We love that you saved the mayor. So, so great! But when asked, keep the conversation to the part where he carried you out. That’s the focus we want here.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, Madison had hinted at plans for the campaign, nonsense about how Alex would be expected to fall into line with appearances to make the mayor look good. Some bullshit about ball games and “maximizing the story’s potential.”

The idea of spending time with Eli Cooper turned her inside out with a flapping panic. A strangely sickening, yet pleasurable feeling.

“Hey, babe.”

In the mirror, Alex saw Kinsey step inside, wearing a snappy red suit that clung to her petite-framed curves. Out in Chiberia, it was four inches of filthy snow mush, but as always, Cali girl Kinsey looked like the shit in heels.

“What are you doing here?”

With a flick of her blond hair, she grinned. “Couldn’t leave you alone with M Squared and the Snake.”

Alex giggled, the release blanketing her nerves somewhat. “That sounds like an eighties rap duo.” Her levity fled as she caught her reflection in the mirror once more. “I can’t do anything with my hair.”

“Here, let me.” Kinsey, efficient to her bones, took charge and managed to get it under her cap. “So, has Madison tried to bully you? Working with her every day, I know how difficult she can be.”

“I’m to ensure the story reflects well on the boss.”

Kinsey held her gaze in the mirror, Mama Bear ferocity in her expression. “Now, listen to me. You saved his life, and no matter what happened afterward, that is the take-home here. If either of them tries to minimize your contribution, I’ll get up on that podium and unleash my wrath.”

“And I’ll be right behind her.”

Darcy walked in, looking like a rock ’n’ roll Snow White in leather, lace, and fuck-yeah ink. The woman was well known as one of the best tattoo artists in Chicagoland, and the intricate swirls and patterns on her forearms were a testament to her amazing skills. “This doesn’t look like much of a party, ladies. Should I break out my vodka stash?”

“God, I wish I could be drunk while I do this.” Alex hugged Darcy.

“Beck thought you might need some support, but to be honest, Eli’s not going to screw you over. I’ve known him all my life. He’s a really decent guy.” She saw the look Kinsey and Alex exchanged. “Okay, so you’ve both had different dealings with him, but I know he’s fair. And if he isn’t, we’ve got your back.”

Warmth spread like molasses across Alex’s chest. She’d always had a hard time making girlfriends, but since her brothers hooked up with these two awesome women, she’d felt truly blessed. Her mom used to say, Surround yourself with people who love and support you, then love and support them right back. And Alex was a fully paid-up subscriber.

“I’m just so nervous. I hate public speaking, all this crap.”

Kinsey straightened Alex’s tie. “For someone who despises being the center of attention, you sure do manage to attract it.”

“I can’t help it. Trouble seems to find me.”

“So said every felon in Cook County Correctional Center,” Darcy said drily.

A flash of light buzzed Alex’s eyes, forcing her to grab Kinsey’s hand, the one with the new addition the size of Jupiter. “Ohmahgerd, Luke popped the question?”

“At dinner last night. I thought you’d never notice.”

The three of them screamed so loudly the mayor’s cut crystal decanters probably shattered in his office.

“Why didn’t you say anything at the hospital?”

“We had something else on our minds.” Kinsey squeezed Alex’s arm. “You scared everyone half to death, especially Luke. You know how he is.”

Luke had taken on the role of Dempsey dad when Sean and Logan died, and had always been the most protective of her older siblings. The episode with Alex and Cochrane had almost ended things between Kinsey and Luke, and now here she went again, upstaging the happy couple with her shenanigans.

“Took him long enough to do the deed,” Darcy said, fingertips on her chin, unsubtly showcasing her own hand complete with the beautiful sapphire Beck had given her last September. “Four whole months together and about to buy a house. You even have a puppy!”

Kinsey’s eyes twinkled with emotion and pride. “I told him that I’d have said yes the day I came back to Chicago to be with him, but he wanted to save up for the ring. Do it old school.” She’d been engaged before to some hotshot surgeon, which Alex suspected left Luke feeling competitive when it came to the bling.

They all gazed at the ring again and exhaled a chorus of happy, girly sighs. Then Kinsey cleared her throat in a back-to-business fashion. “Now you’re the hero, babe, and make sure no one forgets it. But with that said, just try to stay cool in there, ’kay?”

“You mean, don’t pull a Luke?”

Kinsey chuckled. “You two might not be related by blood, but you are very, very alike.”

Eli strode toward the media room on the fifth floor of city hall where the reporters were waiting to grill him.

“Mr. Mayor,” he heard Mads call behind him. “Your jacket.”

He stopped and thrust out his hand, while his assistant, Whitney, handed over his gray Armani suit coat. As he drew it on, he took a moment to pull on his cuffs. Dial up his game face. Ignore Alexandra Dempsey, who was standing a few feet off to the side, shuffling from one foot to the other.

The low hum of the reporters hushed as he walked into the media room.

“Good morning”—vultures and vulturesses—“ladies and gentlemen.”

Murmurs of “Mr. Mayor” waved over the room, as gentle as the Lake Michigan surf in summer, but he knew better. He’d take a gym hall of disgruntled voters or a city council chamber of drunken aldermen before he’d choose to spend a moment with this barrel full of snakes. The media room was like a bad comedy club with a three-drink minimum.

“How many proposals today, Mr. Mayor?” someone called out, the Sun-Times’s Kenny Fiedler from the sounds of that two-packs-a-day wheeze. It was a running joke with the press that he received a steady stream of marriage proposals from his female, and occasionally male, fan base.

“Slow day. Only three in my in-box this morning.” He raised a hand. “Please hold your questions until I’ve made a statement.”

He hadn’t looked, but he could sense Alexandra’s presence off to the side. Only sheer willpower kept him from indulging a near uncontrollable impulse to stare at her.

“Last night, a fire broke out at the Drake Hotel, the cause of which is still under investigation. Due to the Chicago Fire Department’s perfect execution of their duties, no one was seriously hurt. At one point, I found myself overcome by a minor head injury and smoke inhalation that resulted in me losing consciousness. Firefighter Alexandra Dempsey of Engine Company 6 gave me her air and pulled me to the safety of a nearby stairwell.”

Finally, he allowed himself the luxury of glancing in her direction. Color tagged her cheekbones and springy curls had escaped from the prison of her cap. She gnawed on her lip, a move that was as brazenly erotic as it was innocent.

Awe at what she had done for him bloomed in his chest. She was so damn brave. “Without Firefighter Dempsey’s quick thinking, I would not be here. She saved my life, and I am immensely grateful.”

She raised her gaze to his, and the fragility he saw there struck him all kinds of hard. He wanted to hug her—then take unscrupulous advantage.

“Firefighter Dempsey, would you mind?”

She took a few steps. Once within a couple of feet, he closed the gap. “For the cameras, honey,” he murmured.

The sizzle between his shoulder blades as he shook her hand conjured the memory of her curling those fingers around his last night in that hotel corridor. I’m here, she had said. I’m not leaving. The soft clicks of the reporters’ cameras sounded, and still, he held on to her hand.