Page 8 of Secret Baby Daddy

“They care about leverage. You want to negotiate with people who have stolen property. I want to find them and break their leverage.”

“You are going to trip over your own paranoia, Calder. You see assassins in every shadow.”

“You see a camera in every mirror.”

We are practically breathing the same air.

I can see the faint shadow of stubble along his jaw.

He never raises his voice.

He never loses his temper.

He simply exists as an immovable object, waiting for everyone else to exhaust themselves against his surface.

“I am the lead on this crisis,” I state.

“The narrative goes through me. If you want to play security guard, you can stand by the door and check IDs.”

Calder laughs, short and humorless.

“You are not the lead. We are both standing in this room because Cordelia Merrick knows exactly what she needs. She needs someone to clean up the mess, and she needs someone to find out who made it.”

“I can do both.”

“You can barely do one without turning it into a television special.”

“Enough.”

The voice cracks through the room like a whip.

Cordelia Merrick stands in the doorway.

She is seventy years old, leaning on a silver-handled cane, and she commands the room the second she enters it.

Pristine white suit.

White hair styled flawlessly.

She looks at me, and then at Calder, unimpressed.

“I can hear you both from the hallway. If I wanted to listen to children bicker, I would have visited a playground. Sit down.”

Calder moves immediately, pulls out a chair for her at the dining table near the windows, and says nothing.

I take the chair opposite her.

Calder sits at the end of the table, halfway between us and the main exit.

He is always guarding the door.

“Ms. Vale.”

Cordelia folds her hands over the head of her cane.

“I understand you prefer to have absolute control over your assignments.”

“I deliver the best results when the messaging is singular,” I reply. “A divided team creates contradictory leaks.”