Page 107 of The Rebel King

“Why didn’t you tell us you were auditioning first ladies, Maxim?” Polly asks teasingly.

Everyone freezes, and then all eyes are on me.

Eight of us are spread across two booths on the bus, laptops, iPads, phones, and stacks of papers littering the surfaces.

“Excuse me?” I quirk a curious brow. “I’m not, as far as I know.”

I sneak a look at Lennix, whose face reflects my confusion.

“According toPage Six,” Polly says, showing us an article pulled up on her phone, “you may be just days away from the altar, and America might have its next first lady.”

I roll my eyes. “Fake news.”

Polly scrolls down the screen, and a few pictures pop up. All heads on that side of the table tilt in one accord to peer at the screen, including Lennix’s. She and Kimba exchange a quick, unreadable look.

“Excuse me, guys,” Lennix says. “I need to go read this policy paper.”

She stands and walks to the back of the bus. Polly looks after her and shrugs, turning back to thefascinatingpiece on my potential forthcoming nuptials.

“Could I at least meet my bride?” I ask, holding my hand out for the phone. Polly laughs and hands it over.

Shit.

It was all innocent, but these photos of Salina and me make things look intimate andarranged. The two of us deboarding the Cade Energy plane. Photos some kind parent at the party innocently posted to Instagram from the birthday party. Salina and me smiling, standing side by side, our faces lit by the glow of birthday candles. Us sitting beside each other during dinner on the patio. I thought nothing of any of it at the time, but we present the perfect picture of a courting couple.

America’s Next Camelot?the headline blares, and the sensational speculation that follows only gets worse.

Maxim Cade isn’t the only candidate. Salina Pérez may be mounting a campaign of her own. Maxim for president. Salina for…first lady? Does she get your vote? A young, beautiful couple in the White House! First babies! We are here for it!

If my father leaked this…

Right on time, my phone buzzes with a notification.

Dad: I didn’t do this. Just some reporter piecing shit together and speculating. Trying to take advantage of a slow news cycle.

Me: Why should I believe you?

Dad: If I did it, I would tell you. I’m not scared of you, boy.

Typical.

When I glance up from my phone, Kimba is staring a hole in my head. I lift my brows into the shape ofwhat?

She tips her head toward the back of the bus.

Lennix has played it safe since the Glenn incident, barely looking at me the past few days.

“I need to ask Lennix something about this speech for Detroit,” I tell the team at the table with a quick smile. “Be right back.”

I set off down the long aisle. On the bright side, I get to be alonewith my girl for the first time in days, even if it’s in the back of a crowded bus. She’s in the very last row, knees up against the seat in front of her.

“This seat taken?” I ask, nodding to the empty space beside her.

“Yeah.” She scoots into the spot. “It is.”

I move her slight weight over so I can sit.

“Could you nottouchme in public?” she whispers. “We had a close call. We’re lucky Glenn hasn’t blabbered to the press.”

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