"Perfect. Now, I want to talk about your sister."
"Is she okay? Does she need something?" Giorgia looked up, her gaze locking onto the screen.
"She’s a bit down. She had a brief fling with the Governor of California and his wife, but you know how throuples can be."
"Did they make her feel inferior? Did they use her?"
"I’m not calling to put a hit out on anyone, though the Governor’s head wouldn't be a terrible trophy. He was rude to her, yes. But I think she needs a sister right now. Maybe invite her to spend some time in Brazil."
"I’ll handle it. I'll take care of all three," Giorgia said, her voice dropping into a low, dry rasp. "Make sure she feels good tonight."
"There’s a gala this evening. I think it’ll lift her spirits." I saw a trace of a closed-mouth smile on Giorgia’s face before she gestured to someone off-camera.
"I’ll call her. We’ll talk during your next flight."
As the chat window closed, I smiled at the thought of expanding our political reach. Looking at the spreadsheet of representatives and senators, I realized the red highlights Vanessa chose were there to show exactly how many seats we now control in each house.
#8
"Sem ponto, sem virgula, sem meia, descalça. Descascou o medo pra caber coragem" - Liniker
With the delicate necklace resting against my collarbone, I still found myself wondering if I was making a mistake. Accepting a gift from a defendant, even one I’d just cleared, felt like crossing a line I’d spent my career drawing. The moment my feet touched New York soil, I realized I’d made a tactical error.
My coats were buried in my checked luggage, and I was only wearing a thick blazer. I’d forgotten that December in New York doesn't just get cold; it hits you in the face. I let out a sigh of relief when the warmth of the hotel lobby finally hit me. After checking in, I was handed a heated towel for my hands, an experience that, if that isn't a touch of God, I don't know what is.
I headed up to my suite accompanied by a concierge and smiled when I saw the view. Central Park was laid out before me like amap. I tipped the man and shot a text to Sarki letting her know I’d arrived. Looking at the sheer luxury of the room, I thanked my lucky stars that my only close friend had married a fashion designer.
I dug a heavy wool coat from the bottom of my suitcase and headed to the bar. There’s a certain peace in being a stranger in a luxury hotel. No one looks at you; no one wants anything from you.
The bar was on the rooftop. After grabbing a glass of wine, I leaned against the glass railing, staring down at the dark treetops of the park. I thought about everything it took to get here, the sleepless nights, the mediocre flings, and the emotional wreckage of Peter using my father’s death to blackmail me.
My eyes welled up. I quickly wiped them with my fingertips, refusing to let the emotion spill over. The biting wind touched my cheeks, and for the first time in years, I felt a flicker of freedom.
By the time the alcohol began to buzz in my veins, it was past midnight. I shared the elevator down with a young woman in jeans, combat boots, and a heavy parka.
Her eyes were a piercing green, her jawline sharp enough to cut glass. Her hair was a blonde so pale it almost looked white. I realized I was staring, but she was breathtaking. She gave me a knowing smile before getting off a floor below the bar.
???
The first day passed in a blur of sleep and mindless television. On the second morning, I was woken by the front desk. A package had arrived. Lisa had sent another dress.
Floor-length black silk with a plunging back and a slit that went all the way up the thigh. She’d probably intended to embarrass me, especially with the note:“You’ll look even better in this than you did at that North Carolina auction.”
The hair and makeup team arrived shortly after lunch. By the time they were finished, the dress fit like a second skin. I could feel my hair flowing freely down my back as I waited for the elevator to take me to the ballroom. The space was decorated in a minimalist, elegant style, filled with senators and their families.
Waiters glided by with trays of champagne. I took a glass and spotted a familiar face. Donald, a childhood friend and Senator from California, greeted me with a bear hug.
“Megs! There are people you have to meet. It’s been ages. I was thrilled to hear you officially accepted the DC appointment.” Donald was one of the few people who understood my world.
He’d lost his parents after the 2008 crash and had a trajectory almost identical to mine. Despite his polished look and carefully trimmed beard, there had always been rumors about his sexuality. But then again, who was I to judge?
I was a woman who hadn't had sex in two years because I’d convinced myself that my career required total sexual abstinence. I assumed Donald had made a similar internal pact.
I was nodding along to his stories when I saw her. The woman from the elevator. She was in a suit this time, specifically atuxedo, actually. Suddenly, Lisa’s low-cut dress didn't feel like such a bad idea. Donald laughed, pulling me out of my trance as she approached us. I felt a pulse of desire, or perhaps just the sudden end of my two-year drought, which was thrumming between my legs. I needed to know who she was.
“Megan, you have to meet our biggest donor,” Donald said. “The woman revolutionizing US maritime cargo.” She smiled at Donald and touched his shoulder. Her voice was low, husky, and utterly delicious as she told him to stop hitting her up for campaign funds. Her face was so familiar, but I couldn't place it.
“Megan Woods?” She looked at me, her green eyes locking onto mine. A smirk played on her lips. “I’m Kelsey Calama. What a surprise to see you here.” What a liar. Her lawyer had basically told me she’d be here. And yet, here I was, wearing the necklace she’d sent me. Her hand found my waist, drawing her body closer to mine. Her tuxedo was so perfectly tailored it looked like it had been sewn onto her.
