He nodded before he gave me another peck and left. I watched, even after he was long gone, because I couldn’t not. My stomach roiled with disappointment, and I stamped down the urge to follow him. He’d wanted to check if I was okay, and I was. He didn’t need to know who my father was, or my papa, either, for that matter.
I sighed, hating that it had come to this, but life had to go on. But maybe…. I glanced at my phone and grabbed it, searching my contacts for River’s name. Itwasmy fault he was in this position after all. It wouldn’t hurt to pay River to help.
5
Ross
Cold spring rainbeat down on my head from the dark sky. The entire world had decided it was mad at me. My gray suit was a sopping-wet mess, and I shivered as a frigid breeze blasted me and whipped my hair into my face. I pushed the strands back off my forehead. Fuck, I needed a haircut, too, but that was the last thing I could deal with at the moment. I couldn’t even pay a fucking barber. I’d thought about calling Dad because he had to be out of his mind with worry. I knew him. He’d wait for me to make contact. Dad was well aware of how busy I’d be with a disaster of the political type on my hands… if I was actually, in fact, trying to spin this and stay in office. It was just too embarrassing to get into the details with him, though.
Why hadn’t I cared more about my job? I’d loved the initial rush of winning my position, and the first two years were even good… but I was beginning to suspect there was something not quite right with me. I wasn’t happy with anything when it stopped being interesting and exciting. Maybe that was why I hadn’t taken more precautions with Stormy. I touched my phone in my pocket while I stared at the front door of Mark’s little house.
No, I couldn’t drag my dad into this. We met up once a week for dinner and to bullshit, and that would be plenty soon enough to enlighten him about the sludge pile that was my new life, assuming the local news didn’t clue him in first.
I’d tried to go to my apartment, but there was a platoon of reporters camped out in front, so no dice there. Vane’s had been more of the same, and besides, I was actually worried he might punch me when he saw me next. I couldn’t even be mad if he knocked me on my ass. It wasn’t like I didn’t deserve it. He’d sunk a ton of his personal money into our campaign when we’d run because he believed in me. He’d already started spending for our next run against that putz Lightman.
Vane would be lucky if he was able to beat Lightman alone now, and that was my fault, too.
Sighing, I started along the newly poured bright white walkway to Mark’s front door, oddly aware of my chest and how the muscles moved. Stormy must have bruised my nipples when he’d played with them earlier, and tingles of awareness squirmed through my stomach. It wasn’t that I was turned on, but the sensations of the damp cloth moving over my nips made me think aboutbeingturned on…. The feel of Stormy’s hot mouth on my body doing something I hadn’t told him to do, or encouraged him to do, or even thought I wanted him to do—it had been fucking amazing. I’d never had someone just doing random things to me. But then, maybe that was because I’d always paid for dick.
I’d never considered what someone might want to do to my body for their own enjoyment.
I made myself get in the game because I would have to talk a hearty amount of bullshit to convince Mark to let me stay the night. It would take about as much finesse to get him to stop being mad at me as it would to sway the general public. Maybe more.
Mark’s house wasn’t large, maybe only had four rooms judging from the size of it, but much like Mark, it seemed very orderly. The front porch had two lights lit, and they were both LEDs that blinded me if I stared directly at them for longer than a millisecond. The curtains were closed, but rather than looking tacky, they matched the trim and blended with the color scheme. The plaque for the house number gleamed a warm burnished gold. I held my breath as I knocked lightly on the door, the black metal unforgiving on my knuckles.
I flexed my hand to work out the sting as I waited. The door didn’t open, which made sense. It was late after all. I knocked again and again… and then realized maybe he just wasn’t fucking home yet. The front porch lights were on but the ones inside weren’t, now that I really looked. There was no car in the driveway. I groaned and settled myself down on the stoop with my head in my hands.
Cold water poured down my neck. I’d never felt so miserable in my life. I shivered and wished I’d stayed at Stormy’s, but that wouldn’t have been right. I couldn’t pay him, and he was sweet to say he would start a tab, but we both knew I probably wouldn’t be able to pay it anytime soon, and I hated the thought of taking advantage of him.
He’d been too good to me to pull that kind of bullshit on him.
Not long later a car eased into the driveway. Mark emerged from his vehicle umbrella first and then turned to slam his door with a crack. He marched himself toward me and stopped when he was a few feet away. The glare he shot me was so hot it could have peeled paint off a new car. I got to my feet with a wince.
“There are reporters at my apartment. Vane’s, too.”
“I was your third choice?” he snapped. “After everything I’ve done for you, I wasn’t the first person you came to?” His umbrella trembled toward me as if he might want to bop me on the head with it.
“You were the first one I called.” I smiled at him. Technically that wasn’t true, but he had been the first person to pick up. My answer got me a sour frown and a sigh, which was an improvement over the death glare, and he elbowed me aside to unlock his front door. When I tried to take the umbrella to help him, he yanked it out of my grip and went on fumbling with his key. I got the impression that if he wasn’t so polite, he’d be swearing at me already, so I let him go, and eventually the door was open.
Mark didn’t exactly invite me in. The door hung open after him. I took my chances and followed him into a warm, cozy living room with a couple of couches and no TV in sight. What the hell did he do in his free time? There were books stacked on the floor beside the closest couch. Did he really read that much?
Right in front of the door was a small square of tiles, and I didn’t want to piss him off, so I removed my muddy shoes and put them next to his. He hung the umbrella on the back of the doorknob and didn’t say anything as he stomped toward the kitchen visible through a rounded archway on our right. He took off his dripping coat and hung it on the back of a chair pushed into a table. My socks were soaked. Rather than mark up his carpet, I took them off and laid them across my shoes before I followed him into the kitchen.
He didn’t look at me, and that was my first clue that this might not be okay ever again. Mark was attentive, sweet, a real go-getter, and right now he seemed like he’d been kicked down a flight of stairs. I hated it. He went over and leaned against the counter, dragging his suit jacket closer as he crossed his arms. After a few minutes of heavy silence, he picked up his head and stared me down. His ginger curls were tight spirals stuck to his head. I wanted to ask what he’d been doing out in the rain to get so wet, but it probably had something to do with me. I was shocked at the anger that twisted his features. Never, in all the time we’d known each other, had his lip curled like he wanted to take a bite out of me.
“I cannot believe you.”
“I know. I’m ruined.” I shrugged. What else could I say?
“This wasn’t only your career you messed up, Ross! What about me and Jaxson? Our names are on half of your communications. We’reconnectedwith you. This could—” He bit his lip and glanced away. “I don’t have a lot. What I do have, I worked really hard for. I always told people they were wrong about you.Not Ross Midberry. He doesn’t do anythingillegal. He does too many good things in New Gothenburg. You donated your own money to Heart for a Home.” He turned accusing eyes on me, and I buckled under the pressure. I pulled out a chair from his two-seater kitchen table and plopped down on it.
“That was Vane’s money and my dad’s money. I got Dad’s company to match their donations. They wrote all that money off. Hell, Vane and Dad did, too. That was for publicity. You knew that. Behind closed doors I never pretended to be a good person.”
“Sure, but it was something good you made happen. Ibelievedin you,” he yelled and crept closer to me. “Lots of people did. I worked for Mayor Delmont before you. He was the worst. He was a homophobic, racist, xenophobe asshole who hated everyone who wasn’t white and had lived in New Gothenburg for seven generations. He hated everything that helped poor people. He was the embodiment of a conservative, and he was rolling in filthy money. I came toyourcampaign. I helped you because you were achange. You weregood. You were new to politics. But you’re just as fucking awful as everyone else, aren’t you?” He scrubbed at one eye with the back of his hand and dragged in a deep breath.
“Yes.” I shrugged. “Yes, I am. I mean, I don’t hate anyone. I like helping. Perfect politician, though? No, I’m just the mayor of New Gothenburg, and this city has teeth.”
The way he jerked forward at his middle had me leaning his direction, but all he did was huff air and stare at his feet like he might be sick. “Just tell me what the hell you thought you were doing in that stairwell? Even if this is all about the need to get off—” He bit his lip and glanced up at me. “Why did you take the risk?”
