The Marriage Agenda

by Sarah Ballance

  “As long as his donation found its way,” Senator Pierce said. He added a healthy dose of canned, boisterous laughter.

  “That it did. I think he wanted to avoid distracting from the cause,” Knox offered.

  “As well as from your lovely bride-to-be,” said the senator’s wife, Lucille. “I have to admit, my daughters were rather heartbroken to hear you were off the market.”

  Heat crept to Chloe’s cheeks. He’d introduced her as his fiancee, though to little fanfare. A few raised brows, perhaps, but in a room full of A-lister celebrities, United States senators, and presidential cabinet members, even Knox Hamilton could manage to avoid creating a stir—at least outwardly. Chloe had caught a few whispers and had seen heads swivel in their direction, but she’d merely smiled and moved on. As far as she was out of her element, she wasn’t going to miss the chance to people watch.

  Her job depended on it.

  Unfortunately, aside from a bunch of posturing, there wasn’t much to see. Instead of gaining any valuable information, she spent a half hour picking at the paltry contents of her plate, not because she needed thirty minutes for a handful of food, but to keep pace with the rest of the table. Just as the waiter cleared the plate, she caught sight of the aforementioned Pierce daughters headed in the direction of the restrooms. Curiosity got the better of her. “Please excuse me for a moment,” she said.

  Knox stood immediately to help her with her chair. She smiled sweetly, ignoring the questions in his eyes, and wound her way across the room. The diamonds on her left hand glinted like the rotating spotlights car dealerships hauled in for holiday-weekend sales. The stares she earned made her want to crawl under any one of those lavish tables, but when she caught sight of a waiter with a dessert platter—chocolate mousse—she changed her mind.

  The hallway through which the Pierce daughters had disappeared held a number of doors, which somewhat deflated Chloe’s chances of running into them in the ladies’ room. She didn’t want to talk so much as she wanted to listen, but when she entered, she found her chances for either were naught. She also found the restroom to be larger than her apartment and appointed with nicer furniture than any she’d ever seen, save for that in the hotel. The plush sofa was several feet away from the nearest stall, but she made a vow to stay away from it anyway. Toilets were germ volcanoes, and that upholstery was probably dusted with evidence of every flush since its arrival.

  Chloe had just shut herself in a stall when she heard the bathroom door open. High heels clicked across the floor. She’d just started thinking she’d struck out when a woman spoke.

  “Love, my ass. He hasn’t dated anyone in months.”

  Chloe’s heart rate kicked up a notch. Ever so quietly, she stepped onto the toilet seat so they wouldn’t see her feet and prayed her high-heeled shoes would provide enough traction to keep her from landing in the bowl.

  “Can you imagine?” asked a different voice. “A reporter?”

  Great. They were definitely talking about her, but more importantly, about Knox. He really hadn’t dated anyone in months. She felt impossibly warm and tingly for someone who was crouched over a toilet.

  “I bet she’s a gold-digging slut,” said Thing One.

  “Not that you’d have to be to climb into bed with that man.” A dramatic sigh followed. “Do you think that’s her real hair?”

  “Of course it is. What reporter could afford extensions?”

  Thing Two pshaw’d the notion. “I don’t know. They look pretty bad.”

  The extensions she didn’t have? Chloe rolled her eyes.

  “I think one of her eyes is larger than the other,” Thing One said. “Did you notice?”

  “I was too busy staring at that ring. It’s kind of garish, don’t you think?”

  “It would be exquisite on my finger,” said Thing One. “But on a reporter? It’s awful.”

  Sure it is. Chloe glanced at her finger and grinned. She had a thousand and one reasons to mind her manners, but somehow she didn’t expect the truth of this exchange to leave the room. With nothing to lose, she stepped off the toilet and opened the stall door, enjoying very much the subsequent surprise that etched the overly painted faces of the Pierce daughters.

  “I don’t know,” Chloe said sweetly, holding up her ring next to her face. “It kind of draws attention away from the bad hair and the asymmetrical eyes. Of course, I must be a lousy gold digger—you can barely see the metal for all the diamonds.”

  Neither Thing uttered a word.

  For all their highfalutin manners, society left a lot to be desired.

  Chloe suppressed a laugh as she washed her hands and left the room, knowing full well the two cats had likely found their tongues the minute after the door shut behind her.

  Knox stood nearby in the hallway. “What are you smiling about?” he asked.

  “I met Senator Pierce’s daughters. Apparently I have bad hair extensions, asymmetrical eyes, and questionable morals.”

  “You have hair extensions?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Is this the part where I get offended because you didn’t argue my morality or dispute the poor configuration of my face?”

  He grinned. “I happen to know your eyes are perfect, and I don’t question the state of your morality, but I don’t think I’d know hair extensions if I saw them.”

  “Rumor has it you can see the bad ones from across the room. And rest assured, my hair—however faulty—is my own.”

  “I think your hair is as beautiful as the rest of you.” He shook his head and…chuckled? Who the hell chuckled? “Senator Pierce’s daughters, huh?”

  “Maybe they’ll scratch one another’s eyes out trying to win your affection. Then we’ll see who’s asymmetrical.”

  He made a whooshing sound under his breath. “What’s the classic sitcom reaction to that? Meow?”

  “If you want a classic sitcom reaction, tell me something I don’t want to hear about the fate of my dessert.”

  “You mean there’s a woman inside the beltway who will actually touch a dessert?”

  She glared.

  He laughed. “It’ll still be there when you get back. The women at the table started talking about wedding stuff—not ours, not that it would have helped—so I made my escape. Do you want to dance?”

  The last time they’d danced in public had been in that dive bar, and they’d barely made it out of there with their clothes on. “That might not end well,” she said.

  He grinned devilishly. “No self-control?”

  “Isn’t that how you like it?”

  “You’ve got me there,” he said. And he led her onto the dance floor anyway, immediately pulling her close.

  She put her arms around him, lacing her fingertips behind his neck. With the feel of his long, hard body moving as one with hers, she quickly forgot her concerns about flashing the diamond or missing dessert. Her heartbeat thundered and drowned out the din of conversation. On some level, she knew she should be scoping out the crowd, but she was a lot more interested in the man who was in danger of losing his third shirt in two days.

  Her fiancé. The guy with all the complications.

  “How long are we staying in DC?” she asked. She’d yet to break the news of their engagement to Lila, who had probably worn calluses on her texting fingers with the effort to find out what had happened with Jeff. Chloe’s parents were also due a call. Despite the fact they lived halfway across the country, she probably didn’t have long to break the news before someone else did.

  “Unless you have a conflict, we can leave tomorrow. What do you think about renting a furnished house outside the city?”

  Anywhere, as long as it has a bedroom.

  God, he was hot. And just like that, she really was questioning her morals. She’d agreed to marry him for access—not cash—but she’d just eaten a dinner at better than a hundred dollars a bite and she had enough ice on her ring finger to sink the Titanic.

  Maybe she really didn’t have any moral
s. But she had a chance.

  And she was taking it.

  Chapter Seven

  Somewhere in Lila’s proximity, glass was shattering. It had to be, with her shrieking. “You what?”

  Chloe thought twice about dropping the phone and covering her ears. Whatever Lila would say next, Chloe probably wouldn’t want Knox to hear, and with the racket Lila was making, he’d hear it for sure. “I said yes.”

  “Why the hell would do you that? What happened to Jeff?”

  “Don’t ask. I think he would have left me for Knox in a heartbeat—in fact, I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.”

  “You do realize that tells me absolutely nothing of what happened.”

  “Jeff was starstruck. Knox handed him a business card and told him to call him later. It was almost humiliating.”

  “Only almost?”

  Chloe shrugged, though Lila couldn’t see her. “I got the man.”

  Lila laughed. Or maybe sobbed. “You got the wrong man. Please tell me this is some kind of revenge thing. I get Jeff was a bit…grounded…for your taste, but I figured that was what you needed. You know, to get over Knox. Over. Not under. This is utter insanity.”

  “As far as you’re concerned, this is the natural evolution of a relationship that’s been kept quiet for the last few months.”

  Lila grunted.

  Chloe sank onto the edge of a bed that probably cost more than her car. Her old car, that was. Knox had provided a brand new one, which had been delivered to the house within a couple hours of him signing the lease. They hadn’t needed long to house hunt. As far as she was concerned, one million-dollar mansion looked the same as the next, and considering Chloe’s entire apartment would have fit easily into her new closet, she hadn’t felt the need to argue the finer points. The second home the Realtor showed them was both fully furnished and immediately available, so they’d taken it.

  “Think about this, Chloe. Really think about this—about how he left you. What changed? I don’t doubt you have feelings for him, but what did he do to deserve you? There’s got to be more to this story.”

  Of course there was. But she had signed a nondisclosure agreement, the terms—and consequences—of which left her praying she didn’t have a habit of talking in her sleep. “He said he was ready to get married, and I was the only person with whom he could see that happening.” That part, at least, was true. Chloe sighed. Who the hell was she mad at? Knox hadn’t lied to her, and she hadn’t exactly surrendered her self-respect by saying yes. As far as she was concerned, she had more to gain than he did. Even if she did have to deal with media scrutiny, they’d quickly grow tired of her. She was an only child with an uneventful, lower-middle-class upbringing, and parents who believed in staying together for better or worse…nothing newsworthy there.

  “I am marrying him because I love him,” she said quietly. Because that was what she was supposed to say.

  “Chloe, after what he did to you…”

  She sighed. She didn’t have many close friends, and her marriage was the last thing that should come between her and the best of them. “Look, Li. He said he made a mistake. I believe he’s genuinely sorry, and you know better than anyone that I’ve never stopped loving him.” Ouch.

  “Fine. Love him. But do you have to marry him? If he loves you now, he’ll love you in six months and then… Oh, hell, now I sound like my mother.” Lila blew sharply. “I may never forgive you for that.”

  Chloe laughed. “Look, I know it’s a hard sell, but can you trust me here? I know what I’m doing.”

  Lila sighed. “That must have been some amazing sex.”

  Amazing was an understatement. The sex was so amazing it had “bad idea” written all over it. Despite the tingles wreaking havoc with her body, Chloe outwardly ignored the comment. “The wedding will be just him and me and the minister and the required witnesses, but there will be a reception next Friday at the Wyndham Club.”

  Lila’s long, low whistle cut the silence. “Nicely played.”

  Chloe let go of a breath. Lila’s tone had lost its suspicious note. Chloe had been worried her friend would push until she got some version of the truth, but she’d backed off. “I wouldn’t say—”

  Knox walked in. To their bedroom. Everything had happened so quickly. Forty-eight hours ago, she’d been complaining about missing a date with her sofa and a carton of ice cream, and now she was engaged to a man who had literally been named DC’s most eligible bachelor two years running. She just couldn’t get over the fact she and Knox shared a bedroom. And a bed. And soon, vows. False ones.

  “I’ve got to go, Lila.” Chloe ended the call to the sound of Lila’s unanswered protests and drank in the sight of Knox leaning against the doorframe. Though his stance was casual—and effortlessly so—he stood as if he had been sculpted. The man was a model of physical perfection. He looked more like an athlete than a politician. It was no wonder he was polling favorably…he probably left every woman in his target demographic quaking. That lopsided, boyish grin just begged to be tasted, and she’d yet to wrap her brain around the fact she was the only one whose mouth would get anywhere near him. She was the one he wanted.

  She was the one he didn’t want to love.

  His gaze toured her unapologetically, and she returned the perusal as good as she got. How did a man who probably spent ninety percent of his waking hours in a suit manage to be so tan? He looked as if he had just stepped off a yacht. Hell, he probably had a yacht. They were to be married in a matter of days, and she didn’t even know. She’d tried to make up for the year of ignoring his existence with an hour of Googling him that morning, but the yacht thing hadn’t surfaced.

  Interestingly enough, neither had any other women. She didn’t think him dishonest, but it was so hard to believe that he’d managed to keep his hands to himself—however literally—since they’d split. She had no doubt the Pierce girls had their sources, but they couldn’t know everything. They hadn’t known about her.

  “Have you really been flying solo since you broke up with me?”

  His lips quirked. “In what way?”

  Her field of view narrowed with her eyes. “Sexually.”

  “You first.”

  “I already told you I had.”

  “And I already told you the same.”

  “A year is a long time to abstain,” she said. Just because the internet hadn’t spewed forth any candidates didn’t mean they didn’t exist. He’d managed to date her for months without drawing attention to their relationship.

  He raised his brow. “Where are you going with this?”

  Too late, she realized this conversation might be taking a dangerous turn, but she wouldn’t give him the pleasure of thinking he was getting to her. He had enough evidence of that already. She smiled sweetly. “I don’t think you’ve made it more than ten hours since we were reacquainted.”

  He graced her with a smug, tilted grin, which couldn’t be more kissable if it tasted of chocolate and wine. He crossed the room, his bare feet toe deep in the most ridiculously plush carpeting that could possibly exist anywhere, and leaned so his lips grazed her ear. “I haven’t heard any complaints.”

  Well, he had her there. The sex was incredible, but wasn’t that the problem? She wasn’t a Neanderthal—she couldn’t be the recipient of those tender touches and mind-bending orgasms and not fall harder. And then there was that whole morals charge… As ridiculous as it sounded, she didn’t want to be the mistress to his almighty principles. It didn’t matter how sincere his purpose for refusing love. He refused it all the same.

  And if she wanted to keep a single piece of her heart intact, she’d have to refuse him back.

  “Are you suggesting I can’t go without sex?” he asked.

  “I bet you can’t.” She was flailing. And with that challenge, she was flat-out crazy.

  His eyes narrowed but not with suspicion—more like interest. Enough interest to suggest she’d just taken a misstep of epic proportions.
“Can’t what?”

  She found her tongue…and, in looking at him, a thousand things she’d rather do with it than continue this no-win conversation. “I bet you can’t wait long at all for sex.”

  “Are you serious?” He didn’t present any of the indignation the words suggested. He looked more like an animal circling its prey—an animal with a serenity of expression that indicated he knew he’d already won.

  Um, no? “Of course I’m serious.”

  “You’re on.”

  Uh-oh. “On what?”

  He laughed, but he didn’t sound as if he was joking. “You don’t seem to think I can last for an extended period of time without sex, and I don’t think you’ll last the week. You’re on. First one to beg for it loses.”

  Chloe pasted on a grin, though inside she was undulating at the knowledge of what he could do to her. She was in it this deep…and it didn’t sound much like a bet anyone would lose. At least not without winning. “That’s a bit open to interpretation, don’t you think? I think we need something a little more concrete.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “You can beg all you want… It’s the orgasm that decides it.”

  His brow lifted.

  “Any orgasm,” she clarified, shooting a pointed look in the direction of his man parts. “Keeping your hands to yourself won’t help you this time.”

  He returned the carnal focus, and she’d swear she heated under his appraisal. “That’s cute,” he said. “It’s also fundamentally unfair.”

  “Why?” I’ll match you coy word for coy word, buddy. “Do you have such a hard time controlling yourself?”

  “Around some people.”

  Good to know. Some people, her ass. He’d better learn to control himself around all people. “Which brings me back to my point. You can’t make it without sex.”

  He didn’t back down. “Not exactly. My point is you can pretend your orgasm didn’t happen. Mine are…unmistakable.”

  She shrugged. “Suit yourself.”

  “Wait a minute. I didn’t say no. What’s at stake here?”

  “If I win, you get to dress up in your tux and take me out for tacos.”