Maybe I should splurge and buy one of these, because there’s no way I’m going to scrub the fantasy of fucking Daphne in a Porsche from my mind.
And shouldn’t a man get to indulge in his fantasies once in a while?
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
DAPHNE
Daphne
Flowers and chocolates? You must be feeling guilty
Tristan
You’re not answering my calls I’m not sure what else I can do to show you I’m sorry
Daphne
Thank you. But splurging on Godiva does not mean I’ve forgiven you
Tristan
How about I buy you a chocolate factory?
Daphne
At least I’d be employed…
Tristan
I’m happy to help you. Money? Food? Chocolate? What about dog food? I’m behind in child support
Daphne
Hawkeye is not your child
Tristan
He has my eyes
Daphne
Bite me
Tristan
Tell me when and where, Princess
Damnit,I’m mad at him. He’s not allowed to make me smile when I’m annoyed.
He killed people and kept it a secret. What other secrets is he keeping? You know, besides his real face.
I’m not ready to forgive him. I will, but not yet. Let him sweat it out a little longer.
Setting the roses in a vase with water, I store the golden box of chocolates in my pantry, then feed Hawkeye before heading out to my massage.
If Tristan’s going to throw twenty-grand into my bank account as an apology, I might as well enjoy it. It won’t be long before I’ll need what’s left over for movers and the first and last month’s rent on an apartment anyway—if I can even get one without a job.
Job hunting has been pointless. Some of the friends I’ve made as a congressional aide told me my name was blacklisted from their offices, which I’m sure means every Congressional office in DC has me on a ‘no-hire’ list. This is why I hate politics. It’s sloppy, and chaotic, and you never know who is playing what side, who has alliances with whom or what everyone’s end goal is.
