Everyone started asking questions at once, but Marlene Hawks, RCI’s public relations director, interrupted them.
“That’s enough for now,” she said in her authoritative tone. “Sophie and I have a meeting. Dr. Nariovsky-Trent, you too.” She gestured toward the Situation Room and waved them in. Michael and Sophie sat down, but Marlene stood, looking at them.
“We have a meeting?” Sophie asked dryly.
“I figured you’d be in today,” Marlene said. “Will briefed me after you two left Kaliningrad. Joanna Rigby from UNICEF is acting as the PR lead for the coalition. You’ll be spending Monday with her to approve press materials and get trained.” She continued to stare at them, tapping one of her long, red fingernails against her teeth.
“Will told me you have a preexisting friendship,” she said at last. “The news agencies will figure this out very quickly. They’ll start digging the minute we produce an American POW out of our back pockets. Our plan was to be reactively transparent about your previous relationship.”
“We figured as much,” Sophie said. “We’re fine with that.”
Marlene’s eyes narrowed, settling on Michael, who looked back with characteristic stoniness. “Will didn’t tell me that you two are romantically involved.”
“Jesus.” Sophie swore some days that Marlene was psychic. “How do you draw that conclusion?”
“You’d have to be in the grave for a month not to notice; your chemistry is off the charts. Don’t you see the way he looks at you?” She jerked her chin at Michael. “He practically tripped over himself to open the door for you. Sophie, you’re glowing like a Christmas tree, and I’m pretty sure you’re wearing one of his shirts. I can’t decide whether to be happy for you or throw up.”
“Thanks a lot.” She cursed herself for leaving the house wearing Michael’s button-down. “Yes, we’re romantically involved. As if that’s anyone’s business.”
“Don’t be na?ve,” said Marlene. “The media is going to crucify you. They’ll say this was a personal rescue mission on your part. Once this gets out – and it will – the media will have a field day with you.”
She felt the color drain out of her face. Michael suddenly leaned forward and took her hand.
“The media will be having no field days at my expense or Sophie’s.” His eyes were dark with fury. “It will be your job and the job of your colleagues to manage it appropriately. I will not have her name or mine dragged through the mud. See to it that you do your work.”
Marlene sat back, eyebrows raised. “Aren’t you the one? Will said you have a wicked temper. Don’t worry, we’ll manage the media. At least, we can manage the story as best we can. But if I have my way, you two will never interview together in person. Not unless things get really out of hand.” She paused. “Now I have a bomb to drop on you guys.”
“What is it?” Sophie felt more dread in her stomach. “What’s wrong?”
Marlene smiled. “This is a good bomb.” She held up a bank check and a sheaf of legal paperwork. “Someone made a donation, earmarked specifically to cover ‘any and all extraordinary costs incurred by the Refugee Crisis Coalition associated with the rescue and repatriation of Dr. Michael Nariovsky-Trent.’”
“Holy shit.” Sophie reached out with trembling fingers to take the check. “Is it enough?”
“More than, although not by much,” confirmed Marlene. “The amount is close enough that it makes us think the donor had inside information.”
“Who was it?” She felt shaken to the core by this development.
“Anonymous.” Marlene pointed to the legal paperwork. “Came through a big name law firm. Cash money, not a pledge to cover these costs in the future, which all too frequently doesn’t materialize. Cash in the hand.” She looked at Michael. “You, my friend, are home free.”
Michael vibrated with tension all the way back to Midtown. There was no point in talking to him when he was in this state, so Sophie let him be. As they sat on the train, he reached down to take her hand. She squeezed it tight.
His mood remained dark for the remainder of the day. Michael’s parents were at a social engagement, so he and Sophie had a quiet dinner and watched a movie. She didn’t push to talk. He was too fixated about the possibility of their relationship becoming a topic of media scrutiny.
Eventually, she pulled him against her on the couch and started rubbing her fingers through his short hair. He was just starting to relax when the phone in the kitchen rang, and he jumped, his head connecting with Sophie’s jaw.
“Jesus!” She rubbed her chin until Michael pulled her hands away, searching for bleeding. “You’re so edgy tonight.” She winced as he probed her jaw line.
“I know. I am sorry, mana mila. This afternoon was…”