“Is everything okay?” Darcy’s voice freezes me. Did he hear any of that?
Stella steps around me, and I keep my back turned to them. He doesn’t need to see the mascara presumably running down my face and my blood-shot eyes.
After a few moments of exchanged whispers, Stella walks over to me, takes my arm, and says, “Let’s go get you cleaned up.”
Ten minutes in the bathroom with Stella and I emerge looking like I didn’t have a meltdown over my past.
We all sit in a conference room discussing polling data with the locals who are in charge of running the campaign in Mississippi.Stella sits on one side of me and Darcy sits on the other. Lucas ditched the meeting and went man-shopping at the Bass Pro Shop, which Stella tells me is like redneck heaven.
While my colleagues drone on, I can’t keep my thoughts away from the man beside me. It’s barely noticeable, but his chair and body are angled toward me. He keeps sneaking glances, and they are laced with concern, which drives my rumination cycle back to wondering if he overheard me crying to Stella. He is so close to me that if I wanted to, I could move my hand a couple of inches and I would be holding his hand underneath the conference table.
My hand twitches at the thought, and I relocate it to my lap, clasped with my other hand.
But then he grabs my hand and stands up. I involuntarily stand up with him.
“My wife and I have plans tonight. We are in need of a break from campaign talk.” He chuckles, wearing that easy-going smile that makes the world fall in love with him. I think I prefer the one he reserves strictly for me when we are alone. The world would keel over if he showed it to them. It’s magnificent.
I smile beside him and nod along, ready for our dinner plans with Stella and Lucas.
The core team (plus Stella) say our goodbyes and file into the transport car. The drive back to the hotel is filled with more campaign talk and plans, and I lose myself in the familiar rhythm of work.
Once we’re back at the hotel, I feel more like myself. My thoughts are on track, and I’m focused on the task at hand: gettingDarcy elected as president. We can talk about where our relationship goes once he’s sitting in the Oval Office.
And until then, I'll date the heck out of that man.
“Go ahead and head up to the room. I need to make a phone call, and I’ll meet you there,” Darcy says, already walking away and raising the phone to his ear. I allow myself to watch his hips sway in his dress pants for a millisecond before turning around and pressing the elevator button.
Once I’m inside, I throw myself down on the bed and just take a moment to breathe.
Minutes later, there’s a knock at the door. “Are you decent?” Darcy asks through a crack in the door.
“Yes,” I reply, sitting up on the bed. “Come in.”
Darcy slips through the door and fiddles with his necktie as he asks, “Remember when Loveless leaked our arrangement in order to sabotage the campaign?”
“Yes?” I narrow my eyes. I thought we had taken care of that.
He pulls his tie from one end and it falls to the floor. “He’s back at it again, but this time, he’s airing my father’s dirty laundry. Stuff the general population didn’t already know.” Darcy laughs without mirth. “This time he might actually do some real damage.”
I grab my phone and search Darcy’s dad’s name, Gerald Marshall.
Articles pop up with sordid details of affairs from his past. Women claim Gerald took advantage of them and used his power and prestige to coerce them into bed.
“This isn’t good, Darcy.”
He’s silent, and I continue to scroll, stopping when I see my name: IS DARCY A REPLICA OF HIS FATHER? DID HE BUY-OUT HIS CAMPAIGN MANAGER-TURNED-WIFE, HAYDEN BENNETT?
“Oh, Darcy. This isreallybad.” I show him the article, my stomach twisting into knots. “I can make a statement. Maybe we can come clean about how we began, and—” An idea forms, and I stand, grabbing my phone from Darcy’s hand and maneuvering to my bank app. “The money you paid me the first couple of months before I asked you to stop because we started dating. It didn’t go straight into my bank account. It went into a private account owned by me, yes, but if we add your name to it, we can say it's a savings account for our future children. I’ll add some of my earnings to it too, to say we both contributed.”
He remains silent, though I can tell by his pinched brows and the wrinkles around his eyes that he’s deep in thought.
Finally, he says, “Yes. That could work. But only if we have to. Let’s see what we can do to negate my father’s image tainting mine, first. If we have to come clean about the initial arrangement, then we will. If we don’t though, I’d rather not fight that battle. Politicians marry for convenience all of the time. This isn’t something new.”
I nod, onboard with his plan. The fear that’s been building settles because I know Darcy’s got this. His record is too clean, his ideas too good, and his character too solid for this accusation to hold any real weight. Plus, we’ve busted Loveless once, so hopefully public opinion will landon our side.
“People do believe us to be hopelessly in love. Let’s continue to act like it.”
Darcy digs through his luggage and grabs a yellow button-up shirt. “We’ll figure it out. I’ve got the best team.” He unbuttons the top two buttons of his shirt. “And the best campaign manager-slash-wife.” Then the third…and fourth.
