Page 51 of Shadowed Agenda
“Ms. Christenson, the photographs of your daughter on the Internet are absolutely adorable,” the woman cooed, a microphone thrust out in front of her. “How have you managed to keep Emmeline hidden away this long?”
Regan would have crumbled if Pavlo hadn’t wrapped an arm around her waist. The surrounding media personnel and celebrities blurred out of focus. The only thing she could see was the grandmotherly face of the reporter.
Regan had known she couldn’t keep Emmeline hidden forever. The words she had memorized when her books gained popularity flowed off her lips. “Like many celebrities, I’d like to give my daughter a normal childhood instead of being constantly monitored by reporters.”
“Who is the father of your little cutie?” The reporter asked, a friendly smile across her face. The words and the smile were a carefully cultivated persona—the grandmother everyone wished they had. Someone you could confide in. The woman was good.
The reporter raised an eyebrow and tilted her head in Pavlo’s direction. Regan’s surroundings came back into focus as she stifled her laughter. The reporter thought Pavlo was Emmeline’s father. She must have been on vacation when the tabloids ran the articles on their disastrous first book talk together.
“You’ll have to check out Finlay Giammarino’s exclusive interview with me for that answer,” Regan said, disappointing the woman. Pavlo steered her down the red carpet into the theater, his arm around her waist keeping her grounded. They ignored the other reporters who called out to her. Finlay and Drake stood beside a wall in the lobby, waiting for them.
“Someone put pictures of Emmeline on the Internet,” Regan said. She could hear her voice quiver. “A reporter just asked me about her. I told her to check your exclusive interview.”
“We all knew it was only a matter of time before someone unearthed the information.” Finlay placed her hand on Regan’s arm. “We can control your responses to their questions and give them only as much as you want to share. You can be stingy. We can’t control what other people will say. Theywillask others to comment. You can respond, ignore, or pass them on to your PR consultant.”
“I don’t have a PR consultant,” Regan whispered. She was slowly becoming overwhelmed with everything that was being thrown at her.
“Don’t worry about it. We’ll discuss it later,” Finlay said. “First, let me do some damage control.”
“You seemed to have an answer ready for the reporter,” Pavlo said, smiling. “It was quite impressive. The woman was certain she was catching you off guard.”
“I… uh… memorized a few things a few years ago, so I wouldn’t be broadsided if someone found out about Emmeline,” Regan said, feeling rather foolish.
“That’s smart thinking,” Finlay said and grinned. “So, rattle off a few more of these memorized responses so I can post something on a few sites. We take control of this.”
“I named her Emmeline after her great-grandmother. We’d been close.” Regan ran through the list she’d prepared. “She’s two years old and small for her age. I’m raising Emmeline on my own. It was an amicable divorce.”
“We’ll leave the raising Emmeline on your own and amicable divorce out,” Finlay said, tossing her brunette hair over her shoulder and placing her dressy crossbody bag over her shoulder. “With what’s going on with Nicholas, it’s best not mentioned. There’s enough for me to fly with. We’ll sit down later and decide what you want to tell the public and your fans.”
Regan drew a deep breath and glanced around the theater. Isla’s eye caught hers, and then her publicist quickly turned away. She had found out through one of Finlay’s social media posts that Regan was doing the private book signing. Regan wouldn’t put it past Isla to have leaked the photographs of Emmeline to be vindictive. She was seeing a side to Isla she’d never seen during their supposed friendship.
Nicholas wouldn’t be happy. Attention on Emmeline would disrupt his plan to remarry Regan before anyone found out they’d divorced. She wouldn’t put it past him to squeeze a wedding into the hectic schedule Isla had set for tomorrow. It would look better. No one could accuse him of remarrying her to cover up the divorce.
“I’ll be right back,” Finlay said, and Drake wrapped his fingers around her arm before she could move.
“Where are you going?” he asked. It was only the second time he’d spoken since they’d left the hotel.
“To the women’s restroom,” she said, her forehead lifting in surprise. “A locked stall is the only place I can get some privacy. I need to look at the photos on the Internet and post what Regan just told me on my social media.”
He dropped his hand, and she walked away.
“I don’t get it,” Regan whispered to Pavlo. “Everyone who meets Finlay loves her except Drake. What’s his problem?”
“I told you, he doesn’t like reporters,” Pavlo said.
It was a pity. If he’d given Finlay a chance, Drake would see she wasn’t your typical reporter.
Regan watched Drake as his eyes followed Finlay across the lobby. The corner of his mouth curled up. Maybe he was starting to figure that out.
Chapter twenty-four
Theafterpartywaslikeall the others Pavlo had attended—good food, lots to drink, and celebrities mingling with guests. He was always on the invited celebrity list but usually felt he should have been included on the guest list. He never felt comfortable at these affairs. It was only ten o’clock, and Pavlo was ready to leave.
Pavlo enjoyed a good party, but he enjoyed an evening at home even more. It was the exact opposite of what the tabloids and entertainment websites would have people believe. The functions he attended were mainly work-related events, causes he or Shadow Defense supported. Pavlo was more of a homebody.
He wasn’t set on one specific place when they were deciding on a home base for Shadow Defense. All five of them had traveled the world and knew they would continue to do so as part of owning and operating a private military contracting firm.
Their warm welcome in Ridgeton, Montana, Javier’s hometown, hadn’t been expected, nor had the staunch support of the community of fifty thousand. Pavlo hailed from Chicago, and the small city had initially seemed just that. Small. He was surprised at how quickly he’d adapted to what he considered small-town life.