Page 54 of Perfect Sin
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We’reboth startled out of sleep the next morning by loud banging on the door. There’s still several hours until we’re supposed to meet Damien for brunch.
“I’ve got it,” Ford shouts from somewhere in the main part of the suite.
Muffled voices filter through the thick door moments before it swings open. Damien lets himself in and grabs the remote to the television off of the nightstand.
“Don’t you have your own tv?” I snap.
He glares at me and proceeds to turn on the news. “Your little detour last night has had consequences.”
Arthur Whitmore stands at a podium preparing to start a press conference.
“My insider with his campaign gave me a heads up that he was going to be speaking this morning. What did you and Lucien do last night?” Damien demands.
“Paid him a little visit for a chat. Were we supposed to let him try and abduct your daughter without responding?”
“It’s called politics, Sin. We can’t conduct business as usual,” Damien says condescendingly.
“You’re hardly playing by the rules. How do you have someone inside his campaign?”
He glances at me out of the side of his eye. “Everyone has a price.”
I point to the television. “Does anyone in that room have a price?”
“What are you thinking?”
“Feed them some questions. Let’s see how well Arthur adapts.”
Damien pulls up a contact from his address book and hands me his phone. I open a text to them and fire off some tips to lead the reporter’s questions.
Arthur leans forward, signaling he’s ready to start his conference. “Last night my wife and I were assaulted in our home. Two men broke into the house, restrained us, and held us at gunpoint. I want to deliver a message to those men. I will not back down from doing what’s right, and certainly will not be bowing out of this election.”
“Governor Whitmore, is it true it was your son who broke into your home last night?” the reporter I texted asks.
Arthur’s eyes bug out. “Where did you get that information?”
“Can you please just answer the question?” he pushes.
“It’s a ridiculous question. Why would my son break into his own home?” he tries to evade.
Damien smirks. “You never cease to impress me. Let me try,” he says and holds his hand out for his phone.
He pulls up another name and sends a text. One of the reporters pulls out his phone and asks the next question. “In interviews you’ve maintained your son was forced into his marriage with Damien Blackthorne’s daughter, yet they were together just last night at a fundraiser for Blackthorne looking quite cozy.”
Arthur looks rattled, and the reporters latch on to the direction the two journalists we’ve tipped off are leading the questions. “What evidence do you have that your son was forced to marry Ms. Blackthorne?”
He clenches the podium, and his face begins to turn an unhealthy shade of purple. “Isn’t it obvious? My son conveniently turns up after being missing for nearly two decades, married to my political rival’s daughter.”
“With all due respect, Governor, none of those are facts, only your conjecture,” the reporter says.
Howard Morris’ voice booms over the others. “Is it true that you sent your godson after Mrs. Sinclair to force her to sign annulment papers?”
“Where are you getting this information?” Arthur demands.
“A confidential source within the FBI told me only this morning that you were a person of interest in a conspiracy to abduct Mrs. Sinclair,” Howard responds.
The room breaks out into a frenzy of reporters shouting questions over each other. Arthur stares at the chaos, seeming unable to turn the tone of the press conference back towards the narrative he wanted to push. His press secretary comes and urges him away from the microphone.