Page 72 of Not the Bodyguard's Princess
“A hotel meeting room or ballroom. Usually, both have multiple access points. Possibly a stage area. I’m looking in Dermot’s files to see if they have ever worked a venue here. I asked Alan to check Hastings.”
Blake’s and Mrs. Lee’s bodyguards appeared to be doing the same thing.
Andrew kept an eye on the office. Neither Jordan nor her grandmother seemed emotional as they made phone calls. The bodyguards shared information and narrowed the list of venues down to two possibilities.
Claire Lee came out, followed by Jordan. “The syndicated news outlets all want us in their affiliate studios. I’ve told them that won’t work.” She turned to her head of security. “Have you found a suitable location?”
“We found two locations. The first is at the Hotel Northland downtown. The second—”
Mrs. Lee held up her hand. “Just set up the one you prefer. I don’t want to have to make a choice.”
“Hotel Northland. Built in the 1920s and recently renovated. The ballroom is not being used until a wedding tomorrow afternoon. The planner I spoke with said they have the chairs set up, which will work for a press conference. They can either bring in a podium or have headset microphones, if you prefer.”
Jordan and her grandmother shared a look, then Jordan spoke. “I have an idea for trying to make it look homey. Can they bring in two chairs, wing-back if possible, and a small table with flowers? And we’ll use the headset mics.”
Blake was on his phone before Jordan finished her description.
“We also need to change clothes. How can we do that without having the media on our heels?”
Deidre stood. “I can book you a suite at the hotel. Your driver is at the condo and can meet us at the hotel with what you need.”
“I’ll call Maria. She can meet us there for hair and makeup. Grandma might not need it, but my nerves have me shaking, and I don’t want to poke my eye out with a mascara wand.” Jordan’s laugh was too high-pitched to not be forced.
There was mild laughter around the room.
“Let’s get this done.” Claire marched to the garage as the bodyguards, including Andrew, scrambled to keep up.
* * *
The one-way window allowed Jordan a view into the ballroom. The hotel’s event planner had arranged two stately upholstered chairs in the front corner. An old-fashioned floor lamp and a huge potted plant helped complete the cozy setting. In the audience area, the press jockeyed for position. Jordan took a deep breath. “Ready, Grandma?”
“One moment. I told Blake to get Andrew up here. He can escort us out, then stand to the side. Not only does it put a bodyguard in between us and the cameras, it adds another layer to the boyfriend story.
Andrew came through a service door adjusting his tie. Besides handsome, he looked intimidating in a Secret Service way.
Jordan reached up and straightened the tie. “If I knew you looked this good in a suit, I would have had you wear one on the job.”
Andrew raised a brow.
“Stop flirting, you two.” Grandma shook her head. “Andrew, give me your arm. It suits me to look every second of my eighty-five years this afternoon and appear to need help. The press is not as calm as I would like.”
Jordan followed them through the service door into the ballroom. Like her grandmother, Jordan sat on the edge of her chair, back straight, facing the center camera. Grandma recited the prepared press statement in a conversational tone, reiterating the tone of the statements given over the years. Jordan concluded with her heartfelt lines. “As always, we wish to remember the families and loved ones of this tragedy and others around the world. Everyone experiences loss. Let us all be kinder to one another.”
As soon as the prepared statement had ended, the press showered the two women with questions. Grandma and Jordan held up their hands, simultaneously quieting the press.
“We will entertain a few questions as long as you can respect the solemnity of this moment,” said Grandma.
The reporters quieted and raised their hands. Grandma, acting every bit the queen, gestured to one of them.”
“Will you hold a special memorial service?”
As planned, Jordan answered the predictable question. “The annual private commemoration for the immediate families will be held for the last time this spring. Memorial services for my parents were held years ago. We will not be repeating them.”
The consequent smattering of questions was easily answered by referring the press back to the statement or authorities working on the plane’s recovery.
Grandma nodded at Andrew to escort them off stage. As they crossed the room, a bold reporter shouted, “Miss Lee, is he really your boyfriend or a cover so you can date Storm Tordon in secret?”
Jordan kept walking, knowing that any answer she gave them would be overanalyzed. What idiot imagined she would ever date Storm?
