Any Way You Want It (Brand Clan #2)(82)
Morgan nodded grimly. “I’m afraid so.”
Robyn and Racquel sucked their teeth in disgust.
“If those sons of bitches want a war,” Skylar snarled, her eyes glinting fiercely, “I say we give them one.”
As the others got fired up, Zandra could feel her fighting spirit clawing back to the surface. After her mother died, she’d sworn never to be a victim to any man, for any reason. Wallowing in self-pity and despair was a surefire way to remain trampled upon.
“In order for Zandra to get ahead of this story,” Morgan said decisively, “she has to seize control of the media narrative.”
Lifting her head from Robyn’s shoulder, Zandra met Morgan’s gaze. “All right, Miss PR Guru. You’ve got my attention. Just how do I go about seizing control of the media narrative?”
Morgan’s expression softened, her eyes touching on Zandra’s bruised cheek. “By finally breaking your silence and telling the world the truth.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Three days later, Zandra stared out over a sea of reporters who’d gathered for her scheduled press conference. The bright glare of their cameras made her grateful for the dark sunglasses that concealed her eyes.
As she surveyed the large crowd, nervous apprehension fluttered deep in her stomach. There were local reporters, as well as reporters from national cable networks. Morgan had rightly predicted that this story would generate national interest. It was a slow summer news cycle, and something about Chicago politics had always captured the public’s imagination.
But not everyone assembled was a member of the press. Zandra’s courage was bolstered by the presence of supporters that included Skylar, Lena and the Brands, who’d always been there for her.
And then there was Remy.
When their eyes met, Zandra’s heart twisted painfully. She hadn’t spoken to him since she’d left him standing outside her father’s house. He’d called her, but she hadn’t answered the phone. He’d emailed her, but she hadn’t opened the message.
Looking into his dark eyes, she could see that he was as miserable and heartbroken as she was. But now was not the time to dwell on regret, to mourn what could have been.
Dragging her gaze from his, Zandra watched as Morgan—her newly hired publicist—strode confidently to the podium and read the opening statement she and Zandra had prepared.
After she finished speaking, all eyes were on Zandra.
Taking a deep breath, she looked out into the audience. “Thank you all for coming. The first thing I’d like to do is acknowledge the nine individuals sharing the stage with me this morning.” She looked up and down the table, meeting the eyes of each escort flanking her on both sides. “I’m damn proud of these women. Before today, many of them hadn’t told their families, friends or colleagues that they moonlight as professional escorts. It took strength, courage and conviction for them to come forward today to stand with me. I’m tremendously grateful for their support, and I’m honored to not only call them friends, but sisters.”
Touched by her heartfelt words, the women smiled endearingly and blew kisses at her. Claudia, seated beside Zandra, squeezed her hand and mouthed encouragingly, Give ’em hell.
Shoulders squared, jaw set with steely determination, Zandra turned her head to address the crowd. “I’d like to start off by addressing the growing allegations that my escort agency, Elite For You Companions, is a brothel. It’s not. Let me repeat that for anyone who might not have heard me the first time. I’m not running a prostitution ring. My escorts are paid to provide companionship to clients, not sex. If Mayor Norwood would like to verify that claim, he doesn’t have to resort to hiring private investigators. If his wife doesn’t object, he’s more than welcome to set up dates with any of the women up here. Although,” Zandra added dryly, “after the way he’s behaved, he might not get a very warm reception.”
Laughter swept through the audience.
“Miss Kennedy,” challenged one local reporter, “I think it’s admirable that you speak so highly of your escorts, and you insist that they’re not having sexual relations with clients. But with all due respect, what else would you be expected to say? You’re not exactly going to stand up there and admit to any illegal activity that could send you to prison.”
“You’re right,” Zandra said smoothly. “I wouldn’t.”
“So you can understand why someone like me might take your claims of legitimacy with a grain of salt.”
“Someone like you?” Zandra raked the man with a coolly dismissive glance. “Yes.”
He frowned, not knowing whether he’d just been vindicated or insulted.
“Miss Kennedy,” shouted another reporter, “you seemed to suggest that Mayor Norwood engaged in underhanded behavior for political gain. Do you think he deserves to be reelected?”
“That’s for the voters to decide,” Zandra said mildly. “I don’t have an agenda. I’m not a politician, nor am I affiliated with any campaign. But the mayor brought me into this when he decided to use me as a political pawn. He was sadly mistaken if he thought his attacks on my reputation and business would go unchallenged.”
“Since you brought up your reputation, Miss Kennedy, would you like to address the elephant in the room?”