"Thanks," I say, pulling a mug from the cupboard, filling it with water and sticking it in the microwave.
Beth prefers coffee, while I prefer tea. Our morning routine consists of us sitting in our decrepit chairs, drinking our respective beverages, and gossiping about anything and everything from what we saw on TV the night before to Beth's co-workers. It's usually my favorite part of the day because the focus is never on me.
That's not going to be the game plan today.
"So who is this mystery man?" she asks as I take the seat across from her, sliding her mug of pitch-black coffee in front of her.
I want to laugh at her choice of words. I called him by the same name last night before I knew who he was.
"His name is Johnathan."
"And..."
"So here's where it gets tricky. He's a senator."
Beth's jaw pops open slightly, but she recovers by taking a sip of her coffee.
"We met at the club last night and hit it off. The power went out, and he found me in the dark and rescued me," I say making it sound more romantic than it actually was.
"You're such a little skank." She smirks at me. "How was it?"
A smile slowly spreads across my face as I try to decide how to answer her question. "Amazing," I finally say. "I'm seeing him again tonight."
"And Joseph?"
"He's not happy about it. I had to go back for my purse this morning and ran into him."
"I can only imagine the look on his face."
"I'd rather not. It was hateful. I'm definitely not welcome back at the club."
"Who cares? You were using him anyway. And this new guy, the senator," she says, lowering her voice dramatically, "he's nice?"
"He is, but I'm not sure it's going to be a long-term thing."
"Well, enjoy it while it lasts. I bet there's a few perks to dating him."
"Not good ones yet. The press swarmed us this morning when we were leaving his hotel. My parents saw me on TV. They've been getting calls non-stop since then. My mom was less than enthusiastic about it."
"Oh, no," she teases. "Did Mama Anderson pull out your full name, Abby girl?"
"Shut up. You know she did. And my dad hates this guy, I guess."
"Well, that settles it. You need to drop him like a bad habit. If your family doesn't like him, it'll never work out."
I get that Beth is teasing me, but she knows how important my parents are to me. I want them to be happy for me, even if they think this relationship is real when it's not. Their approval means a lot to me. Knowing that my father doesn't like him kills me.
Shaking my head, I remind myself this is only temporary. A few days and I can give Daddy the good news that I'm not with Johnathan anymore. It'll brighten his week, and then maybe the phone will stop ringing off the hook.
I want to tell Beth this relationship isn't headed where she thinks it is, but I can't bring myself to say the words. I already feel like a slut. For starters, I had sex with two guys in one day, within hours of each other. I went back to Johnathan's hotel before I even knew his name. Telling her this is all for show, to save both of us from scrutiny, will only make me look worse.
For now, I'm going to keep that to myself. When things dissolve, I'll fill her in. It'll make for a great story to laugh at over a bottle of wine next weekend. Until then, my relationship, or lack thereof, with him is for me to know and everyone else can speculate all they want.
Eight
Johnathan
From the sounds of it, Amelia did not enjoy her day with Gina. I get it. Gina's a bit rough around the edges when you first meet her. She's brash and direct. She doesn't sugarcoat things, even when she should. I'm sure she gave Amelia a piece of her mind more than once today about our new relationship.
"She's just mean. I can't believe you have someone like that running your campaign. Is that how it works in politics?"
She's been bitching about her for the last ten minutes. We're almost to the restaurant now, and then she'll have to keep her opinions to herself.
"Sometimes. Listen, I know she's hard to get along with, but once we leave the car, I need you to make sure that everything you say is positive. Try and keep a smile on your face. You never know who might be watching or listening to our conversation.” Taking her hand in mine, I try to keep my voice as calm and soothing as possible. She’s highly irritated right now, something I’ll have to address with Gina later on. I can’t have the press read into her mood as unhappiness.
"I have a table reserved in the back and have requested a specific waiter, but I can't control the people who are sat around me. Most of the time, they'll leave us alone. There are always a few who want to meet me, supporters of my campaign. I'll try and keep those conversations short. Just know that as much as the spotlight is on me, it's also on you tonight.
"People will want to know who you are. Why I'm with you. They'll be curious. You don't have to answer any questions you don't want to, so please don't feel obligated."
"What do you want me to say to them? I wouldn't even know how to answer their questions," she says, cutting me off.
"You can tell them we're friends, or you can say we're dating, whatever you prefer. If they ask your name, only give them your first name."
She nods in understanding as the car comes to a stop in front of the restaurant.
"Are you ready?" I ask, smiling at her and taking her hand.
"Not really, but I don't have a choice. I agreed to this."
"Dating me will never be easy, but being an election year makes it ten times harder. Just remember you can back out at any time. I would understand."
Actually, I'd be pissed off. After watching the news this morning, my plans have changed. The public seems to like Amelia. They want to know more about her. They like us together. Hell, my approval rating went up after the story was run.
If she'll agree to it, if I can convince her that life by my side isn't all cameras in her face and people shouting questions at her, I plan to take her back home with me. At least until the election is over. After that will depend on how I feel about her.
All I know is, for now, I need to play nice. A gentleman in public. What happens behind closed doors is another story. I'd enjoy a replay of last night if she's up for it.
That's the best part of my new plan. Having her in my bed every night. Taking her anytime I want.
Gina seems to think she's going to be a distraction from my campaign. I tried to explain to her that, with Amelia by my side, campaigning would be easier. If the public likes her, they like me. Results don't lie.
I also told her to play nice this afternoon, and she didn't. That's a conversation we'll be having on the flight home tomorrow.
Garcia opens the door, and I set out first. I'm pleasantly surprised there are no reporters standing and waiting outside the restaurant. I was half-expecting the crowd that greeted us this morning.
"Senator Lang," the maître d’ says as I walk through the front door, Amelia on my arm.
"Good to see you, Charles. How's your mother?"
"Well, sir. I'll be sure to tell her you asked about her. Right this way," he replies, motioning with his hand for us to follow him. The small crowd waiting in the lobby groans in unison as we walk away. I'm sure they've been waiting awhile for a table. Its times like this I enjoy knowing the right people in the right places.
"Colby will be over with your wine in a moment, sir. Enjoy your evening." Charles excuses himself.
"Come here often?" she asks, her voice barely audible over the low hum of voices.
"As often as I can. They have an amazing wine selection, and the chef always prepares something special for me."
I'm gloating slightly, but not because I'm proud of the simple facts. It's because I want her to see the benefits of being in my life. Of the life I could provide her with if she accepts my offer.
"I see," she states flatly. Her nerves are showing. She keeps scanning the room, averting her eyes if anyone is looking in
our direction.
"Take a deep breath, Amelia, and smile. Try to enjoy yourself. You look stunning in that dress. People are bound to stare at you."
My dick went rock hard when she walked in the room wearing a silver, satin, floor-length dress. It hugs her body in all the right places. It sits high on her chest, so she's fully covered, but dips low in the back, so she's not wearing a bra. Thankfully it's a warm night because it's thin enough that when I go to rip it off her later, it'll practically fall apart in my hands. Just like her dress last night. If Gina did one thing right today, it was putting her in that dress.
"I'm sorry. I'm not normally nervous in front of people. You can't be if you want to be a singer. It feels different, though. When I'm on stage, I'm able to ignore them and just sing. I get lost in the music. But here—"
"Look at me, Amelia. Focus on me. Focus on my eyes. Get lost in there if you need a safe place. Block everyone else out but me."
She listens well. Everything I ask her to do, she does without hesitation. Last night and right now. There's no fear in her eyes. She trusts me, and I plan to use that to my advantage.
After Colby pours us each a glass of the rich and robust red wine, I take the opportunity to draw her in even more. The wine will help loosen her up a little, help her relax. In case the wine’s not enough, I take her free hand in mine and rub tiny circles in her palm.
"You know, aside from tonight and this morning, my life is not usually like this. I'm a normal person. I live in an average-sized house. I do everyday things like shop for groceries. Yes, people recognize me on the streets, but I live there, in the same community as them, so it's not such a big deal.
"What you've experienced, this is all for show. This is what the public wants to see. Me, out to dinner with a beautiful woman. They want something to talk about because the idea of me sitting around my house, watching TV in sweatpants, isn't as newsworthy."
"Are you trying to convince me you're just an Average Joe?"
"I shouldn't have to convince you. Don't you believe me?"
"Not really. You ride around in a limo, Johnathan. There's nothing average about that."
"As I’ve said, it's not like this back home."
Wait for it. She's taking a sip of wine. It looks like she enjoys the flavor. She's smiling against her glass as she takes another sip.
"If you don't believe me, why don't you come back with me tomorrow," I suggest, going in for the kill.
You can see the moment it all registers in her mind. Her hand starts to shake slightly as she places her glass back down on the table. I reach for her to steady her as she stares at me in disbelief.
"Come home with me, Amelia. Let me show you my real life," I beg. There's a first time for everything. I don't plan on making a habit of this shit, but if it helps convince her to come back with me, it'll be worth it.
"Are you serious?"
"Yes."
"But I thought—"
"I know what you thought. Plans change all the time. I'd like to change this plan."
She shifts uncomfortably in her seat but doesn't pull away from me. Just as she's about to answer me, a woman and her husband walk up to the table and interrupt. They apologize for intruding—they always do—introduce themselves, and shake our hands. Amelia is smiling brightly at them, a look of excitement on her face.
That's my girl.
Put on a good show.
The gentleman asks me a few questions while the woman talks with Amelia, complimenting her on her dress. I've almost reached my breaking point of pleasantries when Colby interrupts and saves the day, placing our food on the table. Thankfully the couple takes the hint and excuses themselves.
"You see that," I say as Colby refills our wine glasses. "That isn't normal. That doesn't happen at home. I could have a five-course meal and never get interrupted. Here, we didn't even make it through half a glass of wine."
Amelia nods as she takes a sip of wine but doesn't comment. Instead, she picks up her fork and begins eating her meal in silence. I can't get a read on her. Most women wear their emotions where I can clearly see them. Either facial expressions or body language. Amelia's giving me nothing right now to indicate whether or not she'll accept my offer.
My gut tells me not to press her. She seems to have a level head. If she's thinking it over, weighing her decision, pushing her to make one will influence her decision, probably not in my favor.
Changing the subject, I begin asking her questions about herself. Where she learned to sing. Who were her biggest influences? I ask about her family and find out she's an only child as well. It doesn't surprise me at all. She's independent and strong-willed just like I am.
By the time dessert is being served, she stops my interrogation.
"Give me a really good reason why I should," she says. I don't have to ask what she's referring to. It's all I've been thinking about the entire night.
"I'm not sure if you've noticed, but I like you, Amelia. A lot. I'd like to get to know you better. I'd like to show you that my world is not all about photographs and news articles. I'm more than just a senator, I'm a person. I'd like to show you my life."
Too much. I laid it on too thick. She's smarter than that. She's not going to fall for this little ploy. Maybe I should tell her the truth. It's an option. I mean, maybe she'll get a rise out of it knowing that doing the walk of shame after a night spent fucking made her look good, made people want to know her. It made them notice her.
That's what she wants, after all. She wants to get noticed. Not this way, but maybe that's what she could get out of this.
She helps me get reelected. I help her connect with important people in the music industry. Her voice will do all the work after that.
Honesty has never been my strong suit, so I give her another minute before I change directions and take that route. Only, she doesn't give me the option.
"One condition," she finally says.
"What's that?"
Please don't let it be anything I can't agree to.
"You have to meet my parents." What? Why? That makes no sense. "My father doesn't trust you, not as a politician and not after seeing me with you on the news this morning. I want him to see you are a regular person so they don't worry when I tell them I'm going to stay with you for a while."
Meet her parents. I can agree to that, I think. I'm not very good with parents, but I'll do everything I can to get in their good graces if it means winning this election. The only way I can win this election is with the help of their daughter.
"Of course. I wouldn't want them to worry about you while you're gone."
"You really are different than I thought you would be. You were all dark and mysterious at the club, sneaking into the dressing room. And then, after that, taking charge and making good on all your promises."
Shit. Her words are turning me on. She needs to stop or else I'm going to walk out of here with a noticeable bulge in my pants.
"Then, today, taking care of my situation with Joseph and making sure I got home safe. Taking me to this amazing dinner and now... now you want me to come stay with you, to see where you live. I don't get you, Johnathan. You're still a mystery to me, but I must admit, I like it. I like not knowing what will happen next. It's exciting."
Leaning across the table and taking her hands in mine, I kiss each of them and then whisper so only she can hear.
"And I like that the sound of your voice just turned me on. We're going to need another bottle of wine before I can stand up from the table thanks to your dirty remarks, my love."
A fierce blush spreads across Amelia's cheeks, and a giggle escapes her. She covers her mouth, but it's loud, and a few tables close to us turn in our direction.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I was just thinking about your little predicament, and I couldn't help but laugh."
"Yeah, well," I start, releasing one hand and reaching under the table. When my hand meets silk, her laugh comes to an abrupt halt. "Two can play at that game."
"If that's how you want to play—"
Amelia's words are interrupted by a camera flash. I knew things were too good to be true. There are three reporters in the lobby taking pictures as Charles attempts to hold them back.
They've killed my hard-on, but that also means we can leave now.
Nine
Amelia
They returned. I knew they would. It was only a matter of time. Not to mention, we wanted them to see us together, right? That was the point of going out tonight.
To be seen.
To improve any negative image this morning may have brought on either of us.
After all, he has a campaign to run, and leaving the hotel with a strange woman that early in the morning could make him look back. And me... well, my parents already don't like him. At least they don't know the truth. Maybe, in some screwed up way, more press will help them to believe what I want them to.
Once we're safely inside the car, driving away from the restaurant, I let my smile fade. It was hard to pretend to be happy when that lady was talking to me and even harder to look pleasant when the reporters were peppering us with questions. Although the excitement coursing through my body may have helped propel me at that point.
He's changed our plans and pulled the rug out from under my feet. He wants me to go home with him, to show me the 'normal' life he leads. As much as I wanted to say yes, it scared me. To agree to leave here with him after only knowing him a day. And really, what do I know about him? Not as much as I'd like to. He could be a serial killer disguised as a senator.
It takes more than one night to really know a person.
There had to be another reason he wanted me to come home with him, so I tried to call him on it, to bluff him out. I asked him to meet my parents. No one in their right mind wants to meet a woman's parents unless they're serious about them. Hell, I've only brought one man home to meet them before now and that was in high school. I didn't have a choice.
Caught in the Storm Page 6
