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“You know about Aaron. And my mistress…”
“I do,” I agreed, nodding, keeping my face impassive. You’ll find no judgment here. Even if I totally judged as much as the next person. If not more. Because someone on the inside saw all of the ugly things that no one else got to witness.
“Senator, I can’t protect you if I don’t know,” I told him, leaning forward again, using the little tips and tricks I learned in a psych class I took once, wanting to put him at ease.
“Well,” he said, making a steeple with his hands in this incredibly pretentious way I kept trying to tell him to stop doing.
Hope swelled, and I discreetly made sure my phone was recording. “I have sort of gotten myself involved with some—“ he started, but was cut off by a loud knock on the office door, making both of us jolt.
“What?” the senator barked.
The door opened, and one of the staffers was holding up a phone.
“It’s for you,” she said, looking sheepish. “Amber,” she said, making me close my eyes as I tapped off the recording app.
Damnit.
He was so close to saying it.
To ending this once and for all.
I could go to the cops.
They could… do whatever they needed to do.
And I could collect unemployment while I got a steady gig going for myself again.
All to have it thwarted by his very needy mistress.
“We’ll put a pin in this,” the senator said to me, tone pointed. Time for you to go.
I walked out of his office and into mine, grabbing some painkillers out of my drawer, and downing them with a fresh coffee one of the interns had brought me.
Then I sat in my office, just rubbing my temples as I tried to figure out if it would be possible to go back into his office later to talk to him.
That question was answered no more than ten minutes later, though, when Michael rushed past my office and into the elevator.
Off to see Amber, I was sure.
“Hey, Elizabeth, do you need anything else from me?” one of the staffers asked, popping her head in my door. She already looked like she’d done her makeup to head somewhere fun. Who the hell was I to stop her? We were standing on a sinking ship here. I might as well start cutting their hours.
“No, actually, can you tell everyone for me that it’s time to head out? Let’s call it an early night. We’ve been burning the candle at both ends,” I said, reaching for my phone to order a ride-share. I was going to power down my office, then walk out with the crowd.
There was safety in numbers.
And I still wasn’t convinced that someone wasn’t going to try to shoot me again.
“Another migraine?” she asked, wincing as she looked at me.
“It’s starting,” I agreed, powering off my computer, then making neat piles of my paperwork as she made her rounds.
Finally, as the crowd moved down the hall, I grabbed my purse and joined them, pushing myself into the center of them all, feeling a bit like a coward as the guilt swirled for putting them at risk.
But no shots rang out as everyone said their goodbyes, talking about their plans, as I threw myself into the ride-share and lowered down in my seat.
I didn’t remember the last time I left work before ten at night, but the sun was just setting as the car pulled up to my building.
“Early, Miss Riley,” Brian said, giving me his usual warm smile.