to get out of bed the following morning to work. I booted up my laptop, pulled out the draft of the poll and completed it by phone with my staff. A final version of the document had been sent to a call center in Omaha and now, almost two days later, we had the first results, which were promising: Levi was ahead in the race.
It was welcome news as I started to recover from my injuries over the following days. My eyes remained a shade of pink, but at least I no longer looked like a wandering zombie. Elsa was my constant companion, watching my every move, under the guise of needing to apply more of Nadia’s healing remedies to my shoulder.
Although I had no proof, I suspected William had contacted Gabriel and Aidan to tell them I’d kicked him out. If they knew, then Elsa did too, but she didn’t mention William, and neither did I. The last time I’d seen him or been in contact had been at my front door, when we said goodbye.
Thoughts of our last conversation continued to churn my stomach. It felt futile to try to convince him of my views, so I kept my distance. The fact that my heart was broken was irrelevant. There was no room for prolonged conflict in my life. Thanks to my walk-on role as an accidental witness to a jewelry heist, I’d already lost precious time I needed for the campaign. I was determined to focus on my work and set thoughts of William aside, at least until I could figure out how to deal with him.
By the third morning, thanks to Nadia’s magic drops, my eyes were clear. My shoulder was tender, but not terribly bruised. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I decided I looked “safe” enough to make an appearance in Palo Alto.
It felt good to be back at work, and for the next several days I spent long hours at the campaign headquarters writing direct mail pieces, and running impromptu meetings with the campaign committee, which consisted of me, Levi, Gabriel, and Richard Lyon, a close friend of Levi’s and the founder of a hugely successful venture capital fund. Lyon’s seaside home in Carmel was scheduled to be the site of our first house party, a meet-and-greet with potential donors and friends in an informal setting.
The party, which was about a week away, was being organized by Richard’s office, which was managing the catering and event staff. A separate fundraising firm had been hired to send the invitations and identify major donors. All that was left for me was to manage the press and escort the candidate—easy tasks I was more than prepared to do. It all would have been simple, if my phone were not buzzing every few seconds, signaling I had a text.
Olivia
Finish what you start
Please don’t walk away
… Again.
William.
I ignored him. By the following day, the texts had turned to phone calls, which I ignored. The missed calls turned into voicemail. Each message caused the phone to beep and vibrate. After the fifth or sixth call, Gabriel, who’d come to help me work on the party, reached across the table and grabbed my phone, holding it up for me to see.
“I assume this is William,” he said. “Aren’t you going to answer his calls?”
“No, he doesn’t approve of my work,” I said. “What’s the point?”
“Çe n’est pas bon, Olivia,” he said. “Il n’est pas un vautour.”
“He’s not a vulture? Can you explain that?”
“You know what I mean. A vulture is always buzzing around looking for an opportunity. William is the opposite; he’s a good man.”
“He’s too complicated.”
“And you?” Gabriel asked. “Aren’t you a bit complicated, too?”
I dodged the question, changing the subject. “How are the videos of the robbery coming? Any luck?”
“You must wait until after the party,” Gabriel said. “Then, and only then, will I show you what we found.”
Grudgingly, I agreed to wait, and Gabriel headed back to San Francisco.
Later that day, JP walked into the headquarters and asked to see me. We’d been emailing regularly, but this was the first time I’d seen him in person for a while. The campaign sent out press releases weekly, sometimes daily, announcing key milestones, such as a notable endorsement. JP contacted me after every release for a formal comment, and then we would chat amicably for a few minutes. He hadn’t asked me out on a date again. Now, today, for some reason, he was here in the flesh, carrying a