Page 58 of Shadowed Agenda
Regan nodded. Pavlo bent down and tipped her head up. He kissed her lips lightly and then followed Drake out the door. He closed it, trusting Finlay to keep Regan safe.
“What happened to praying you could survive five days with the woman?” Drake asked, his face deadpan.
“Shut up,” Pavlo said and headed down the hallway.
They had work to do. He wanted to prepare for the next threat the Senator’s supporters would send Regan. Wyndham’s death wasn’t enough to call off their plans for Friday.
Chapter twenty-seven
“IsMackenziealwaysso…”
“Bossy?” Regan supplied as she placed her cell phone on the end table beside her.
“I was going for something a bit more forceful,” Finlay said, pulling a bite-sized quiche out of the bag of pastries Drake had brought. She grimaced and returned it to the bag. “It looks too healthy.” She pulled out an apple turnover. “Better.”
Regan howled. “You’d enjoy movie night at my parents’ place. I swear it’s an excuse for my dad to eat junk food without my mom warning him about cholesterol levels. What adult is eager to watchKitty Cat’s Great Adventurefor the fifth time?”
“I don’t care what we watch as long as there’s a bowl of cheese puffs,” Finlay said. A serious expression replaced her smile. “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” Regan said. Her emotions were a jumble she couldn’t sort through. She tucked her legs under her and sunk into the couch’s back. “Everything is overwhelming, and I’m worried about making the right decisions.”
“So, you and Pavlo? That was an excellent decision. Tell me everything.” Finlay popped the piece of the strudel in her mouth and draped her legs over the chair’s arm, prepared to listen.
“Not much to tell,” Regan said and blushed. Girl talk was exactly what she needed. “It just happened. I thought he hated me. When the threats started, he was there. Every time I told him I could take care of myself, and I pushed him away, he ignored me.”
“Ignored you. I don’t think that’s on anyone’s list for attracting a woman.” Finlay laughed and then glanced at her cell phone. “We’ve got fifteen minutes before Drake shows up. If yesterday was any sign, he is the extremely punctual type.”
“So what about you and Drake?” Regan asked. They may give each other a hard time, but underneath the jabs, there seemed to be a friendship growing.
“He is most definitely my type, but I’m not his type,” Finlay groaned and threw her hands in the air. “He has this thing against reporters. Most people don’t like us digging into their lives. I get that. This feels personal, but I’d never met him before now. Trust me. I’d remember. The things I’d like to do with his body...”
The shrill ring of a cell phone cut their laughter short. They both looked at their cell phones.
“It’s Pavlo,” Regan said as she answered and tapped the speaker button. “Hello?”
He didn’t hear her, but they could hear his voice and Drake’s. They were in the midst of a conversation.
“It was a butt dial,” Regan said.
Before she could hang up, they heard Pavlo’s voice rise in intensity.
“It was a one-night stand. A diversion. A mistake.”
Regan felt like a pit had opened up and swallowed her whole. She didn’t want to hear anymore. She tappedendand stared at the cell phone in her hands.
“Hey.” Finlay took the cell phone in her hand and placed it on the coffee table. Regan hadn’t even noticed she’d moved from the chair to sit beside her. “That was part of a bigger conversation. It’s easier to misconstrue things. I’m sure it’s not what you think.”
“It seemed pretty clear to me,” Regan said, feeling ashamed that she’d allowed herself to be used. She’d been a fool to open her heart to Pavlo. He was a playboy, one of America’s top one hundred bachelors. How could she have thought Pavlo felt more for her, wanted more than a fun night in bed?
“You need to ask him what that…” Finlay pointed to Regan’s cell, “Was all about. There was a silly game we played as kids. I think it was calledtelephone. We sat in a circle. One kid whispered one sentence to the kid beside them. Then, that kid whispered it to the next kid. When the last kid repeated the sentence, there was no resemblance to the original sentence.”
“I don’t understand,” Regan asked. She knew her friend was trying to soften the blow of Pavlo’s insensitive rejection, but how did a kids’ game relate to her situation?
“If everyone in the circle knew the context of the first sentence, the message wouldn’t have seemed like a string of words easily confused with others. Context would have helped each person figure out any words they didn’t hear clearly,” Finlay said and pointed to Regan’s cell phone again. “What you heard was out of context. Pavlo could have been talking about anyone.”
“But he slept with me last night,” Regan whispered, knowing she hadn’t misunderstood.
Regan didn’t want to talk about it. When life seemed too much to handle, her go-to strategy was Bailey’s, straight from the bottle or a healthy amount poured into a gigantic bowl of vanilla ice cream. Nothing was better than a wicked hangover and a crying baby the next morning to put everything into perspective.