I make a move, like my work phone’s buzzing, and I fish it out of my blazer pocket to check it. “I need to respond to this, and I also need to use your bathroom.”
“Down the hall, first door on the right.”
“Thanks.” I take my glass with me, lifting it to my lips so she can see me do it. First thing I do in the bathroom is take the olives out of the glass and slowly dump the contents into the toilet. Makes it sound like I’m peeing, too.
The second thing I do is pull my personal cell from my shirt pocket and confirm it’s still recording all of this. I replace it, then flush the toilet. Turning on the sink, I wash my hands, carefully wash the martini glass out with soap, then rinse it, dry it off, and refill it halfway with water before thoroughly rinsing the olives off. Only then do I shut the sink off.
I’m…I’m soangrythat I’m trembling. But I shake out my hands and take a few deep breaths to calm myself. Once I know I’m in control, I turn to the door and exit with the glass to my lips like I’m drinking.
She’s still sitting in the chair, but in a different position, and her drink is on the coffee table. Wouldn’t shock me if she’d listened outside the bathroom door and then hurried back to her seat. I doubt she spiked my drink when she made them, because she’s already smacked me with the heavy ask. Still, I’m not taking any chances. Wouldn’t shock me if she’s recording our meeting despite what she said.
I retake my position on the couch. “How can I be certain you won’t double-cross me?”
“Because you are too valuable to me. I reward help. I only turn on those who disappoint me.” She shrugs. “I honestly don’t have any dirt on you. Which is…weird, admittedly. But you are loyal to Elliot and want to protect him, meaning he is your weakness. Don’t make me hurt him. Help me, and we all win.”
That’s a threat, too. Don’t think I don’t recognize it. Unfortunately, she’s absolutely correct about Elliot being my weakness, even if she doesn’t know how true that is, or why.
Sure, I could head straight from here to the FBI with this info and burn her, but that’ll also drag Elliot into a scandal that could cost him the election. Grace or her friends would retaliate in some way. The GOP would have a field day with bullshit like this. Not to mention, it doesn’t mean someone else won’t try to pull a similar stunt.
Or that Grace wouldn’t still try to hurt Elliot, even after she was exposed. Because she’d lose her House seat, she’d be prosecuted, and at that point, she’d have nothing left to lose and would burn everything to the ground.
Then there’d be The Family to worry about.
I make a show of pondering my options. “We’ll need to set it up as a secret romance between you two. So the press buys it.”
She leans forward. “Any ideas how we get around the White House and VP residence entry logs?”
“Like you said, you’ve known each other for years. It’s not like you just met each other. That gives us a lot of leeway. I’ll say you two met up during some of our campaign stops and I covered for both of you.”
“That would be convenient.”
“Yes.” I finish my drink. “It’s also another incentive for you to keepmearound as your alibi. To confirm to people you were meeting while he was on the campaign trail.”
She smirks. “A man after my own heart. I knew when I learned more about you that you’d be my kind of guy. You’re apparently very careful about covering your tracks.”
Inwardly, I blanch. Outwardly, I slowly eat the olives off the toothpick. “You did, huh?”
“Yes. I know your parents disowned you. That leaves a person with a lot of anger and a chip on their shoulder to prove to the world they’re worthy.”
I hate that, in this way, she’s more correct than she realizes. “Yep.”
“Until you agreed to help, I was actually wondering if you and Elliot were doing something together. Secret relationship.”
I glare at her and sharpen my tone. “Who says he’s gay?”
Genuine surprise arches her brows. “He’s not? I mean, I assumed you were, and—”
“Just because he’s single doesn’t mean he’s gay. Doesn’t mean I’m gay, either. What, you assume because I’m not stacked like a gym rat that I’m gay?”
I mean, Iamgay, obviously. Yet nothing I’ve said, in case she’s recording this, contradicts that I’m gay, or even confirms Elliot’s orientation. But I’m enjoying that, for the first time since my arrival, she looks uncertain.
“I-I mean, I assumed you were, because you lived with Leo Cr—”
“Well, knock that shit off.” My heart hammers in my chest. “What you’re doing is sketchy enough without trying to ruin his reputation and cast doubt that your marriage to him is real in the first place. There’s areasonElliot prefers his privacy. It hasnothingto do with his sexuality, and everything to do with his body.”
From the way her brows arch, I can tell this explanation was nowhere on her radar. “His body?”
“His injuries.”
