I was startled by the question.
“I didn’t think it was a very appropriate and gentlemanly thing for me to ask of my wife,” I said stiffly.
Paloma smirked again, tossing her hair.
She really had the most ridiculous hair, all different colors where she’d tried different hair dyes—pinks and blues and purples and orangey-yellow where the dye was coming out. Why was I so obsessed with her?
My love for the old Paloma had been a pure, holy thing. A quiet, tender devotion. My feelings for the new Paloma were that I wanted to seize her and fuck her against the wall of the Capitol Building. I wanted to imprint myself under her skin. I wanted to beg her for one more chance.
I felt something wholly unfamiliar—a craven, weak desperation for her approval.
A feeling like I’d do anything to keep her.
“And that’s why we’d never work,” she snorted. “Because the things I like to do aren’tgentlemanlyat all. Now run along and spank your girlfriend and don’t bother me.”
CHAPTER 5
Paloma
Silas grabbed my arm before I could escape down the hall, breathing heavily in my ear.
“Please,” he said roughly. “What do you want to stay? Whatever is is, I’ll give it to you.”
I dabbed at my eyes for the benefit of the paparazzi who were still craning their necks at the Capitol Building to get a good view of the developing sex scandal.
Governor Di Pietro caught cheating on hismuchyounger wife, her tears broadcast for the whole world to see.
It was all sooo touching. . .
Soooo tragic. . .
It was all so perfectly planned.
Whitleigh staggered inside, looking rumpled and wild-eyed, followed by my friend Rowan, who was posing like they were on the runway.
“Vultures. . . they’re like vultures,” she gasped.
“Vultures are drawn to dead flesh,” I put in. “So what’s that say about you?”
She gaped at me, then looked angrily at Silas.
“And you’re just going to let them tear me apart?”
“What do you expect when you acted like such an idiot on camera?” he snarled like the political gangster he was. “We’re through, Whitleigh.”
“Don’t be so hard on her,” I said. “After all, it’s not like sheknewyou were married.”
Whitleigh’s face flushed red as a beet. Because ofcourseshe knew, she’d been to countless dinners and balls and charity events in my company.
She’d looked me in the face.
She’d complimented my dress.
And all along she’d been wiggling her ass for my husband’s idiotic role-play.
What a shock. What aterrible, terribleshock.
“I’m feeling faint,” I wailed to Rowan, swooning as they caught me easily.
