Page 33

“Watch it, Mother,” I say, just barely holding back the contempt from my tone. “That's your vice president you're talking about.”

Mom huffs and crosses her arms. “Not my vice president. She doesn’t deserve to be in that role, have that title.” Tilting her head, she stares out the windows.

The room grows quiet as I give them time to think it all over. With them distracted, I sneak another cookie. Or two.

“End of the year,” Mother says, breaking the silence. “I want you to leave the secret service by the end of the year.”

“No.” I shake my head for emphasis. “End of this term or no deal. I've committed myself, and I won't break the cohesive team we've built before then.”

Sweat builds along my spine and dots my forehead. I raise the glass to my lips and drain the contents. The two stay silent as I roll the now-empty glass between my hands.

“The deal’s off if you can't stop the bill from being passed,” I state.

“Deal’s off if you go back on anything you've promised,” Mom retorts. “And if you do back out, then we officially cut you off from pulling your trust monthly and inheritance.”

My breath stills in my lungs. Fuck, I didn't think she'd go that big. For the past few years, they've laid out an ultimatum of pulling access to my trust fund but never followed through. Something tells me this time they wouldn't hesitate. And fuck if I'm not worried. A lot worried, actually. Living on a normal salary, an agent salary… hell, that would suck. It’s what I make now but all my extra expenses are paid by the Benson trust, the one Mother has threatened to take away on more than one occasion.

Would Randi even want to stay with me if that were the case?

I shake my head to clear the thought. Of course she would. She wanted me even before she knew about the money. Actually, she might not even really know the extent of the wealth at my disposal, so of course Randi wouldn't care if I lost it all. But I would. I love my bikes, my fancy-ass condo with the million-dollar view. Love the feel of a custom-made suit and the taste of a thousand-dollar bottle of bourbon. I'm not a pompous ass like my parents, but I sure as hell was raised with a platinum spoon and would prefer to keep that lifestyle.

But for Randi?

For us?

I'll give it all up. What they don’t need to know is that my plan ends at the end of the term. No me moving into the political limelight like I’m promising. This is how you play this game, promising one thing and then delivering another. It’s a constant trade of power, and right now I’m holding the cards.

Rolling my shoulders, I lean back against the couch. “Agreed. You get the votes and you get me in four years.”

Mom claps her hands and leans forward. “This is wonderful news. Welcome back, son. Now let's discuss this,” she says, twirling a finger in the direction of my face. “A fair amount of work needs to be done to get you ready.”

Instead of responding, I snatch two more cookies off the tray and shove them into my mouth. And because I’m a little shit, I dust the crumbs off my fingers on the ugly-as-hell couch.

“Not a chance,” I say around the mouthful of partially chewed-up cookie. “Jessica has the list of events we'll attend, so I'm all set to keep up my end of the bargain.” At the door, I look over my shoulder and smirk. “Now you go do yours.”

Chapter Nine

Randi

May

I'm dying. Once again the floor rushes up close, my back slamming onto the cushioned surface. The hours have crawled by, yet here I am enduring this torture.

The heavy weight of exhaustion pulls at my arms; I’m barely able to lift them to defend myself from another attack. My ass throbs all over from how many times I've fallen on it, like now. Sweat drips down my temples, streaming to my chin. Fuck, I hope I remembered to put deodorant on this morning. If not, maybe I won't have to worry about defending myself against Sarah. She'll get a whiff and go running on her own.

I squeeze my eyes shut to keep the sweat from pouring into them.

“Get up,” the strong female voice says above me.

I shake my head and tap the mat with as much force as I can muster. “I'm out. I can't do this.”

“It's been thirty minutes.” There's no mistaking the annoyance and exasperation in her voice. “Get up and try again.”

“Why?” I nearly whine. “You're just going to knock me on my ass again. I'm tired of being on my back.”

“Not what I heard,” Sarah says. Squinting my eyes open, I find her standing over me, smiling. That smile drops as she looks across the room. “Baby, I can't do this. She's weak. Plus I thought you said she wanted to learn.” With the toe of her black tennis shoe, she nudges my sore ribs. “She's not even trying.”

I grit my teeth to keep from responding only because I'm legit scared she'll kill me if I mouth off. T's wife is not only gorgeous but deadly. It's sexy in an 'I might die' kind of way, which apparently I'm into, considering my attraction to Trouble.