hire him? Does he expect Olivia to be his sugar mama? Not on my watch.
I’m about to march over to the entitled jerk when Olivia squeezes my hand tighter, keeping me in place as Isaac presses on, “There will be a transition team in place as soon as I’m back in office next week, and an interim leader will take my place during the appointment of my successor. I love my country, but I also love Olivia Harris. I always have and always will. I will not be opening the floor to questions, however, you may reach out to my media team for official statements.”
How the fuck is that having it handled? He basically crop-dusted the press, leaving his communications team and mine to pick up the pieces. I don’t have everyone here—just Tracy—and there’s too much to be done in the next twenty-four hours.
Olivia storms out, and before I follow, I politely excuse our departure to the Vice President, who is already typing frantically on her phone, waving me off. Isaac didn’t think this through; his retirement will have a snowball effect. At second glance, she’s smirking, as Finn whispers something to her. I can only hope he’s assuring her this won’t bite Ileah or President Taylor in the ass.
As I’m nearly out the door, Isaac leaving catches my attention. But it isn’t only Isaac, James is rushing after him. In all of this, my attention has been on Olivia, not the hot Canadian I’ve been indulging myself with this week. I should pat myself on the back for focusing on what matters—which isn’t my pussy.
In the mass exodus of press leaving the conference room in search of Olivia or Isaac for questions, I can’t find Livy. I try a few of the other rooms, but either the doors are locked or they’re empty. Down one of the hallways, there are hushed voices, and as I turn a corner, I find Isaac down on one knee. I only catch half of what they’re saying until I’m closer, but there was something about buying a ring for her and…
Fuck. Finn was right. Isaac just asked Olivia to marry him. I remain rooted in place, not wanting to ruin everything if she says yes. At least he waited until they were alone.
“On one condition,” she replies, and her eyes are glassy even from here.
His smile is wide as he asks, “And what’s that?”
“We do this right, have a long engagement, then save on wedding expenses and just elope.”
“Counter-offer: we elope tonight.”
My hand flies to my mouth to stifle my gasp. What is he thinking? They can’t just run off to Niagara Falls, or whatever, and get married.
“Counter-offer to your counter-offer,” she tuts, though I’m not surprised. My girl is an overthinker and never does anything impulsive—except maybe make out with the Prime Minister in a conference room where any world leader could walk in on them. “After thirty days of living with me, we elope. You need to see the chaos firsthand to know what you’re signing up for.”
“Whatever you want, babygirl.” Isaac kisses her knuckles, making Olivia blush.
“Okay, well, stand up before someone sees you.”
