Don did an admirable job of acting as my shield, keeping me just out of Peter’s reach, but my focus remained on the periphery. I watched as Vanessa and Peter peeled away from the crowd, heading toward the shadows of the office.
#45
" Y pasan los día', los mese', pensando en tu olor. Ha llegado el tiempo para usar la razón ante' que sea tarde y, sin querer, me parta en do' " Bad Bunny
With a subtle wink, Donald directed my gaze to where it needed to be. I turned my head just in time to see Kelsey signal toward the hallway. I could have jumped for joy, but instead, I leaned into the performance; I rose on tiptoe and pressed a long, lingering kiss to Don’s lips. The room hushed for a fraction of a second as eyes swiveled toward us.
"It worked," he whispered against my mouth.
I broke away and moved toward the restroom, the click of my heels on the marble the only sound in my ears. The moment the door closed behind me, Kelsey was there.
"Kitty, you still haven't fulfilled your promise to me," she said, her voice a low, demanding rasp. I offered her a mischievous smile as I slid my panties down, stepping out of them with a fluidgrace. I caught her by the lapels of her jacket, pulling her mouth inches from mine.
"Any more demands for today?" I challenged.
"You. Kneeling with your back to the door," she commanded, her fingers tracing the line of my cleavage until my skin hummed. "Arms behind your back." Her lips brushed the sensitive skin of my neck. "I’m going to make you come until you forget your own name."
I swallowed hard, the weight of her authority leaving me breathless. I reached back to lock the door, unable to even voice a protest. I was soft, aching, and dangerously close to the edge.
The rest of the night was a blur of forced smiles and tactical dancing. By the time I returned to Don's side, the evening felt like it was dragging through molasses.
Finally, I saw Peter heading for the exit, a look of profound reluctance etched into his features. He and Kelsey exchanged a few words and a formal handshake, the universal sign of a truce, however fragile.
Meanwhile, Donald had performed a miracle on the dance floor. By the time the third senator congratulated me on "reconnecting with my high school sweetheart," I realized he had successfully sold the room a fairy tale.
Desperate for a moment of silence, I excused myself to the terrace for some fresh air. I was seriously contemplating a cigarette, a ghost of a habit I’d buried years ago, when a shadow stretched across the stone floor. I expected Donald or Vanessa, but the voice that cut through the night was cold and familiar.
"I see you really are sleeping with Donald," Peter said, leaning against the railing as he lit a cigarette.
I didn't give him the satisfaction of a flinch. I simply rolled my eyes and extended my hand. He didn't say a word as he handed me a cigarette and clicked his lighter, the small flame illuminating the mask of indifference I’d spent all night perfecting.
"You talked so much about his cheating that I finally decided to see what the fuss was about," I countered, my voice dripping with a calculated, bored curiosity. "What are you even doing out here, Peter?"
"I need support for the campaign. The terms of our... arrangement... got a little foggy tonight, but I’ll straighten them out," he said, his eyes fixed on the horizon.
"I didn’t think even you were jerk enough to want me by your side just to scavenge for votes."
"Oh, Megan. Don't insult us both by pretending to be naive," he scoffed, turning to face me. "Of course I want the embodiment of Jackie Kennedy by my side. But as it happens, I was offered a small fortune to accept you as a 'friend' instead."
"Friend..." I repeated the word, the incredulity sharp in my tone.
"We’ll see each other at an event in Jacksonville next week. I’ll need you there, smiling and waving."
"Do you honestly think I’m going to stand there like some polished souvenir, staring at your lover’s face while I tell the world you’re a viable candidate?"
"That is exactly what I expect," he said, stubbing his cigarette out on the sole of his shoe with a slow, deliberate finality. He began to walk toward the exit without looking back. "And that is exactly what you are going to do."
A lump formed in my throat, that familiar, bile-tinged urge to heave rising in my chest. I took a few ragged breaths, pinching the bridge of my nose as I forced myself to finish the cigarette. I couldn't help but wonder if Peter was capable of having good taste in anything, even his tobacco was subpar.
I smoothed my dress and stepped back into the hall, where Lisa immediately intercepted me, her nose wrinkling in distaste.
"What is that smell? It’s like cheap cigarettes and desperation."
"I was sharing a smoke with Peter on the balcony," I said, my voice cold and steady once more.
Lisa stared at me in disbelief, slowly shaking her head. "It is an absolute nightmare to get the smell of tobacco out of this specific fabric. My sympathies to the laundry service," she sighed, rolling her eyes. "What did that man want now?"
"Just the usual," I replied, catching a fresh glass of sparkling wine from a passing waiter’s tray. "A bit of light emotional blackmail seasoned with some thinly veiled threats."
