Page 64 of Power Games

"How are you holding up, buddy?" Callum King asked, taking him to the side.

"Better than expected, strangely."

"So I've seen. I don't think anyone has ever recovered from a scandal quite as gracefully."

He glanced at the woman who'd purposely stayed away from him through the whole procession.

"She's...something."

"Apparently so. Are you going to run, then?" he asked in a lower voice.

Charles nodded. "I think so, yes. Crazy as it sounds."

"No one paying attention would call it crazy, Charles. The funds are there when you need them. We raised them in just one auction, and some members complained that they were unable to attend. We can set up another one if you need more."

Charles shook his head. "It's not money I need."

Callum nodded. "It's support. From powerful men, women, families. Desmond and I spoke. He couldn’t make it, Ryn can’t fly right now, but he’ll call after the baby is born. He’s in; he’ll run as your VP. We all are with you. My brothers and I, most of us at The Tower, some friends around New York. You have the state."

From anyone else, that assertion would have seemed bold, but it came from Callum King. So, he had New York.

"One down, just a dozen to go, at least. Plus the electoral college."

Cal winced. "Yes, that. The popular vote isn't your main concern. You want my advice?"

"Always," Charles started.

"Talk to your girl's father."

Ah. Him.

He'd avoided it so far, hadn't so much as mentioned Theodore McNamara.

Charles had taken his time and thought through the mess since his wife's murder, and he'd come to one conclusion: she'd been killed by a lover. After he'd left, she'd called whoever she was seeing and given him the good news: that she was free, that they could go public, that she could marry him soon.

The guy hadn't been happy about it. He could imagine Izzy being stupid and naive enough to say the wrong thing. Dangerous things such as, "I'll tell."

Charles didn't know the full list of her previous lovers, but the ex-president certainly counted among those who would have had a reason to want her to keep quiet.

He didn't want to see any of them; not Theodore, not Tristan, none of the other men who could have killed Izzy. He didn't know what he'd do or say to them at this point. The likelihood of Theodore McNamara dirtying his hands like that was pretty low—he realized that. Still, until Knightley got back to him with some sort of answer, he needed to stay away.

Theodore had attended the funeral, and he'd shaken his hand, offered his condolences. Charles had nodded. For now, that was all he could take.

"I will," he said tightly.

Charles thanked Callum for attending, and they parted ways. He'd just spotted Nathaniel Kingsley at the back of the room.

Evading as many guests as he could, remaining curt with the rest, he headed toward the man he'd been looking forward to seeing for days.

The very first day, Nathaniel had said that they wouldn't speak about the details of the investigation over the phone.

"I'll personally come to you, or send one of my right hands. This is too sensitive."

Nate had left it at that, but when he'd flown out to meet Charles two weeks ago, he'd said that the police was probably still observing him.

"They don't have a suspect and you're on their radar. Find something relevant? They'll do their best to pin it on you so they can close the case. But I'll be in touch."

Nate hadn't planned to attend the funeral, but he'd RSVPed just this morning, at the last minute.

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