Page 75 of Mountain Security

She sighed as she stepped onto the stage beside Pierre, grateful that everyone in the team, from the interns up, had stepped up to the plate to help manage things. She couldn’t have done it without him.

Looking his best in a navy blue suit and tie, Pierre followed the plan they’d outlined together. He apologized for the way the news had broken, but not for the affair itself, which he referred to as a private subject, to be kept separate from his public engagements and from the campaign.

Yvette looked down at her watch and breathed a small sigh of relief. Three minutes of speech left, then she’d be taking the floor to allow a few questions. If things got ugly, she’d call the meeting to a close.

Then the door opened and Vivienne stepped into the room, somehow managing to look both warm and regal in a tailored cream-colored dress with black accents.

Everything and everyone stopped—and then Pierre stepped off the stage.

Shit.

What the hell is he doing?

Pierre didn’t go very far. He stopped in front of his wife and took her hands in his. He leaned forward, whispering something in her ear, then bowed low, bringing his lips to the back of her hand.

Tears came to Vivienne’s eyes. One rolled down each cheek.

Yvette, too, felt tears prickling at the back of her eyes and blinked them away quickly, but she shouldn’t have bothered. Soon, there wasn’t a dry eye left in the house, as journalists, guests and staff members all dabbed at their eyes with whatever they had on them, all of them aware of having witnessed a most private moment.

Eventually, Vivienne’s chin flicked downwards. Just the smallest of nods. Flashes erupted around them, everyone wanting to catch the moment.

Shit.

If they’d tried to stage this most public reconciliation, they would have failed most magnificently.

But it’d happened.

And, just like that, Yvette’s career climbed out of the drain. Suddenly, Pierre’s next term as mayor, and his potential future as a minister at the Elysium, in Paris, were suddenly options again. And Yvette would be right there with him.

Yvette had never wanted to be mayor. She was a great chief of staff and loved her job. Planning and execution was what she did well, and she was happy to leave the baby kissing to Pierre.

Vivienne stepped up on the stage with her husband. Yvette fielded a couple of questions, which were much kinder in tone and content than she had been expecting.

Nobody wanted to be responsible for offending Vivienne, or be the one to break this fragile peace that had just been extended.

Yvette stood aside, marveling at the unexpected development. She’d gone into the hotel half-wondering if she’d have a career by the time they were done here this afternoon. And, instead, here she was, fielding tactful questions about their plans for the next four years.

When the questions were done, she watched Pierre lead his wife away.

And then, when she looked up next, Alex was there. His reddish brown hair was mussed, he was still wearing his ski suit, and he looked like he’d been dragged through a meat grinder. But he was smiling.

“Did you find the boy?” Yvette asked.

“He’s at the hospital. He’s going to be okay.”

“Areyouokay?” she asked.

In response, Alex lowered his head and kissed her. A small part of her jerked back—she’d never kissed a man in public, and certainly not in a room full of journalists. She silenced that voice quickly and pulled Alex in closer, opening her mouth to let him in.

Alex moaned into her mouth.

“Yvette.”

“Alex,” she breathed.

The pleasure was overwhelming. She never wanted to break this kiss. Then his stomach rumbled loudly.

Alex laughed, apologized, then tried to kiss her again.

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