A Shot of Red (3 page)

“I understand how serious this is for the company,” she said, “and that it’s important not to cause public panic with an early launch.”

A siren wailed behind them, startling Mia. Claude pulled the car onto the shoulder of the road and allowed an ambulance to pass. Afterward, Lila seemed to be expecting Mia to say more.

“People need to understand it’s critical to get immunized,” Mia said. “I get that, and I’m more than willing to help behind the scenes. But can’t Brent and his staff handle the appearances?”

Mia caught a glimpse of Claude’s reflection in the rearview mirror. His gaze shifted to meet Lila’s, and they shared a serious look. Had neither of them expected her to mention Brent, even though Lila was insisting that Mia work side by side with him? Mia wondered which of them would be in charge, as if the arrangement wasn’t going to be awkward enough already.

Lila pursed her lips for a long moment. “I’m afraid Brent can’t…” She reached for Mia’s hand and clutched it tightly. “Sweetie, Brent passed away last week.”

Chapter Two

Giancarlo Lorenzo strode toward the back of the too-warm O’Byrne Gallery in the DAR headquarters in Washington, DC. He picked one of the 140 empty chairs set up theater-style and sat. Last row, on the end, next to one of the floor-to-barreled-ceiling windows. He needed a break from the chaos at the front of the room where preparations were under way for tonight’s press conference.

“Can you hear me back there, Gio?” Matthew Moncure asked from the stage, microphone in hand. He wore a black suit the exact color of his hair, and lowered his dark eyebrows over droopy eyes.

“I hear you, but the mic isn’t on.” And that’s about how things were going with Matthew in charge.

Gio had gotten the disturbing call from him last week…

“You and Brent English have spearheaded the One Shot launch campaign,” Matthew had said. Gio imagined him sitting in his posh office at Moncure Therapeutics, wasting time making phone calls to state the obvious. “Looks like you two put together a relatively thorough plan.”

Relatively?
Coordinating the plan had been a team effort that resulted in a cutting-edge campaign that Gio was eager to see implemented. Fortunately Matthew had had nothing to do with it.

“Looks like it.” No way was Gio getting into a pissing match with Matthew. “Brent did a great job on the Moncure side.”

“That’s why I’m calling. I’m taking over as public relations director at Moncure—temporarily.”

Sitting at his desk in his not-so-posh office, Gio had pinched his eyes closed as dread crept down his spine and settled in his tense lower back muscles. He could definitely use a punishing workout followed by a massage. The thought of a woman’s hands all over his body brought Mia Moncure to mind, even months after their game-changing night together. Her delicate fingers. Her feathery touch that had become firm and tight exactly when and where he needed it. He shifted in his chair, longing for her, as if only her hands could give him release.

“Did Brent get a promotion or something?” That was the best Gio could hope for, considering he really liked the guy, despite his past relationship with Mia. It had been over between Brent and Mia before Gio’s night with her, but he still felt a little guilty knowing Brent was hoping to win her back. After Mia had gone to Haiti, he and Brent worked late one night. Over a couple of beers, Brent had confided that he thought his relationship with Mia was going somewhere—like straight to the altar—but then she stomped on the brakes and left for Haiti.

“I mean, everything was good,” Brent had said, looking dazed.

Gio had worked to keep the envy off his face, and kept his secret about his night with Mia to himself. Clearly Brent was depressed about how things had gone down, and Gio could relate. He’d wanted her every second since he left her bed. And he spent way too much time wondering how the hell he’d been so off the mark thinking she’d felt the same deep connection with him.

With the early launch of Moncure’s vaccine, he and Brent would’ve been working together nearly 24-7 for the next month or so. Now Gio would have to work with Matthew, and that could get prickly. Why hadn’t Matthew tapped Brent’s assistant, Ellen Sloane, to jump in and lead? She’d worked for Moncure for years, all in PR, and climbed the ranks with well-deserved promotions. No doubt she was familiar with every expectation that Lila Moncure and the U.S. government had regarding the execution of the One Shot flu vaccine campaign.

“Brent died,” Matthew had said.

Gio’s stomach had pitched. He planted his elbows on his desk and bowed his head into his hand. “What happened?”

“He took a quick trip to Switzerland to go to a funeral for a friend of his,” Matthew said. “Evidently he was spreading the guy’s ashes on a mountaintop and took a nasty fall that killed him.”

“That’s awful.” Gio hadn’t thought much about how he’d rather die, but falling off a mountain wouldn’t be anywhere near the top of the list. “I hate to hear that.” He’d rubbed his thumb over his temple where his head had started to ache. “Brent was a good guy. I liked working with him. He’ll definitely be missed.”

Gio refocused on the scene in the O’Byrne Gallery. Ellen Sloane stood next to the stage at the front, looking apprehensive as Matthew plowed through their plans for the press conference for the vaccine launch. Matthew had little PR experience, and this was no time for on-the-job training. Gio was all about addressing issues straight-on, but he couldn’t complain to his boss—Senator Catherine Moncure was Matthew’s mother. As her communications director, Gio and his staff were expected to execute flawlessly, no matter whom they had to work with.

He stood and stretched, halfway listening as Matthew again reviewed the setup on the stage. “Here we’ll have reps from CDC, NIH, HHS.” He pointed toward several chairs. “And my mother.”

…Who wouldn’t miss an opportunity to be in front of a television camera, especially during prime time.

Gesturing to the far side of the stage, Matthew said, “My grandmother and the surgeon general will sit there, I’ll be next to them, and we’ll need another chair for Mia.”

Mia?
Gio’s heart skidded to a stop, then took off twice as fast. Mia had come back from Haiti? Because of Brent’s death, the early vaccine launch, or both? Whatever the reason, she was back. Maybe now he’d finally get answers to all the questions he’d been guessing at for months.

The space in the large room seemed to tighten, and Gio needed some air. He opened one of the massive French doors, stepped out onto the colonnaded portico, and inhaled deeply. At the edge of the rotunda, he stopped. He shoved his hands in his pockets and gazed at the view, a chilly breeze blowing open his suit jacket. In the near distance, the Washington Monument stood illuminated against the hazy afternoon sky.

Everyone was tense, so he doubted anybody would connect his sudden need to be alone with Matthew’s mention of Mia, if anyone noticed at all. He’d heard little about her from anyone except Brent since she’d taken off for Haiti months ago, and he had been in no position to ask questions. Early on, the senator had leveraged the news that her daughter was on a humanitarian mission to an earthquake-ravaged and disease-ridden country. Not a message Gio had crafted, but useful just the same. People loved when the children of high-level government officials acted heroically. It was usually good for a bump in approval ratings, even though the numbers rarely stuck.

He raked his fingers through his hair. Working on an aid team was a respectable thing for Mia to do, but it had nothing to do with her mother. It had just seemed wrong for the senator to make political hay out of it.

No, there was no reason anyone would connect Gio to Mia, even though since then, he hadn’t been able to imagine being with another woman, much less actually going out with anyone. As far as he could tell, only the two of them knew about that night eight and a half months ago.

The band London Grammar had attracted a capacity crowd to the intimate 9:30 Club in Northwest DC. They’d delivered an incredible performance and played two encores. Gio had shown up alone, grabbed a beer, and lucked into a spot standing along the railing of the upper level. He’d always preferred that perspective—watching the band and most of the crowd from the horseshoe-shaped balcony above.

About halfway through the show, he’d spotted Mia Moncure, standing on the main floor about halfway back. His breath hitched. He couldn’t believe a girl like her hadn’t caught his eye sooner. Now that he’d picked her out, her golden-blond hair drew his attention every time he scanned the crowd. Best he could tell, she was alone—rumor had it that she’d broken up with her boyfriend—which wasn’t the way to listen to London Grammar. He could vouch for that. Their music was sensuous, haunting, and beautiful. The kind that was meant to be shared and lead to other things.

In the crowd, couples had paired up, facing the stage, arms entwined. Gio envied them. Over the years, he’d been lucky enough to have a fair number of women look his way. He’d dated a lot. Before he’d landed his job with Senator Moncure—and started working even more—he was seeing several girls. He’d figured that was the best way to keep things casual. Besides, it was rare that a woman kept him interested beyond a few dates.

But something about Mia Moncure had turned him into the wanting one. Gio had been working for her mother a little over a year. He’d met Mia early on, and seen her ever so often, usually at some stuffy event that she managed to make short time of, and during which he was gripping and grinning and acting official. They’d also been together at an occasional business dinner, but never seated side by side. He hadn’t had a chance to get to know her as well as he wanted to, but he figured that might be for the best. Last year, one of Senator Moncure’s staffers had set her sights on Matthew, and she wasn’t shy about it. Soon she was out of a job. “Office romances are strictly forbidden,” Senator Moncure had said in a staff meeting after the episode. “And that includes relationships with members of my family.”

Despite her warning, when he’d found himself fantasizing about a woman, that woman was Mia. And why wouldn’t he? She was whip-smart, well spoken, and being groomed to lead a biotech firm. Not only that, she was sexy as hell, and he wondered if she even knew it. After all these months, he still remembered exactly how she’d looked that night at the concert. Tall and lean, wearing faded jeans and a thin sweater—just tight enough to reveal her perfect curves. She’d sensuously swayed to the music, her eyes sometimes closed, her silky hair gleaming beneath the lights. The sight of her like that had made him rock-hard, but he’d managed to get himself under control by focusing on the band.

Mia was incredibly hot, but there’d been something deeper that attracted Gio to her, even before the night at the club. From what he’d heard and what he could tell, she was a quiet renegade, as he’d been known to be at times. Her subtle style of rebellion intrigued him.

After the concert, he’d stayed and watched the roadies clear the stage while most of the crowd filtered out of the club. He was in no hurry to get back to his town house in Capitol Hill, go to bed, and start all over again in a matter of hours.

“Killer show, huh?” Gio turned to see his neighbor Karl, who lived in the English basement apartment two doors down and moonlighted as a bouncer at the club. He spent his days working in a motorcycle repair shop, and often claimed—as he stood outside his apartment smoking a Marlboro when Gio was coming or going—that he’d be a more kick-ass reality TV star than any of those guys on
Orange County Choppers
ever were. Once in a while he’d offer Gio tickets to a show, and he’d usually offer him a beer—even at 6:00 a.m.

Gio gave him a firm handshake. “You kicking me out?”

“Gotta shut this place down, man, and get to the after-party.” Wiry and hyper, Karl adjusted the black bandanna he wore like a do-rag on his shaved head. “Interested?”

Gio shook his head, trying to think of the last time he’d gone to a party that wasn’t somehow associated with his job. “Thanks, but I’ve already broken curfew.”

Karl winked conspiratorially. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

But Gio did know, and he wasn’t missing the wilder lifestyle he’d left behind in favor of climbing the slippery-rung career ladder on Capitol Hill. At thirty-two, he knew better than to pick a random party over being alert and effective in the morning.

He made his way downstairs and stepped outside into the unseasonably warm and clear February night. The band’s tour bus was parked along the curb on one side of the club, and groupies flocked nearby. Gio liked the band’s music, respected their talent, and had dropped a decent amount of cash to hear them play. But he’d never related to groupie-think—even though it was useful to his line of work.

Several small groups lingered along the opposite curb, likely waiting for cabs. Gio turned to walk toward the parking lot down the block, but the shimmery color of sun on wheat caught his eye. About twenty feet up the sidewalk stood Mia Moncure.

Alone.

Gio’s better judgment told him to walk away, but he ignored the warning. The music had had an effect on him—nearly as much as she had—and he was dying to get close to her. He headed toward her with an easy grin on his face. “Hell of a show, huh?”

She glanced his way. “Gio, hi.” Her blue eyes sparkled, and he’d swear she looked happy to see him. “My mom gave you a night off?”

“You know better than that. I left a mannequin at my desk and hoped she wouldn’t notice.”

She smiled and, not for the first time, he focused on her lips—full and pink and unquestionably kissable.

“She’ll notice,” Mia said drily. “She notices everything.”

Gio grimaced. “Then I guess I’ll be working overtime for the next couple of— ”

“Years.” And there was that bright-white smile again, tempered by a little self-consciousness that Gio would never understand.

He struggled not to stare and tried to remember the last time he’d been so captivated by a woman. Why did this one have to be his boss’s daughter?

“The show was worth it.” He tipped his head toward the club. “I had a cold beer and a spot along the upstairs railing.”

“Sweet.”

A cab approached the club in the intermittent stream of traffic. Mia raised her hand to hail it a moment after a guy in a nearby group did the same. The cab pulled up to the group and the four of them got inside.

Gio had to give the cabbie credit for maxing out his fare, but did the guy get a look at the girl he’d just passed by?