Page 21 of Escalating Alpha

“You do seem exhausted, and we’ll get back to what you said,” she promised. “But people are going to ask how this happened and if you’re holding the parties responsible.”

I sighed and rubbed under my eyes. “No one was lax or a jerk. It’s unfortunate, but crap happens.” I twirled my fingers to say back up. “I took my shots in between the actual lingerie shoot. I made it clear to the photographer that these weren’t for the catalog or anything—only personal. Also, not for his portfolio and don’t put them on the damn cloud.”

“Which clearly he did,” she sighed.

“No, he didn’t,” I corrected. “And IthinkI said in passing to delete them after I got copies. Maybe?” I sighed this time. “Honestly, so much has happened since. I was abducted. I almost died—a lot. But that was the real mix-up. My shots weren’t priority and I just sent ones taken with my phone. So I was supposed to get my set later and then they would be deleted.”

“Except you got abducted,” she muttered.

I nodded, crossing my arms over my chest. “Except I got abducted. And of course they’re not deleting them then or… Dropping them off to my lover or husband when I’m missing? Yeah, that’s callous. But I mostly forgot. And they certainly did. My pictures weren’t on the cloud. My pictures were on their system in their studio that’s all locked up.

“It’s backed up to a ridiculously secure server—it’s the same company that some intelligence agencies use for quick drops. It’s secure. And those files are fine. The photographer did a massive fashion campaign and someone broke into their studio and trashed everything trying to get those photos and steal designs. My photos were unfortunate fallout.”

“Oh dear. And they got them?”

“No, luckily, they didn’t, and by random chance they hadn’t been uploaded to the in-office drives yet, only the two laptops from the shoot and the backup server. Which is probably why they focused on me and getting something from the job.” Irolled my eyes. “Like ten million dollars and who cares about blackmailing a division chief of the FBI, right?”

“That’s… How is that not the worst thing that’s happened to you today?” she whispered.

Now it was time to put on a really good performance.

Good thing I had years of acting and undercover work under my belt to pull it off.

6

“I’ll explain, but I think you’re actually showing the photos?” I checked with her and Dain. “Someone gave you a selection of what could be released?” I shrugged when she seemed confused. “I came right here from work. I have crimes to solve, not unlimited time to care about who sees my arse.”

“Not all of us are as gorgeous as you are or as confident,” she praised.

“Oh, the confidence is a new thing,” I chuckled darkly. “Actually, it was a singer who helped me. She said her therapist told her to spend five minutes naked in the mirror. And it was crazy for her. All she saw was flaws and what was wrong with her and it was impossible to do the first time.”

“Yes, I’ve heard this. I know who and what you’re talking about. But over time it got easier and she started seeing the stretchmarks that gave her the son she loved so much. And the extra curves her husband praised. It was a journey.”

“It is. I used to think I was too heavy as a human—athletic but overweight. Now I look at pictures and just get upset that I was ever so mean to myself. We really are so awful to ourselves.” I snorted. “Or people are overinflated and full of themselves. There never seems to be a middle ground.”

“No, unfortunately not.” The first few pictures came up. “I could see these on Instagram.”

“That’s what several have said,” I agreed. “I really don’t use social media, but I wish I could play on Instagram to see more of the food of Chicago. Sometimes people send me links or screenshots and—a Sunday off for just looking and making a list of places to try sounds like heaven.”

“I do it in New York now and again and it is fun,” she admitted and then laughed. “Look at that cute smile. Are you blushing? You?”

I snorted. “I blush too often to be cool or as confident as people think.” I smiled then. “I haven’t seen these yet. Just the ones I took with my phone and sent.” I pointed to the one all the way on the left she was talking about. “I got stuck. I almost fell off the table because the heel was in the thong—sometimes I’m not a very graceful werewolf. People were nicely teasing me.”

She commented a bit more and we showed about twenty, a few having to blur this or that, but really not much since it was all allure and hints of more. “I’m sorry, Sera. You didn’t deserve this—being forced to have to show something private so someone else doesn’t do it is very violating.”

I thought about that and kept bobbing my head as I stared at the last group. “I think that’s what my colleagues were most worried about. That I couldn’t take being backed into another corner or something else bad happening to me.” I twisted my hand and met her worried gaze. “Or the fallout of this. Not for the FBI, but… We know what certain people will say.”

“Unfortunately. The situation is getting bad and—”

“We’re already there,” I whispered. “Someone took a hit out on me and my son.”

Everyone in the studio went silent, the tension in the large room enough to make my wolf want to squirm.

“You’re sure?” Summer asked when she recovered enough.

I nodded. “And the timing of it—I know this will give the First Lady more fuel of why I’m evil and whatever else, but—people listen when she speaks. Unfortunately.”

“She’s the reason?”

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