Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Maxim shrugs. “Growing up, O thought Batman was the coolest DC comic character, and I called Superman because…obviously. You mean stuff like that?”
The audience laughs, and Connor offers a good-natured grin but isn’t giving up.
“I mean on things like climate change and gun control,” Connor says. “He has a much more progressive stance on guns, and you have what some would call a radical position on climate change.”
“Wow, aren’t you supposed to softball it, asking about that special someone in my life or if I have any tattoos?”
“Do you have any tattoos?” Connor laughs.
“I do. One.”
“I bet the ladies out there want to know where it is.”
“Don’t leave the guys out.”
“What’s the tattoo? If you don’t mind me asking.”
“No, that’s actually better than your first question.”
Amusement ripples through the audience again, and Maxim looks out at them, winking like they’re in on the joke or sharing a secret.
“One tattoo,” he says. “The word endurance, after my favorite expeditioner’s ship.”
“You have a favorite expeditioner?”
“Not as cool as you thought, huh?”
Connor waits for the audience laughter to die down, glances at the little card in his hand, and dives back in. “Don’t think I’m letting you off the hook with my first question, but is there a special woman in your life?”
I tense in my seat, gripping my little mug within an inch of its porcelain life.
Maxim pulls his bottom lip between his teeth for a second and then grins. “When there is, you’ll be the first to know, Connor.”
My breath whooshes out, louder than I thought apparently because Glenn looks away from the screen to my face. “You okay?”
“Me?” I frown, like why are you even asking me this. “Of course. This hot chocolate’s just…hot.”
Thus the name hot chocolate.
“Well, now that we’ve addressed that,” Connor goes on, “back to my original question.”
“Persistent, aren’t you?” Maxim slides down in his chair an inch or so and folds well-defined arms across his chest, spreading his legs the slightest bit. It’s a move of subtle masculine power, flaunting his ease and comfort. He’s unthreatened.
“How do you reconcile the differences of opinion you have with your brother?”
“I think the better question is why do you want me to?” Maxim fires back, still smiling. “I’m like any other American voter. I look at the choices I’m given and decide whom I trust to make the world better. There will inevitably be some issues I wish my candidate wanted to do more about and some policies where we don’t exactly agree, but I believe he’s the best man for the job. If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t vote for him, and that’s the truth. It would make family dinners awkward, but hey…”
“Speaking of family,” Connor goes on. “Your father did an interview recently, too.”
I sense tension in Maxim—the slightest narrowing around the corners of his eyes and tightening of his mouth. The casual observer wouldn’t notice, but I’m anything but casual when it comes to this man. Never have been. Owen probably recognizes it too, his smile fading as he waits for what’s next.
“He was asked who he saw as the most influential business mind of the last decade,” Connor says. “Do you know who he said?”
“Uh, I could guess,” Maxim says, “or you could just tell me.”
“You.”
Maxim lifts both brows and nods. “Wow. That’s quite a compliment.”
He sounds completely unaffected, but there’s a flare of response, an alertness to his green eyes belied by his indolent posture.
“You and your father have been at odds for a while,” Connor goes on. “How would you characterize the relationship?”
“Like any other family,” Maxim says. “We don’t always agree, and we let differences get in the way sometimes, but at the end of the day we’re still family. Like yours or anyone else’s, but our disagreements sometimes play out for everyone to see.”
“Will he be on the campaign trail with you and Owen?”
“He’s a very busy man, but he knows O has the strength of character to lead this country. He’ll know how to best support him.”
“Good answer,” Owen murmurs, looking over at me. “He didn’t commit Dad to the trail but didn’t make it seem like there’s a problem.”
“Great answer,” I agree.
“Now there’s also an interesting dynamic with your dad and your brother’s campaign manager,” Connor says, grinning.
I hold my breath, and Owen narrows his gaze on the TV screen, not looking at me.
“What dynamic is that?” Maxim asks easily.
“They hate each other.”
“God, Connor, you make us sound like a bad soap opera.”
“No, a good one. Like Dallas or Dynasty.”
The audience laughs, and Maxim does, too, albeit with that guarded watchful look on his face.
“Okay, okay, enough tough stuff,” Connor says. “Let me ask the things everyone wants to know.”
With his hardest-hitting questions out of the way, Connor shifts to lighter topics, and by the end, Maxim has the audience thinking and laughing and pretty much swooning.