Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89840 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 449(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
He flicks his wrist, checking the time on his watch. “I have to go. Call or text me if you need anything. There should be officers and security around all day.”
I start to ask if any security will be at the mansion, but it’s a stupid question. Of course, there will be. There always are, especially if they know their governor will be there. I suppose I just want this to last longer—us chatting, him being around. All he does is run off. I’m surprised he even stuck around long enough to eat.
He collects his keys from the foyer, and I dump a teabag into a tumbler, drizzle in some honey, and carry it to him. “Don’t forget your tea.”
“Oh, right.” He smiles at me, then places a kiss on my cheek. He then studies me a moment, eyes softening. “I really am sorry about what I said last night, Jo. I get really stupid when I drink. I do appreciate all you’ve done for me. And your tea boutique is great. You deserve more.” His last statement seems opened ended. Deserve more of what? Him? Or someone better than him?
I don’t get the chance to ask. He plants another kiss on my cheek again and says, “See you tonight.”
When he’s out the door, my body sags to the foyer bench.
Several seconds later, I peer through the sidelight windows, watching Dominic’s SUV leave the driveway.
I turn my head the opposite direction, putting my focus on his office door at the end of the hall. My heart dances to life as I stand, dust off my beige yoga pants and matching shirt, and make way toward his office.
With a twist of the knob, I’m inside and determined to find out what’s really going on with him.
FIFTEEN
DOMINIC
Dominic couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so on edge. Wait, no. Actually, he could. It was the night he’d hung out with Brynn Wallace.
Dominic takes a gulp of hot tea, hoping it’ll shake him out of his delirium. He couldn’t bring himself to join Jolene in the bedroom after seeing that letter. Something about it made his heart feel like it was in his throat.
Instead of going to bed, he found the mini bar, lined neatly with any alcohol he wanted. Beneath the bar was a wine fridge containing wines that cost well over ten grand each. He found his favorite bourbon, dumped some in one of the empty glasses on the counter, and guzzled it down. It wasn’t until about the third glass when his nerves settled and his head, though loopy, felt a bit clearer. There was only one person who could be tormenting him like this, and he was on his way to meet him now.
Two local officers tail his truck as he drives to Executive Mansion. Once there, he walks straight inside, pleased to see two of Frank’s security officers on the grounds. When he finds the office, he takes a seat in the large leather chair behind the desk.
He hates this office with a passion. As a matter of fact, he hates the mansion as a whole. It has a mothball smell and creaks even when no one is walking. The wood paneling on the walls is grotesque and the rugs and carpet—though vacuumed several times a week—appear so dirty. He knew way before even running for governor—back when it was only a plan—that he’d never sleep in this place. Not because it was built by the hands of prisoners in 1880 (a fact that often made him cringe because he was sure most of those prisoners were people of color) but because he couldn’t picture a life here whatsoever. This mansion didn’t belong to him. It’s never truly belonged to anyone. And with the paintings on the wall, all those white men staring down at him, he was sure he’d have taken down every single one of them if he’d been forced to reside here.
Dominic leans back in his chair, pulling out a folded sheet of paper. It’s the paper from the window last night, now creased and wrinkled from his rage. He wanted to burn it but remembered he needed something to prove he’s not losing his mind.
He gazes out the window, then frowns when he sees something unusual out the window. He gets up from his chair, walking toward one of the windows. The sky looks purple. Not blue. Not even a pale, gloomy white. Purple. And the sun is like a yellow M&M. He squeezes his eyes shut, opens them again, but sees the same thing.
“What the hell?” he mutters.
A door closes in the mansion, snapping him out of his trance, and footsteps thud through the building. A man in all black appears, broad-shouldered with a bald head. He’s dark-skinned and much taller than Dominic’s six-foot frame. He stares at Dominic with piercing dark eyes, his mouth formed into a tight line. It’s Boaz, but why does Boaz look like a demon? Dominic is certain there are horns on that man’s head and that his eyes are literal flames. He blinks several times until a clearer presence of Boaz appears.