Page 78 of Power Term

Their shouted questions finally reach my ears.

“When’s the wedding?”

“Where will it be?’

“Will you invite the Russians?”

What is their deal with the Russians?I roll my eyes at the last question and wave a hand, dismissing them all without a single reply.

“They’re all yours,” I say to Sam, patting his shoulder with the hand that’s not interlaced with Trey’s. “Go win us some votes.”

“Should I show my tats too?”

I look him up and down, considering the idea. “Couldn’t hurt, but I’d be worried about most of the women in America showing up on your doorstep.” He laughs, humor alight in his green eyes. “Let’s talk strategy for the campaign tomorrow. See ya.”

Stepping through the side door, I wait until it’s closed and the noise diminished before leaning against the wall to catch my breath.

Varying emotions battle within me as the gravity of what I just revealed to the world settles.

“Oh shit,” I curse under my breath. Slipping out of my shoes, I step forward to race down the hall.

“What?” Trey’s hand tightens around mine, holding me back. “What’s wrong?”

The four agents around me draw their guns. Keeping the barrels pointed to the ground, they form a brick wall around me.

Leveraging one of my thin shoulders between two agents, I force them apart and take off down the hall, this time without Trey’s restraint.

“I just told the whole world about our engagement and totally forgot to tell Tae!” I shout over my shoulder.

Trey’s boisterous laugh chases me down the hall. “Good luck with that.”

As I jog through the maze of hallways, I say a prayer to the unicorn gods that she wasn’t watching the press conference. At her door, I slump forward, slamming the heel of my hand against it, making it rattle under my weight to keep me upright. Breathing ragged, I curl an arm around my sore ribs, hoping cradling my waist will relieve the ache.

But then the door swings open.

“Shit.” Unable to catch myself, I stumble forward, crashing into Taeler. Her own curse slips out as we tumble to the ground. The lamp beside the bed shakes and the picture frames along the wall shift with the impact of both our bodies slamming to the ground.

Groaning, I roll to my back and stare at the ceiling.

“Fuck, Mom,” she cries.

“Language,” I hiss back.

“You just tackled me for no good reason and you’re—”

“I said yes.” Now my racing heart is from trepidation, not exertion or free-falling to the floor. The carpet flattens under my head as I roll it to the side. “He asked, and I said yes.”

“You told me that. You said the night you were kidnapped he asked you and you said yes, so why the hell did you assault me?”

“I didn’t assault you. You opened the door—”

“My bedroom door when someone knocked.”

“The door I was using as support because I raced over here from the press room because I forgot to tell you before the press conference.”

“Tell me what?”

I raise my left hand into the air and hold it between us. Tae’s eyes go wide when they latch on to the sparkling diamond decorating my finger.

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