Somehow, I managed to make it down the hall and to my own office. I closed the door softly behind me, needing a moment to be alone in the quiet to sort my thoughts. Quiet. That’s what I need. I slip into the chair behind my desk and focus on just breathing in and out.
I’ve almost calmed my heart back to a healthy range when my cellphone, sitting face-up on my desk, rings flashing my mom and dad’s smiling faces as they stand in front of the Mendenhall Glacier in Alaska. I stare at it like it’s a living, breathing thing as it flashes and buzzes around on my desk. I know I can’t wait much longer. If it goes to voicemail, they will only get more desperate for my attention.
How could I have been so stupid? In the whirlwind mess that has become my life, I forget to mention to my parents that the cats and I were now living with a U.S. senator—fake relationship or otherwise?
I am in so much trouble.
“Hi, Mom,” I answer with false cheer in my tone. I hold my breath and hope to God they buy it.
“What the fuck is going on?” my dad thunders from the other end of the line. My dad was a brilliant attorney working for the county they still live in outside the city, ensuring that all children had access to vaccines and well-child exams. But before that, he was a Marine. He sounds like he’s still ready to charge into battle at a moment’s notice. I can count on one hand the number of times I had either worried him so badly or made him angry enough to speak in that way, with his emotions so close to the surface. Apparently, today I’m adding one more to the list.
“A lot.” I laugh into the phone. “It’s been a busy week.”
“I’ll say,” my mom mutters somewhere in the background.
“How long have you known Senator Chancellor?” my dad asks, and his tone is still not a happy one.
“I’ve known Jake since he first came home,” I answer. Fortunately, I never confided in my parents my complex feelings toward the man of the hour.
“And how long have you been involved with him?”
Shit. How do you make three days so plausible?
“It’s been a whirlwind,” I admit. “But it’s been building for some time.” There, that didn’t sound like I’ve lost my damn mind, did it?
“Did you have to move in with him?” Dad asks, and I can’t help but laugh. I’m thirty years old, and my dad still treats me like a fifteen-year-old virgin with her first boyfriend.
“Dad—” I start.
“I don’t want to hear it!” he shouts.
“She’s a grown woman, honey,” I hear my mom whisper to him.
“I know,” he says after he lets out an audible sigh. “We expect you both to be at dinner tomorrow night.”
“Dad, Jake is a very busy man,” I explain gently, while internally I am freaking the fuck out. This is not good. “He’s running a presidential campaign. Who knows where he might be tomorrow night?”
“I know where he’ll be,” my dad says confidently.
“Oh yeah?” I ask. “Where’s that?”
“Brooklyn.” I shouldn’t have asked. “See you both at six on the dot. Don’t keep your mother waiting.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“We love you,” Dad says gruffly.
“I love you too.”
“See you tomorrow.” And then he ended the call.
I was wrong. My life could get more complicated. And all the while, I’m still wondering when the other shoe will drop with my mysterious blackmailer. I haven’t heard anything from them since the original note was delivered to my office. I know real life isn’t anything like the old Magnum PI episodes I watch late at night, but something still seems… off. I think back to the stilted meeting with my boss and wonder if maybe the perpetrator is closer to home than I thought.
I would find out much too late that I should have been paying better attention.
“Will Love Last for the Eternal Playboy?”
Chapter 9
Better together
A knock sounds on the door of my office. I look at the small watch on my wrist and note it’s much later than I thought it was. After the call with my parents, I dove headfirst into my caseload and my charity work, unwilling to let my mind wander back to what a clusterfuck my life just became.
Another knock raps more forcefully on the door, reminding me that I did not acknowledge the last one. It can only be one person; everyone else is gone for the day.
“Come in,” I answer.
Jake pushes the door open with a frown on his face. He takes one look at me, and thunder rolls across his features. “Why aren’t you ready to go?”
“I lost track of time,” I answer. It’s true too, but he looks like he doesn’t believe me. “I’ll be ready in just a second. Let me grab my bag.”
That seems to mollify him, because his posture relaxes just a fraction and he nods. I quickly shut down my computer and tap my files into a neat stack before slipping them into my large tote bag. I grab my phone off the top of my desk and drop it in my bag before tucking my chair under the old wooden desk before turning around to come face-to-face with Jake holding my coat out for me. I slide my arms in one by one and let him pull it around my shoulders.
“Thank you,” I say to him, but he’s not done. Not by a long shot.
He rests his chin on my shoulder while he reaches around me to button up the three big buttons. The intimacy of my back being pressed to his front while he’s wrapped around me makes my knees weak and my breath catch.
With one hand pressed to my belly, the other glides up under my coat, under my skirt, and higher. I feel my body go rigid when I realize what he’s doing. His hand grazes my bare ass and squeezes. Hard.
“Mmm,” he hums. “My good girl.”
“Yes,” I whisper, and I’m both embarrassed and aroused. How could I let him turn me in knots like this? This woman isn’t me, and I don’t know how to proceed.
Jake slides his hand out from under my skirt and lets the material float back into place. His entire demeanor shows absolutely nothing. There is no sign he just had his hand up my skirt to see if I found a spare pair of panties to replace the ones he robbed me of this morning. His face is a mask of indifference as he holds a hand out to me. I reach out and take it like a lifeline and let him guide me from the room.
Gus is waiting for us in the hallway. “Good evening, ma’am.”
“Good evening, Gus.”
Together, the three of us ride the elevator to the ground floor, Jake and me in the back and Gus standing watch in front of us. It all seems so normal. Like he holds my hand in the elevator every night and would be more than happy to do so every night for the rest of his life. And I almost believe the lie when the elevator dings our arrival on the main floor. I wish I was paying more attention, not lost in the fog of “what if this was my actual life?” Because then I would have noticed the press camped out on the front steps of the building.
Lights flash before my eyes, and once again, I’m temporarily blinded. I’m stunned. I’m stuck, my feet cemented to the ground. And once again, Jake smiles his “I’m everybody’s friend” smile and loads me into the waiting SUV. I don’t take a solid breath until the door closes behind me.
How could I have possibly thought I could do this? That I could immerse myself in his world for any length of time? That I could put myself out there for mass public consumption day after day? I was so incredibly stupid.
And then out the corner of my eye I see him looking at me. How does he do it? I wonder if it ever bothers him to be owned body and soul by the American people. Or is this his true calling?
Regardless of the thoughts and questions bouncing around in my head like a pinball in a game machine, the ride back to his brownstone is a silent one. But this time when the car pulls up out front, I see the paparazzi waiting outside. I know what they want. I roll my shoulders back and clutch the handles of my tote bag tight in my hands.
Gus gets out of the front seat and prowls around. I know there are other protection officers around the p
roperty; I just can’t see them, and they mean to keep it that way. Jake pushes the door open and steps out. He turns back to the car, where I am waiting for my turn to get out, and he holds a hand out to help me. I swear you can hear a collective swoon go up through the crowd. Jake Chancellor, knight in shining armor, U.S. Senator, and all around Prince Charming.
I take his offered hand and look up into his bright blue eyes with a teasing grin on my face. I carefully let my bag drop down in front of me to block anyone who might get a crotch shot. This engagement game is supposed to clean up our images, not set off a nuclear bomb a la Lindsay Lohan.
“Senator, over here!”
“Grace! Grace!”
Our names are shouted in every direction, and it’s beyond daunting, but I don’t let it show that they’re getting to me. I plaster a sweet smile on my face and give a little wave as Jake leads me up the stairs to the brownstone’s front door. He looks back at me, and pride washes over his features. It surprises me that he’s wearing his emotions for all to see. And also, it warms my heart just a little.
I smile sweetly to him. To anyone watching, we look like the perfect couple, so in love with each other. He looks at me with pride and adoration, and in my eyes shines a love for the ages. Too bad it’s all fake.
Before I have a chance to react, Jake sweeps me into his arms and plants a passionate kiss on my lips in front of everyone. But while the move was no doubt calculated, the result could not have been. The second his mouth opens over mine, I clutch the lapels of his jacket in my hands and sink into him. The tether on his clothing is the only thing keeping me from falling right through the stairs into a big heaping puddle.
Before the kiss can really take off, Jake pulls back with a look of regret on his face and once again takes my hand as he opens the front door for me to enter. He follows behind me and Gus after him, shutting the door and keying in the code for the alarm.
“You did good,” he says to me in a cool tone. When the silence surrounds us, I stiffen, realizing that the kiss, the smiles, all of it was for the press and none of it was actually for me. Again, stupid.
“Thanks,” I say for lack of anything else. Harlow is padding down the stairs, and I scoop her up into my arms and bury my face in her fur. Her happy purring goes a long way to soothe my frayed nerves. I turn to make my way into the kitchen to find something to eat, kicking off my heels at the bottom of the stairs on my way.
“Grace,” he starts.
“What?”
“I’d like to join you,” he says quietly.
I shrug. “It’s your house.”
He lets out a sign born of nothing but frustration and follows on my heels into the kitchen. I set the cat down on the floor, and she scampers off to find one of her furry friends to play with.
“What do you feel like?” he asks me.
“I don’t know,” I answer before rolling my lip between my teeth.
“I can order Chinese or I can show you how awesome my scrambled egg skills really are,” he says, and I can’t help but laugh.
“I do love a good scrambled egg,” I tell him hesitantly, and it looks like he finally relaxes. He smiles a bright smile when he answers me, and it rings real. He’s happy.
“If you play your cards right, I might even add some cheese and roll it up in a tortilla.” He laughs.
“Now you’re speaking my language.” Of all of the different versions of Jake Chancellor, this one puts me most at ease.
We chat a little, but not a lot while Jake scrambles a panful of eggs. He’s as good at it as he claimed to be. I sit on a barstool while he pushes them around the pan one more time before finally scooping out a big chunk and artfully rolling it into a tortilla sprinkled with cheese. I carry our plates to the table, and Jake pulls a bottle of wine from the fridge and carries it to the table with two glasses.
Again, we sit casually in the kitchen and eat quietly. I know the time has come. I need to tell him about the Conners case and see if his dad really has reason for wanting me to take it. And also, tell him I have to go to dinner at my parents’ house tomorrow night, and we can come up with an excuse for why he can’t go.
“So… umm…” I start before clearing my throat and beginning again. “How was your day?”
Jake smiles at me. “It was all right.”
“Oh… umm. Good.” Shit. That wasn’t exactly a stellar segue into an open dialogue. “Anything interesting happen today?”
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” he answers.
I’m beginning to sweat. There’s no way I can tell him about dinner or the fact that I have a sneaking suspicion his dad is trying to manipulate my life. I’d almost wonder if he was behind the mysterious package, but the idea is so laughable. Why would he blackmail me with his own son? That’s crazy, right? But still. There is more here than meets the eye, but what is it?
“Is there something you want to tell me, Grace?”
Shit. I swallow the bite of eggs I had just shoveled in my mouth and it gets stuck on the way down. I gulp a big swig of wine to wash it down. I guess now or never.
“Uhh… yes, there is,” I answer. We sit there, not eating for who knows how long, just staring at each other before I realize he’s waiting on me to continue. “So, my parents called me today.”
“That’s nice,” he says as he leans back in his chair with his wine glass hanging from his fingertips. Gone is the sort of shy, friendly man, and in his place is the predator.
“They… umm…”
“Yes?”
“They want us to come over for dinner tomorrow night. I’ll come up with an excuse for you,” I tell him quickly. “I already told them how busy you are.”
“I’ll clear my schedule.”
“They’ll understand. Don’t worry. But I’ll probably be home late.”
“I said I’ll clear my schedule.”
“Oh. Really?” I can’t help but ask. I wish I’d been able to hold my tongue, because he smiles a knowing grin that spreads across his face, turning me inside out.
“Yeah.”
“Oh… well. Thank you.”
“Anything else?” he asks, and the happiness in my chest slips away.
“Yeah,” I say softly like I swallowed something bitter. What if this goes even deeper than I thought? Or worse, what if Jake doesn’t believe me? Will our tentative truce be broken?
“What is it?” He looks suddenly alert. This Jake is all ears. Great.
“Today, I was handed a case that should be a simple divorce, but there’s something about it that just doesn’t feel right,” I answer. “A lot of things aren’t adding up.”
“I’m sure you’ll figure it all out,” he says confidently like that solves the entire matter.
I let out a frustrated breath. “There’s more to it than that.”
“How so?”
“I never would have taken a client like this,” I explain as best as I can without breaking attorney-client privilege. “He is immoral, unethical, and I’m pretty sure acting illegally in some ways.”
“So walk away,” he says as if I hadn’t already tried that. I love when men think they can solve all of the world’s problems with a single sentence. How nice it must be to feel like Lord and Master of their entire domain. If only it were that easy.
“I tried,” I tell Jake. “But the managing partner of my firm made sure to let me know that not only is he unwilling to let me walk away from the case but also that your father wouldn’t be happy if I did. And the more I think about it, the more it feels like something is wrong.”
If I was paying closer attention and not lost in my own thoughts, I would have seen his body stiffen before he asks, “Who is the client?”
“Jesse Conners.”
“Stay far fucking away from him and my father,” Jake growls, and it startles me so much I almost jump right out of my seat.
“W-what?” I ask wondering where I missed the change in Jake’s demeanor.
“It’s a setup.” He does
n’t offer any other explanation. His word is final, and in his world, I’m sure it is. “Just stay far away from them and I’ll take care of the rest.”
“And about your dad?” I prompt. What the hell is going on here? A setup? A week or even three days ago, I would have said that that was ridiculous, but now that I’m being threatened with a stack of compromising photos, I can’t help but wonder if anything is possible, or worse, if the two are connected to each other.
“He’s a monster, and if you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay away from him,” he says, his voice low and vibrating with anger. I feel a shiver snake up my spine. My grandmother would say that someone had just stepped on my grave and I’ve never felt like the saying was more true than right now.
“Oh, okay.”
Jake scoops up our dishes and tosses them in the sink a little harder than necessary and I’m honestly surprised that they don’t break before holding a hand out to me. “Let’s go to bed.”
Panic seeps into every corner of my body. I don’t want to go to bed with this man when he’s this angry. I’m not going to lie; he’s scaring me more than a little bit right now. Maybe with some time, he’ll cool down and then everything will be alright again. So, I make up any excuse I can to buy some time.
“I should really do those dishes,” I tell him. “You go on up, and I’ll be there in a little bit.”
“Mrs. Summers will get them in the morning,” he says as he ushers me toward the stairs.
“Who is Mrs. Summers?” I ask, when what I should be doing is running far and fast.
“The housekeeper,” he answers. “She comes in the mornings after I’m at work.”
The Senator's Secret (A Presidential Affair Book 1) Page 10
