The Publicist's Plight (Book I in The Harrison Inc. Series) | ✓

Chapter Sixty Nine: Let Me In

**
I come into consciousness shortly after I pass out.

Claude has me on the sidewalk when I finally open my eyes. I hope that when I open my eyes, the last hour or so would be just a dream. But sadly, that isn't the case.

"Leslie," Claude tells me. "I need you to breathe."

This time, I take deeper breaths and keep a rhythm. In and out, in and out. My hands are tightly gripping Claude's forearms as I sit on the curb; I might fall over without his support.

"I'm sorry. It just...I just—"

"Don't apologize." He says to me, his blue eyes wise and trusting. "You need to get out of here; you've had enough for today."

"I can't just leave! Ingrid is probably still around here! Do you realize what she's done?"

Claude huffs before pulling out a phone from his pocket, cracked and covered in dirt but still functional.

"This phone look familiar to you?" he says in a patronizing tone. "I tracked her number again when I came here and it led me to some ditch behind Sebastian's house. It was a setup; she's gone by now."

This day just keeps getting better and better.

I curse under my breath and the many times I've been fooled. At this rate, I should be catching on to the unsuspecting being the culprit after all.

I have so many questions and concerns, and Claude knows this, too. But he also seems to know exactly how to handle this; it's scary how sure he is.

"Just go home. Turn off your phone and—"

"People need to know I've been set up, Claude! That...that this is all Garrett's fault, not mine! Ingrid and the journal..."

"I hate to break it to you, but I'm the only who believes you right now, Leslie. I'm the only one who will believe you. Do you want to play the victim card after everything that's happened so far?"

He's right. God, he's right. But if I try to explain what happened to Sebastian, he'll have to believe me. I mean, sure—the timing is too convenient for my word to sound truthful. But he has to.

I say Sebastian's name as a viable option, but Claude arches an eyebrow and hints at what we're both thinking. I hang my head down.

"Come on. I'll take you home."

I protest, begging him to let me try and fix everything. But him and I both know that this isn't fixable. As Claude drives me home in my car, I keep thinking of ways I could possibly mend everything that is going on with the tabloids and Sebastian's tainted name. Claude reminds me to stop thinking so much; I question if he is even human.

Before Claude leaves me at my apartment, I ask him questions that have been eating away at me.

"Where did Ingrid go?" I ask him. "Do you know?"

He sighs and leans against my couch. "The only way to find out would be to ask Garrett himself."

We both know that won't work.

"Am I supposed to just sit here and let Garrett win? I mean, I am the publicist after all; it's my job to...to fix things like this!"

"Something like this? It isn't. You just stay put for a couple of hours, alright?"

I know I should trust in Claude's judgment. He's a secretive man who knows how to handle things in ways I don't want to know. He's still Sebastian's cousin, though; his loyalties must be to him.

Claude leaves me. I'm surrounded in silence...well, silence and the company of Pedro. I pace my living room over and over again and try to suppress my thoughts, but they only succeed at ruining me. Ingrid; Judas. That's what she is. But am I any better, being the one who gave the journal to her in the first place?