Page 32 of The Senator's Secret
Aknock 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 property; 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.