Page 4 of Something Just Like This

Definitely dangerous.

She’d get a cat this week.

three

City Hall was a massive brick building that was the oldest in the United States, and one of the largest government structures in the world. Besides the mayoral office, it housed the New York Council and thirteen municipal agencies under Jonathan’s direction. The historical significance struck him hard every time he went to work, reminding him of his responsibilities to the people, and the humbling achievement of a dream he’d set long ago with his wife by his side.

Of course, he’d never imagined he’d be alone once he arrived at City Hall.

He’d also never envisioned the isolation and loneliness he’d feel amidst the masses of people who consistently surrounded him. From reporters, drivers, bodyguards, and endless staff, there was no such thing as privacy or alone time. When he was working toward becoming mayor, he’d buried his grief in the drive to win and nearly lost the man he’d once been with his wife and daughter. Now he’d learned to become more human, but with that came a touch of vulnerability and a slight resentment of the constant pressure and fishbowl lifestyle he’d once been thrilled to take on.

Crap, he was getting old.

He smothered an indulgent sigh as the car pulled up to the curb. It’d been a few weeks since he’d made the announcement, and he’d been running nonstop on the hamster wheel ever since. He gazed out the tinted windows at the rain-slicked pavement. Late fall in the city was a tricky thing. It was different from the beauty of the Hudson Valley a scant two hours away. New Yorkers faced seasonal changes like stoic soldiers going into battle—flicking up the collars on their fashionable coats to brave the wind, and donning designer boots to stomp through puddles with sheer determination, refusing to be late to the next event on their schedule. Between the temperamental weather, endless leaves blocking up the sewers, and the scurry to build up enough supplies to protect the roads during the long winter, Jonathan had always preferred the silent, sticky summers instead. Still, a long walk in Central Park reminded him that crisp air, burnt-orange stately trees, and the golden light that poured from the sky needed to be appreciated before the craze of the holiday season descended. “Thanks, Tim. I heard it was your anniversary. How many years?”

The older man lit up. “I can’t believe you remembered, sir. Thirty-five, and feels like just yesterday. She wants to renew our vows in Vegas with Elvis at our side.”

He laughed. “Do it. Nothing like the King for pure romance superpower.” He pressed a card into the man’s hand. “Here’s something for both of you. Go out to a nice dinner.”

His long-term driver jerked back. “Sir, you didn’t have to. Thank you.”

“Welcome. See you in a few.”

He nodded and hurried into the building, ducking his head against the wind. He’d have to double-check on the weather report. Hurricane season still threatened, and he had to be careful about any impending trouble. God knew the state was still in disarray from Sandy, and that had been years ago.

“Mr. Mayor? May I have a word?”

He glanced over but didn’t stop walking—every second was accounted for. “Ms. Delaney, to what do I owe the pleasure? Surely you don’t need another colorful quote regarding my stance on school vaccinations or free lunches? I’ve been quite clear.”

She fell in step beside him. “Crystal, Mr. Mayor. I’m more curious about your new beef with the police commissioner. Sources tell me you’re at odds with his decision to protect a few good cops nearing retirement for some menial sins. Is everyone’s pension at risk, or just Andrew Billings’?”

Ah, fuck. Diana Delaney was a reporter he’d initially despised, then resented, and, most recently, reluctantly admired. He hated the rag she worked for, but she’d proven to be endlessly stubborn in securing a comment and getting it right. He knew she was in the trenches and fiercely ambitious, so the respect came after she’d proven that she was above lying or tweaking the truth for good copy. He might not agree with her spins, but he believed in freedom of the press and all that came with it. The real problem was her damn sources and how they leaked gossip he wanted to keep a lid on.

He gave an easy laugh, though he knew she wouldn’t be fooled. “The commissioner and I do not have a beef, we were merely behind locked doors for a discussion. I agree and support him wholeheartedly on his decision to do a thorough investigation but keep Mr. Billings active.”

“Even though you vowed to get the dirty cops off the street?” she asked shrewdly. She was petite but packed a punch with her wildly curly hair, trim figure, and dark eyes that always held a shark-like intensity.

He treated her to a full glance, his gloved hand gripping the door handle. “Internal affairs will do their job, and if Billings is deemed culpable, the commissioner and I will handle it together.”

“By pressing charges?”

His smile faded. His previous job as the district attorney was a slippery slope. He’d been able to view things blacker and whiter in that position. But mayor? Yeah, he’d learned early on there were many shades of gray, and it had nothing to do with a good romance novel.

“Yes, if necessary, we will most definitely prosecute. Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He shut the door as politely as possible and hurried to his corner of the world, greeting people as he walked, his mind furiously going over the implications of his push/pull with the head of police and the million other problems buzzing around in his head like angry bees.

He got stopped a few more times before he finally made it to his inner sanctum. Alyssa followed him in as he threw his briefcase on the littered table. “You have thirty minutes before your next meeting,” she said crisply, opening his closet and displaying a few freshly pressed white shirts and jackets she always kept on hand. “I have the new agenda for the town hall meeting ready for approval. Here are your messages.”

He already knew they were ranked by most shit-worthy, and she took care of everything else. He quickly sifted through them, re-arranging meetings and addressing hot buttons of concern as he tore off his damp, wrinkled jacket before deciding that his shirt should go, too. Alyssa kept battering commands and questions at him, her back politely turned as usual.

“Thanks for the head’s up on Tim’s anniversary,” he managed to interrupt. “How do you know all this stuff?”

“It’s my job. Keeping a schedule is simple. Most people enjoy sharing dates of joy.” As usual, she brushed off any type of compliment he tried to give her. He’d learned early on that her sense of accomplishment came from her own high standards and not anyone else’s. She rattled on. “Mia said the Billings story has the potential to blow. I scheduled a call for her to go over the details so she can direct the social media campaign in the right direction.”

“Yeah, well, Delaney torpedoed me on my way in. Seems she knows I had words with the commissioner about this. I don’t know why he wants to protect Billings so hard. There’s been soft proof floating around a while, and it’s time I nail the guy and make him an example. For God’s sake, there’s enough dirt and drugs in my city without my police force contributing.” The NYPD was stellar, and he was damn proud of their amazing accomplishments. He supported them, cheered them, and tried to protect most of them from the crap people who wanted to use or exploit them for political agendas. But Billings was just bad news—the exception rather than the rule. He needed to take care of it.

Her gaze swung around, almond eyes wide behind her glasses. “How’d Diana find out? She got a mole on the inside finally?”