Page 85 of Protecting Bianca

“Bianca,” Jeremy called, holding his phone. “It’s the New Yorker. They want to send over a reporter.”

“What?”

“Since they can’t make it tomorrow, they want to interview Towers today. They can meet us at our office in thirty minutes.”

“But we don’t know who is doing the interview and we haven’t cleared them with security.”

“Do you really want to miss an interview with the New Yorker?”

My hands tightened on my hips. No, I didn’t. But I didn’t want to sidestep security, either.

“Who will be interviewing Mr. Towers?”

Jeremy checked his phone. “The journalist’s name is Imani Adebayo.”

“Okay. I’ll send it over to Jager right away—Shit. I don’t have my phone. Jeremy, can you send it to Jager? This is his cell number.” I gave him the number. “Tell him what’s happening, and that it is very important we move forward with this interview. He can be present if he wishes. Actually, I should be there, too. In case Mr. Towers needs me.”

“I can drive you back to the office.”

I stared at Jeremy. I didn’t want to get into a car alone with him, but was I overreacting? No. I would listen to my gut on this. “You should stay here and help the team finish up. I’ll just call a cab.”

Jeremy stared back. He couldn’t hide the anger rising in his cheeks. I didn’t care, though. He shouldn’t have taken those photos.

“I can take you back,” said Mr. Walsh. “I’m heading there now, if you’re ready.”

I looked out the window. Traffic was building downtown and would be at a standstill in a few minutes. “Thank you. I just need to grab my coat.”

I grabbed it on my way out the door.

“My car’s parked with the valet. It will only take a minute.”

Mr. Walsh had left that part out when he offered the ride, but I waited quietly next to him as he handed his ticket to the man at the desk outside of the hotel.

I pulled my collar up and clasped it together at the neck. “It sure is getting cold,” I said, rocking on my feet. I didn’t wear boots today, just flats.

“Here’s my car.”

A black sedan pulled up in front of us, and the valet hopped out. I opened the passenger door and climbed inside. Fortunately, Mr. Walsh turned on the heat immediately.

I sat back, blowing hot air into my hands and then rubbing them along my thighs.

As expected, traffic moved slowly, and I looked out the window at the tall buildings on either side of us. I loved working in the city, but I never imagined living here. I was glad I was looking at places outside of Manhattan. It wasn’t just about affordability.

“Bianca, there is something you should know.”

I turned toward him. His face was serene, as though he was describing the weather. “Oh, what’s that?” I asked.

“The company isn’t going in the direction I think it should be moving, and I’d like to make some changes.”

“What sort of changes?”

Despite his even tone, my heart started beating quickly, and I wondered if Mr. Walsh had the authority to fire me. We hadn’t had many meetings together as I reported directly to Towers.

“The company and its day-to-day business will remain the same. The changes will only affect a couple of people.”

“Which people?”

He turned his head to the left to check oncoming traffic before turning right.

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