Claimed By My Billionaire Ex

Chapter 22

LUCAS

As my limo pulled up to the press conference late that afternoon, I peered out of the tinted windows and shook my head.

Jessie had switched tactics with this event. He'd forgone the massive convention center in exchange for something more personal, choosing instead to rent out the second floor of one of Boston's most prolific museums. Instead of potential voters, he'd created an open door policy for the press.

Jessie didn't know it yet, but this was something he was going to regret.

What he'd given up in venue size, he'd made up for in extravagance. He'd converted the press conference into a black tie event, similar to the kind of party one would hold after they'd won the election, not the kind they held before.

But if that wasn't the definition of Jessie's narcissism, I'm not sure what else would define it.

There were many things I was dreading about tonight, but kicking Jessie down a peg was not one of them. I wasn't sure why it'd taken me this long to recognize his true nature, but just like pulling back the velvet curtain, now I couldn't unsee it.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at a text from Olive.

See you soon.

I clenched my jaw, unsure how to respond to that. Would she really show up? I highly doubted it, but either way, it wouldn't make any difference. As the culmination of my plan unrolled tonight, it would ultimately be my full responsibility, and that was independent of whether or not Olive and Claire showed up.

I exited the limo, cameras flashing, blinding me as I walked up the steps.

"Mr. Wilson! Lucas!"

Reporters shoved microphones in my face, but I ignored them. There would be a time and place to explain things later. Except I wouldn't be the one having to come up with something to say.

Jessie, on the other hand, was stopping to greet every person, shaking hands and spilling answers to questions that weren't even asked. The entire thing was a show that made no sense, especially since every single reporter and photographer would be invited inside once this outdoor charade finished.

"Lucas!" Jessie grinned, twisting around to shake my hand. "You ready for tonight?"

I shook his hand and slapped his shoulder. "Oh, Jessie, I think it's you whose not ready for tonight."

Jessie's hesitation at my answer was subtle, and he quickly covered it with laughter before anyone could notice.

Of course, Jessie was talking to the paparazzi, Jake Hall. "Yeah, Mr. Wilson," Jake asked. "Ready for tonight?"

I gave Jake a firm smile. "Fuck off, Jake."

With that, I climbed the rest of the steps and entered the museum. Passing the exhibits, I made my way to the second floor, where Jessie had set up a podium in front of a blank projector screen.

The few guests that he had invited and weren't part of the press swarmed like mosquitos, eager for a bite. As expected, they were all wealthy donors, awaiting the arrival of who they suspected would be Jessie's VP candidate. I watched the relief wash over their faces as they registered my arrival.

It was an expression I'd become accustomed to after all this time. Since I had money—more than most of them—it meant they wouldn't have to donate as much to gain a positive standing with the future White House.

"Lucas, there you are!" One of Jessie's aides pulled me aside. "So good to see you. Isn't this great. Are you ready?"

"Beyond ready," I smiled.