Today is going to be an amazing day!
• • •
I FEEL LIKE THAT Rhianna song—work, work, work. All day long, Carter and I move through our schedule of one high-powered client after the next, solving problems as we go. I kind of feel a little unstoppable today. I have that gut feeling everything is about to work out just the way it’s supposed to, even though on my way uptown this morning there was another cache of tabloids all featuring Senator Chancellor splashed all over them. But then again, there’s nothing new there. Every morning, titles like “Jake’s Big Snake Tell-All” or “My Night in the Sexy Senator’s Bed” grace the front pages of every publication.
Jules even has to cover him often, as her job as a major cable news anchor requires it. Thankfully, Jules is a class act. She only covers the election and his work as a U.S. Senator. She wouldn’t lower herself to common gossip.
I’ve just finished with another client in the conference room and am heading back to my corner office when Carter stops me in the hallway.
“Hey, Clark,” he calls out, making me smile.
“What’s up, Carter?”
“I need your lunch order for the deli,” he says. “And this was left on my desk for you.”
“That spinach and berry salad that I can’t seem to stay away from. With some grilled chicken please. And what’s this?” I ask as I take the plain manila envelope from his hands.
“I have no idea,” he says with a shrug. “I should have lunch in your office in thirty.”
“Sounds good. Thanks.” I make my way back into my office and shut the door behind me. I drop the envelope on top of my desk and sit down in my chair. My feet ache from my power shoes, but I don’t care. The pain keeps me aware of my surroundings, and right now my Spidey senses are dinging away as I stare at the sealed envelope in front of me.
I carefully pick it up. It doesn’t feel very heavy. I take a deep breath and roll my shoulders back. It’s probably nothing. But it doesn’t feel like nothing. I slide a delicately polished fingernail under the seal and lift the flap. I pull out a single sheet of paper with a short, typed note on it and find I was right all along; this isn’t nothing. This is bad. It’s so very bad.
Today is not amazing!
“No. No, no, no, no, no!” I say as I shake the envelope and a stack of glossy pictures falls out on top of the note. I can already see what they’re of, and it doesn’t surprise me like it should. I can still feel his hand burning its imprint onto the skin of my ass. One look at my face and my arousal is there for all to see, not to mention the outline of my hard nipples pressing against the silk of my favorite little black dress. My worst fears have been imagined. It looks like last night I accidentally became another notch in the bedpost of Jacob Monroe Chancellor, and all because of a carelessly dropped dessert spoon.
He looks like he wanted you for dessert.
This can’t be happening. My hands shake as I flip through picture after picture. How could this have happened? I’ve been so careful. I have meticulously watched every move I have ever made throughout my entire life. I never drink too much or eat too much. I have never partaken in recreational pharmaceuticals or otherwise. I don’t stay out late and party. And every lover I’ve ever had has been not only respectable but also discrete—hell, the last two signed Non-Disclosure Agreements—and if I’m being honest, a little boring. Actually, my life is more than a little boring. So boring that I just don’t know how this could have even happened.
My heart is beating so fast in my chest I feel like I might be sick. Drops of sweat are trickling down from my temples and between my breasts, and my skin is flushed hot. And not in a good way. Not in the way it flushed last night when the sexy senator gripped my ass in his strong hand like a man who knew what he wanted to do with it. And for a split second last night, I wanted him like I have never wanted a man before. Crap.
But anyone looking in the windows of my palatial corner office would see exactly what I want them to. This is what I show the world every day, that I am calm, cool, and collected. I am the master of my world. I keep myself poised and in control no matter what. I don’t play around. I have worked way too hard for my career. My reputation precedes me all over town—and this town is an important one.
I let the stack of glossy drug store one-hour prints fall on top of the plain manila envelope they came in, where it sits on top of my mahogany desk. In secret, I call it my fancy desk. It was my dad’s desk in his office at his own law firm, and when I was a little girl, I used to say the ornate carvings on the front were “fancy.” It sits proud with its elegant scroll work along the edges.
I didn’t grow up like this. My parents are respected attorneys here in New York, but I made the family name a commodity in high-power circles where they need me and desperately want to know me.
I recoil from the envelope as if it’s a rattlesnake sitting on my desk and not the stack of worthless paper that it is. But my conscience whispers that it’s not worthless. This envelope of pictures could be very valuable in the right—or should I say wrong—hands. There are plenty of people here in New York who would just love to get their hands on this caliber of ammunition to use against me.
This package was sent to my office by courier with my name type-printed on the front and a note inside written in thick, block letters.
I’ll be in touch.
Don’t say a word.
I’m sure if I took it to the police, there would be no fingerprints either. But I can’t do that anyway. If I go to the police, this will be all over town and it will ruin my reputation. I am the attorney no one can touch. I am who the powerful go to when they need someone to pull their fat out of the fryer, and I have worked very hard to become that person. I trade in power and money every day behind closed doors and use those commodities to secretly help those who would never be able to help themselves—the poor and downtrodden. I’m like the freaking Statue of Liberty herself, and this mess has the potential to ruin everything. How ironic that my carefully crafted house of cards is about to come down with a few pictures of me in the arms of a well-known man.
The worst part: I didn’t even do it. Sure, he held me for a minute. Probably longer than he should have, but I tripped. That was it. And now it’s going to ruin everything.
I tap the red-painted sole of my black patent leather Louboutins on the carpet. It’s the only outward sign of my distress, and I keep that shit thoroughly hidden behind my desk. Now the question is, how do I proceed? I need to figure out what to do to keep my world from crashing down and fast.
I pick up my cellphone—the latest model that hasn’t even been announced yet—and slide my carefully manicured index finger up the dark glass. It scans my face and unlocks. I scroll through my contacts until I see the one I don’t want to dial with every fiber of my being. I could laugh, because four hours ago, I was planning on reaching out to his people for an all-too-different reason. I stare it down like it’s a bomb ticking down on the clock every second before it explodes in my face—just like I know this decision will later—before I finally force myself to take a deep breath and hit the Call button.
“Hello?” a whiskey-smooth voice answers. I hate that the sound of him makes me furious and my panties wet. This is definitely an unwelcome predicament.
“I need your help,” I say. The words taste like sawdust on my tongue and acid churns in my belly.
“What an interesting turn of events,” he replies, and I hate how damn happy he sounds. As if my fall from greatness is something to be celebrated. Of course, he doesn’t know my life is hanging precariously in the balance. How could he?
“Don’t sound so smug,” I warn my adversary. “This affects you as much as it does me.”
“Like I said—interesting. Meet me at the Magic Boarding House Tavern at eight o’clock,” he says. “I’ll be waiting.”
I open my mouth to issue a witty putdown, but I’m too late. A dial sound goes off in my ear, letting me know that slimeball hung up on
me. I want to scream. Everything is hanging by a thread, and I don’t even know how I can combat this. Clearly, the person who sent the pictures wants something from me. I just don’t know what. And why didn’t they just tell me straight out? Why make me wait?
My only hope now is that he can get me out of this mess. I know it’s going to cost me; I just hope it’s a price I’m able to live with. And also that I can stay strong and resist a certain U.S. Senator with less than questionable morals and his stupid dimples, because sex and blackmail certainly don’t mix, but in reality, I’m more than screwed.
“I took a chance on Chancellor’s Magic Stick.”
Chapter 5
Well and truly screwed
Hope is nothing but a bunch of bullshit.
I should have known better. I was surprised when Chancellor suggested a place as innocuous as the Magic Boarding House, a favorite haunt for gamer nerds from all over the world. It features a large game store where people can play or buy hard-to-find games. And it also has a dark tavern where anyone can grab a bite to eat. My mistake was in assuming that a place as family friendly as this one wouldn’t be the setting for my epic fall from grace. But now, as I move toward the back of the tavern part of the boarding house, I spy him sitting at a booth in the far back corner, shuffling a deck of cards like he grew up in the back room of an Atlantic City casino—which, to my knowledge, he did not. And I know I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have underestimated him and let my guard down.
I was surprised when he asked me to meet him here, but then again, any of my regular haunts would be absolutely packed with people we know or who want to know us, and we are here to solve our mutual problem with the press.
I watch as he tips his wrist back to look at the Tag Heuer watch on his arm to check the time. It’s ten minutes to eight, and I am early. I’d wanted to get here first to establish territory and gain the upper hand, but it looks like the senator beat me at my own game.
He slides out from the booth and smiles as he notices me approaching his table with a rueful smile playing on my lips at his power move. I teeter a little in my sky-high heels when he flashes me those panty-melting dimples. I still wore my signature Louboutins, because they make me feel powerful, and I am powerful, but I have replaced my Chanel suit with a pair of dark jeans and a dove-gray silk blouse with a matching dove-gray leather jacket over it. He looks at me like I think the Big Bad Wolf looked at Little Red Riding Hood, and I swallow back a nervous laugh that threatens to bubble up to the surface.
I need to keep my mind in the game in order to win this round with Senator Chancellor.
“Hello, Grace,” he says as he leans in and places a sweet kiss on my cheek before motioning toward the booth. “Have a seat.”
“Hello, Senator Chancellor,” I reply as I slip my jacket from my shoulders and place it on the bench seat beside me with my purse on top of it after I slide in. I toy with the small folded menu in front of me instead of meeting the watchful gaze of the man seated across from me. He makes me nervous and I don’t know why—or I do know why, but I’m refusing to put words to the emotions he stirs in me. This shy schoolgirl isn’t me. I am a “take life by the balls and forge my own path” kind of a woman, and it’s time she showed up to the party.
“Have you ever been here before?” he asks me, and I finally look up at his handsome face.
“No,” I reply softly. “Have you?”
He smiles what I can only assume is a genuine smile, because it’s not one I see on him often, before he answers me. “I meet friends here at least once a month.”
The look on my face must show my surprise at his answer, because he throws his head back and laughs. It’s one of the nicest sounds I have ever heard, and watching his whole face light up like that while the always-ready posture of his body relaxes just a tiny bit is one of the sexiest I have ever seen. It’s in this moment that I know I could give in to him and it would be amazing. But just as amazing as it would be, I also know it would be devastating.
“I do have friends, you know,” he says with a smile.
“You do?” I question as I try to pose my face in a faux-shocked expression.
“I do.” He smiles so that his twin dimples wink at me like stars glittering in the sky. Good Lord, there is something about this man. There’s just… more to him and I can’t help but want it even though I shouldn’t.
“Who?” I continue to play along, and the banter is so easy and fun that part of me wonders why I have kept him at arm’s length for years. Why haven’t I given in to this pull between us?
“Rick, for one—” he starts to answer.
“And where is your delightful henchman tonight?” I ask, blinking my eyes innocently.
“One, Rick isn’t that bad,” he manages to say with a straight face.
“He really is,” I say on a laugh. Clearly, their friendship has desensitized him to his friend’s evil political deeds as his campaign mercenary.
“There’s more to Rick than meets the eye,” he says cryptically.
“Of that, I am absolutely sure of.”
“And two, I’m allowed to go out without him from time to time,” he adds. I look over his shoulder and see two of his regular Secret Service agents standing with their backs against the wall, watching for anyone who might want to do the senator harm. He might be allowed to go out without Rick Donovan from time to time, but he isn’t allowed to go anywhere alone. Ever. That thought makes me feel kind of sad for him.
“I suppose you are,” I tell him softly. “I bet you’re a heavily sought-after man.”
“I am,” he sighs.
“And you come here to unwind?” I surmise.
“I do. Rick and I have been meeting friends here for a while now,” he answers honestly.
“You mean women.” I laugh when he rolls his eyes. “What? You know you’re popular—”
“No, we do not meet women here,” he says in a rather disgruntled fashion. “The Magic Boarding House Tavern is sacred and not to be defiled.”
“So, you come here to what? Play Magic?” I ask incredulously.
“Yes, I do,” he responds to my question, mirroring my wide stare with one of his own.
“With Rick?” Somehow, I can’t picture the most feared man in politics playing a nerdy card game with friends. The idea of him in a relaxed environment is jarring. Like two puzzle pieces that don’t quite fit together.
“With Rick and sometimes Wes and Lee, but not Wes so much, because he recently got married and likes to stay close to home,” he explains.
“And you don’t like that?”
“No, I’m happy for him. Claire is a great woman. We should all be so lucky, and after she almost died last year,” he explains, “I would stay close to her and home if she were mine too.”
“You don’t mean Claire Goodnite—the detective from New Jersey who was kidnapped as a young girl?” I ask.
“The one and only.”
“Wow, I read about her in the Post last year. You really know her?”
“Yeah, her brother and her husband are friends of mine,” he explains. “We served together on the same team when we were in the Navy.”
“Wow.” I knew Chancellor had served as a Navy SEAL, but I didn’t know he was also connected to local heroes as well. I guess I should have paid more attention to him instead of just running for the hills every time he walked into a room.
“So, you said you have a problem….” He trails off, breaking me free from my wayward thoughts. This is good. I need him to help me stay focused so I can solve my problem and move on with my life. Then Jake Chancellor and his magic penis won’t be a threat to me anymore, because I’ll be hiding in some remote village in South America and he will be fully entrenched in the Oval Office. Then I can come back to New York and forget this whole time in my life ever happened, right?
I let out a frustrated sigh before brushing back a blonde curl that has fallen out of place across my forehead. I look at him again, sitting acros
s the table from me. He’s looking back at me like he thinks I’m adorable like a little kitten. But this kitten will kill you in your sleep if you’re not careful. So he better watch out. I won’t pull any punches with him.
“Grace?” he asks when I still don’t answer.
I push out another uneasy breath and force myself to respond to his early question. “Yeah, Senator. I have a problem.”
“Well, it can’t be that bad,” he hedges. It’s as if he can’t even fathom the idea I could be in as much trouble as I currently am.
“It is.”
“And it involves me?” he asks.
“Yeah.”
“Care to explain?”
I really don’t want to answer him. God, if only I could go to bed and when I wake up in the morning it would all be a bad dream. But this is a dream I can’t wake up from. This nightmare is my real life.
“I wish I didn’t have to,” I say cryptically. I roll my bottom lip into my mouth and bite down hard.
“Go on.”
“Just…” I toss a manila envelope on the table in front of him. “Here.”
He stares at the package in front of him before reaching for it. Chancellor flips back the flap and peers inside. He couldn’t possibly know what’s in there. That his career and mine are about to take a major hit. And then he reaches in and pulls out a stack of pictures. He flips through them and thoroughly investigates each picture of me and himself in a pretty sexy clinch. Each image is hotter than the next. I barely resist the urge to squirm in my seat just thinking of how we look together like that.
“Well.” He forces out the words before clearing his throat and shifting a little in his seat. I know how he feels. The pictures are…moving, to say the least. “Those are some pictures.”
“And the note,” I add.
Chancellor looks back in the envelope and pulls out a single piece of computer paper with a handwritten note on it. He looks up at me with questions in his eyes, and believe me, I have them too. But I don’t have any answers for either of us. How I wish I had answers.
The Senator's Secret (A Presidential Affair Book 1) Page 4
