Page 13 of The Senator's Secret
I sit across from him and look at him for a long while. Why doesn’t he understand how serious this is? Is he not taking me seriously on purpose? How can I make him see reason?
“I can’t be seen as another notch in your bedpost,” I finally reply in such a quiet voice that he can barely hear me. “No one will ever take me seriously again. And I don’t know how to fix it. I need your help, and I absolutely hate everything about that.”
“Lucky for you I have an idea,” he says as he watches me to gauge my reaction, and I hope he fucking does have an answer, because I feel like I’m drowning without a life jacket.
“And what would that be?” I ask. “I’m all ears.”
“You marry me, of course.”
I had just reached for the water glass in front of me and taken a sip when he told me that his answer to all of my problems was to marry the king of the alley cats, the man who has had a record amount of bedmates and couldn’t possibly be faithful to someone as boring as me. The mouthful of water I just took, I spit all across the table and all over him.
“W-w-what?” I stammer.
“I’m not into spit play, sweetheart, but I can come up with something you’ll like a whole lot more. I promise,” he says to me with a straight face as he reaches for the napkin in front of him and pats his face dry.
“Explain yourself right now,” I demand.
“I’d much prefer you swallow,” Chancellor adds with a devious smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He is obviously being obtuse in an effort to be cute or flirty, and I just can’t handle that right now. I need clear facts and straight talk right now.
“That’s not what I’m talking about and you know it.”
“If we come out as a serious couple and eventually get engaged, no one will see you as another woman in my bed. You will be the only woman in my bed,” he explains.
“No one will believe it,” I rationalize. This is what I need. I need to hash out the details and come up with a clear plan. What I do not need is to marry a man who could never love me, just for the sake of looks. “A woman just sold more pictures of you the other day. We can’t get engaged right now. Everyone will think that I’m pregnant.”
And now it’s his turn to choke on the sip of water he just swallowed, obviously because the idea of having a baby with me is abhorrent.Way to make a girl feel good about herself, Senator.
“We’ve known each other for years,” he rallies. “We’ll tell people we’ve been circling around our attraction for years and we only just finally decided to give into it, but the feelings are real. We are very real.”
“Maybe,” I say. I don’t want to see the logic of his crazy-ass plan. He looks like he can feel the win coming, and I cannot stand it. This can’t be it. My whole life can’t boil down to a political match that neither of us ever wanted. I have to find a way out of this predicament before Jake Chancellor talks me out of my panties and my pride.
“After a short while, we will get engaged, and by then the press will eat it up with a spoon. You’ll be the darling of New York again.”
“And then what?” I ask. I feel the hope that is shining in my eyes, and I pray I can find my way out of this mess before it’s too late. I can “date” him for a while and show the world he’s a reformed rake and I’m not just another notch in his bedpost. It’ll all be fake—for show—obviously, and then he’ll go on to win his election, because even though he’s a tom cat on the prowl, he’s also a great politician and the people love him. The polls show it. I just have to get through this, and then I can go back to my quiet life with my cats.
“And then we get married and win a presidential election,” he explains, effectively crushing my hope. Why would he want to get married? That’s utterly ridiculous.
“We can’t possibly get married,” I say for lack of anything else.
“And why is that?” Chancellor counters. “People of our station get married all the time for political reasons.”
“You sound like a historical romance novel,” I inform him. “‘People of our station.’ Who talks like that?”
“I do. And it’s true. It’s not like I don’t admire you. I find you smart and driven, not to mention beautiful,” he says. “I know you turn me on and so do you, because you felt how hard I was last night when you were pressed up against me.”
I can’t help the gasp that slips from my lips at his crude words, but I pull myself together as best as I can.
“A mild breeze would probably make you hard,” I tell him as I roll my eyes.
“Ouch!” He puts a hand to his chest. “You wound me.”
“I think you’ll survive,” I droll.
“So you don’t find me attractive?” he counters my argument.
“I never said that.” And I do my best to bury the excitement I feel when bantering with Jake Chancellor as deep as I possibly can, because the temptation of giving in to him is oh so tempting.
“And I don’t turn you on?” he asks me. “Because from here it looks like your nipples were hard little points in that tiny black dress, and I felt them against me.”