Page 29 of Royal Bargain
I never answered it.
I open Ana’s thread instead, scroll past the last few sharp-edged exchanges. A picture of Lily tucked in a swaddle. One that Ana sent me without any caption. I hadn’t known what to say. Still don’t.
What the hell am I doing?
I’m in a room full of people cheering for me like I just saved the whole campaign. Like I belong here. Like I’m not in over my head. But then Burns talks like he’s already greased every wheel and slipped through every locked door, and I don’t even know what half the references mean.
And I laugh along anyway.
Because I can’t afford to look like the dumb one. The emotional one. The Brannagan screw-up.
I press my eyes shut for a second, breathing in the stale scent of burnt coffee and cheap disinfectant.
Get it together.
The door creaks open behind me.
“Figured I’d find you in here.”
I glance over my shoulder. It's Quinn, one of the campaign’s younger data analysts. Baby-faced, always a little twitchy, like he’s running numbers in his head even while he talks.
“Didn’t peg you for the hiding type,” he says, nudging the door shut behind him and crossing to the counter. He grabs a bottled water from the fridge like we’re old pals.
“Just needed a breather,” I mutter.
He chuckles. “Yeah, it’s a little intense out there. Someone just suggested that we make custom beer koozies with Burns’s face on them.” He grins like he thinks it’s hilarious.
I give a tight smile. “Guess that’s the mood tonight.”
Quinn leans against the opposite counter, popping the cap. “Still—hell of a thing, though. Seeing the numbers come in like that. You’ve made a real impact, Liam. People talk about you, y’know?”
“Is that right?”
“Yeah,” he says, almost too casually. “You’re in every conversation that matters. And whatever happened in Harborview? Genius, man. That move changed the whole board.”
My fingers stiffen around my phone. “That wasn’t me.”
Quinn shrugs. “Who cares, man? It was a genius move. I’d take credit if I were you, you know, before someone else does.”
I blink, wondering about that. Office politics always seemed so weird and foreign to me. Why would it matter who takes credit as long as the job gets done? But maybe that’s the point. Maybe the gameisabout who gets the credit.
Quinn takes a long slug of his water and gives me an awkward little salute before heading for the door. “Okay, well. See you out there.”
The door shuts with a soft click.
I stare down at my phone, the glow of the screen still lighting up Rory’s old message.
Prove yourself right.
Then my phone buzzes.
Ana: Can you come home right now? Please. I need you.
My stomach drops.
No explanation. No follow-up. Just those words.
I need you.
