two small bottles of scotch from it. “They’re announcing you as the new face of the campaign, which means it has to be you.”
Her gaze dropped to the bottles in my hand, and she cocked a brow at me as I smirked. “What? You look like you need to calm down. This will do the trick. It’s just one. Unless you’re a serious lightweight, it shouldn’t get you hammered.”
“It won’t,” she said confidently, holding out her hand and wiggling her fingers in a gimme motion. I handed one of the tiny bottles over to her, and she cracked it open before raising it into the air. “Thanks for coming, Dane. I really appreciate you being here for me.”
“I told you I would be.” I cracked my own tiny bottle open, clinking it to hers before tipping the entirety of the contents into my mouth.
Leah did the same, not flinching as she swallowed it all down in one go before setting the bottle down again. “I needed that.”
“So did I,” I said honestly, collecting her bottle and tossing both in the trash before I went to sit down next to her. Her gaze caught on mine, the green bright and still filled with nervous light. Before I could even think about it, I reached out and took both her hands in mine. “It doesn’t matter what they think about you. Just go out there and do your best.”
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me they’re going to love me?” she asked with an undertone of disbelieving humor.
I shrugged. “I don’t make promises I can’t keep. I can’t tell you they’re going to love you because they should, but I don’t know if they will. What I can tell you is that we won’t drop you just because of one bad interview. Now go out there and kick some ass.”
For a long minute, she didn’t move a muscle. She kept her eyes on mine and hands in mine, simply breathing as we looked at each other. The air seemed to thicken between us, cracking with electricity that was so palpable I could almost feel it buzzing over my skin.
Leah’s lips parted but she didn’t say anything, eventually smiling before she let go of my hands and stood up. “I’ll do my best to kick some ass, but you’re taking me out after this. I need food and drinks. Lots of both.”
“Anywhere you want,” I promised, glancing toward the door when a knock came from it. “Are you ready?”
“I guess we’re just going to have to see.” She inhaled deeply, smoothed out the dress, and then nodded at me before striding to the door.
A woman with an earpiece and a clipboard stood on the other side. “They’re ready for you, Ms. James. You’re on in five minutes.”
“Right.” Leah turned to give me a final smile before she followed the woman away from the dressing room.
Like a true bitch boy, I picked up her purse and kept it with me when I left the room. Just in case.
I was tempted to roll my eyes at myself, but I didn’t. Instead, I gripped the little fucking purse like it was a football and I was about to win the Superbowl unless I let somebody take it from me.
Leah was ushered onto the stage minutes later, and she had each of the presenters wrapped around her fingers not thirty seconds after that. Her genuine smile, shyness, uncertainty laced with just enough confidence, and quick wit saw everyone in the room falling in love with her in a matter of the next few minutes.
Watching her win over the room was fucking mesmerizing. But that word kept popping into my head when I was with her.
The only thing that kept me from fully enjoying the moment was the worry lingering in the back of my mind about Jefferson. He’s going backward so fast now.
My brain played ping pong between being captivated by Leah and being panicked about our boss. By the time her interview ended, not even I knew where my mind was at. She picked up on it almost as soon as she rejoined me backstage, resting her hand on my bicep once we were safely ensconced in the dressing room once again.
“Do you need anything?” she asked softly. “I’m assuming Jefferson’s not really okay. You seem distracted.”
I managed a thin smile, letting my hand rest on her hip as I shook my head. “Everything will be fine. Jefferson will be back on his feet soon. Try not