He smiled reluctantly and brought her fingertips to his mouth.
“Ms. Swenda? Dr. Nariovsky-Trent?” They looked up at the man who had entered the room. “Why don’t you come into the studio to meet Annabelle?”
Neither of them was ready to let go, so they walked into the Current Event studios hand in hand to meet Annabelle Hunter.
-
April 27, 2014
Michael had no interviews scheduled for the week the show aired, a good call since his reaction to nervousness was – predictably – bad temper. He’d been so surly at the breakfast table on the day of the airing that Maxwell had given him a few choice sentences in Orlisian about common courtesy. Sophie had never heard Max speak the language before; his mastery of it put her own to shame. Michael apologized and subsided into a tense silence.
“Put the morning show on.” She poured her second cup of coffee. Michael’s refuge might be temper, but hers was control. “They usually run an excerpt from tonight’s show.”
“I do not want to watch it,” he growled.
“Tough shit.” She turned the television on. He made a choked sound in his throat and glared at her. Sophie glared back. She could see him eyeing the remote in her hand, considering making a grab for it, and her eyes narrowed. Maxwell laughed out loud, and they both turned to look angrily at him.
“Sorry,” he said, not sounding the least bit apologetic. “You’re like two peas in a pod, you know.” They both sulked silently. After a few moments, Michael’s foot nudged Sophie’s under the table, but she ignored him. Eventually his hand came down and took hers. She gave it a quick squeeze of apology and acceptance.
The morning show segment focused on the war and the humanitarian emergency that had emerged in the developed world. There were a couple of clips of her and Michael, but they were clearly saving the majority of their “exclusive interview” for the episode of Current Event.
Sophie put her coffee cup in the dishwasher. “I’m going into the office before we end up killing each other.”
He smiled ruefully at her, and she suddenly wished they had the house to themselves. Michael’s smile broadened, and she blushed. He could read her like a book, which both delighted and annoyed her. She stalked upstairs, trying to preserve her dignity.
She brushed her teeth and put on her makeup, her mind already on the day’s schedule. When she left the bathroom, she crashed into Michael, who stood right outside the door. Only his quick reflexes kept her from tumbling to the ground.
“God, sorry, my mind is…” She didn’t get to finish her sentence as his mouth descended over hers. Warmth flooded through her as she caught his urgent mood. He backed her against the wall and kissed her very thoroughly.
“I want to make you late for work,” he breathed into her ear, his hands pulling her skirt up and her underwear down.
“Yes, please. Make me very late.”
He did.
-
That evening, the Nariovsky-Trents and Sophie gathered in front of the television. They had declined an invitation to watch the interview at UNICEF headquarters with the PR staff. Sophie hadn’t been able to eat a thing all day. They’d taken an enormous gamble to get their side of the story out there. While the interview itself had gone very well, the media could easily destroy them both with a few clever edits or a malicious source.
The doorbell rang, startling Sophie. Maxwell opened the door and ushered in Carter and Janet, who had little Michael bundled up on the unexpectedly chilly April evening.
Michael and Sophie rose, surprised at their friends’ sudden appearance.
“I called them,” said Signe. “They are your family. And family needs to be together tonight.” She plucked little Michael out of the carrier and made a gloating face. “I also wished to see this baby since my only son has not given me grandchildren. Yet.”