11
Cissy, Lincoln, and I sit in a limousine on our way to Adair’s so-called emergency press conference. Lincoln’s in a fine mood, especially since minutes ago, he almost met my inner lust demon again. He starts rolling the windows up and down, picking through the wet bar, and in general playing with every button, lever, and knob in the limo. He even rolls open the skylight and stands up through it as we drive along. I pull on his pant leg.
“Down here, honey.”
He crouches over. “Wow. Not that I don’t like riding Bastion, but limousines are phenomenal.”
Cissy and I exchange a look of disbelief. Sure, Lincoln lives underground in a locked-down version of the Middle Ages, but I figured he’d ridden a limo at least once before. After all, he is royalty.
“Have you ever been in a limo before?
