“He can’t make it!” Mario wailed as I paced my office floor. “What’s your plan, boss? This is a PR nightmare!”
Shit shit shit.
The restaurant was right down the street, and I heard loud, excited noises as Paloma came into view out my window, marching up to the front door of the Capitol Building with a defiant look on her face, trailed by a very reluctant Whitleigh who looked like she was about to cry, Paloma’s friend, and about a dozen or so news reporters.
I had a choice. I could try to salvage my political career by denying everything. Or I could do something Paloma didn’t expect.
Admit fault and take all the blame.
I ripped my door open and scanned up and down the hallway.
“You!” I barked at the janitor, an older Scotchman with a face like a fish. “Come with me.”
I waved the man over as he ambled suspiciously up to me.
“I need you to do me a favor. Could you pretend to be my therapist in front of the cameras? I’ll make it worth your while.”
He blew out his long white mustache.
“W-e-e-e-e-e-ll, I guess I could. For a small fee to be determined later. The name’s Robert MacDonald.”
I took off my coat.
“Here. Put this on and look intellectual. $5,000 if my wife buys that you’re a psychiatrist.”
Pulling him behind me, I marched to the front door. I would not be caught by Paloma cowering in my office. It was time to make my countermove.
I opened the door to be confronted with dozens of microphones shoved in my face and reporters shouting questions.
“Is it true you cheated on your wife?”
“Do you have anything to say in response to these allegations?”
Paloma was busy wiping away a beautiful fake tear with a delicate lace handkerchief. She was wearing a pretty pearl pink suit set with a skirt, but it didn’t fool me now. She was a devious conniving woman and I was going to have to be at the top of my game to match her.
“I admit everything,” I said, my heart pounding. “I made a mistake, but I am committed to my wife and our marriage. I am so committed I’ve even arranged to hire a personal therapist, and he will be on-call day and night for me to work on myself and undoing my toxic masculinity.”
I jerked my head over at the security guards, and they began to clear out the crowds of loudly objecting reporters as I drew Paloma inside.
“Ready for a divorce yet?” she asked, her eyes sparkling.
“Is that your friend?” I countered, hoping to get Paloma’s favor that way. “Can I get them a beverage? Or a job as the Cultural Affairs Officer?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Their name is Rowan and nice try, big shot. Where’s those divorce papers?”
“I’d really like to make this work.”
She shook me off. “Don’t make me laugh. Just go find another Stepford wife.”
“I don’t want a Stepford wife. I want you.”
She rolled her eyes.
“What kind of stuff are you into?” I insisted. “Give me a chance and we can work it out.”
She tapped her fingers on her arm and the movement shifted her little pink suit jacket just a bit so I could see under there she was absolutelybare-ass naked. No chemise, no blouse, nobra, nothing. Just bare soft luscious breasts rubbing against the fabric.
“Tell me, Silas. Why didn’t you justaskto spank me?”
