Page 59 of The Senator's Secret
“Oh my God,” Cara squeals. “Let me see it!”
He loops the hanger over the back of the door and unzips the bag. And I stop breathing. The dress is black with a crew neckline and long sleeves. It would be demure if the entire top wasn’t completely sheer except for strategically placed sprays of vines stitched with tiny gold beads. The skirt is sold but is row after row of vertical black ruffles that flow like tiny waves.
“Help me, Carter,” Cara says. “It’s going to take both of us to get it on her.”
And it does. In the end, I just stand there like a mannequin while they push and pull the fabric to coax it into the right place before they do up the invisible zipper. It fits like a glove. Like it was custom made for me. I stare at myself in the full-length mirror while Cara bustles around me, unpinning my hair and smoothing it into soft waves like it was the other night but better.
“Now the shoes,” Carter says before popping the lid off a brand-new Louboutin box. They are nude, sky-high pumps with a pointed toe and a skinny strap that crosses the top of the foot.
“You speak my love language, Carter.”
“Not me, Senator Chancellor.”
Jake, who always pays attention, who always sees me before I see it myself, realized I favor a very expensive brand of designer heels and bought me a pair. I’m not sure what to make of this situation that has become my life. I should just say thank you and move on, but I can’t help feeling like the other shoe is about to drop.
Instead of asking the important questions, I slip on my new shoes and head down the stairs to take some fabulous fucking engagement pictures. Jake is waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs in a dark-blue suit with a white shirt underneath and the collar open at the neck.
He’s looking at something on his phone, but when Rick says my name and nods in my direction, Jake looks up, and the world just seems to stop. He tucks his phone in his pocket and makes his way to me.
“You are beautiful,” he says when I hit the bottom step.
“Thank you. For everything.”
“It was nothing,” he replies.
“The photographer is here,” Rick calls from the entryway.
Jake and I decided we wanted to take pictures out back in the small garden that is attached to the property. Sarge waits for us. He has been brushed and washed and looks handsome as ever. The photographer has us walk through the trees side by side. She poses us on a path, looking like we’ve been caught in a romantic clinch, when she definitely arranged us that way. And then last, a set of formal poses where we are sitting on the brick steps leading up to the house with Sarge by our sides. I love all of it, but I think the last one will be what gets sent to the different news outlets.
We look perfect in every way.
“Looks Like Love is in the Air for America’s Favorite IT Couple.”
Chapter 18
Be real
“Congratulations!” another well-wisher greets me. I’m not sure who most of these people are. Friends and family of Jake’s, I guess.
By the time the weekend rolled around, our engagement had been the talk of every news outlet in the country and some overseas as well. People wanted to know if it was love at first sight or if it was a shotgun wedding. They wanted to know if I was his mistress when he was with Ashley. That one bothered me more than it should, but whatever.
This last-minute engagement party for the ages was the evil brainchild of Rick and Jake’s dad. I’m not entirely comfortable being the center of attention, but it is what it is. I should have known when I asked Jake for help all those weeks ago, it would cost me the life I previously lived. In for a penny, in for a pound, I guess.
It’s a lovely event. Smaller than I would have thought they were capable of organizing. Only those important enough to be invited were, to the small-ish event at Tavern on the Green. I am surprised to see the partners from my firm here. That was nice of the senior senator to invite them, even if I basically don’t work there anymore. They greet me politely, if not a little distantly, before moving on. I shrug it off. I would probably come to an event like this to meet an infamous senator as well.
The invitee who surprises me most is Mark Jeffries, Ashley’s father. The thing about New York elite is that they all know each other. I wonder if it gets old being surrounded by the same small group of people all the time. Thank God I have Jules and Cara and Carter, or I would go absolutely mad. Although, I have never been part of the elite. I have always been on the outside, elbowing my way in or hidden in the trenches, cleaning up their messes. I’m not sure I appreciate this new status update. Either way, I can’t help but take in the people in this room and wonder if one of them was the person who tried to ruin me. Are they still out there, waiting for their pound of flesh? Half the people in this room, I’ve saved from near disaster, and the other half I’ve beaten the pants off of in the courtroom. It’s hard to tell. It could be anyone.
“Good evening, Mr. Jeffries,” I greet him when he steps in front of me after the last person I was talking to steps away. He smiles tightly and presses his mouth into a thin line. It’s like he’s trying to hold back his self-entitled sneer and is struggling under its weight. I see he and his daughter share several charming qualities.
“Let’s not waste time here with small talk,” he says to me, his voice low and biting. “How much will it take?”
“Excuse me?”
“What’s your price?” he pushes.
I can’t imagine what he’s asking about. Why is he at my engagement party if he doesn’t even like me? The questions bounce around in my head like a pinball.
“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” I tell him honestly.