Page 311 of The Christmas Wife

"All the more reason that I be there."

"But—"

"No buts. You stay where you are and?—"

"No, you listen to me. I’m the PR professional here?—"

"And you’re my?—"

"My—?" She narrows her gaze. There’s something like a dare in her voice.

"You’re my everything, Zara. Whatever we have to do, we’ll face it together."

Her face crumples. A tear slides down her cheek.

My heart stutters. "No, don’t cry, baby. I promise, we’ll come out of this."

She sniffs. "I know. I’m the PR professional here, remember?"

"It’s okay to lean on me, baby."

She brushes away her tears. "Are you coming here, or are you going to waste time talking to me on the phone?"

I chuckle. "I’m on my way."

"Are you and Zara Chopra together, Minister?"

"What impact will this have on your candidacy?"

"Are you and Ms. Chopra getting married?"

"Minister, how long have you been seeing each other?"

The questions come thick and fast as I shoulder my way through the throngs of reporters. Just as I reach the main door of the apartment building, it slides open. Zara must have been tracking me from upstairs. I take the steps two at a time, then walk down the corridor to her apartment. Before I can press the doorbell, the door swings open.

"Hey." I peruse her features.

"Hey."

I follow her into the apartment; the door snicks shut behind me. She walks to the window and peers through the crack between the drapes. "There’s more of them there than there were a few minutes ago."

"How are you holding up?"

She turns to face me. "I expected something like this to happen, just not so quickly."

I take in her pale features. "You look peaked."

"I’m fine," she says and slashes her hand through the air. "We’re going to deny it, of course."

"Excuse me?"

She begins to pace. "We’ll deny that there’s anything going on between us."

"The picture suggests otherwise," I say gently.

"We could say we’re friends."

"You’re rubbing off a dab of something from the corner of my mouth. It’s an intimate picture."

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