Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
“You’re gonna miss the opportunity of a lifetime to avoid some guy you slept with for only a week ten years ago?” Wallace scoffs. “You’re better than that. Smarter than that. Too ambitious for that.”
“Speaking of ambition,” I say, smoothly pointing the finger away from me. “Congrats on this promotion. Kimba and I love having you here in DC now.”
“I’ve always wanted my own research team.” Wallace grins. “But I didn’t expect to have it for years. I’m pretty stoked about this opportunity with CamTech. Moving closer to you guys was a bonus for sure.”
“Good things happen when you’re brilliant and work hard.”
He shrugs off my praise with a lift of his shoulders and a modest smile. “Whatever. Now stop distracting me with flattery. Back to you and Maxim Cade.”
Ugh. It was worth a try.
“There is no me and Maxim Cade.”
“Sounds like avoidance. What does your therapist say?”
I release a two-ton sigh. “I haven’t talked to her about it. I will. I just…”
“You just what, baby girl?” He pulls my head down onto his shoulder. “Go on. Tell foster step-cousin Wally all about it.”
I snort-laugh and turn my face into the comforting scent of his sweater. “He lied to me,” I say, and I hate that hearing it still makes me a little sad. “And he played me for a fool.”
“Did he really, Lenny?” Wall kisses the top of my head. “Or do you tell yourself that so you won’t have to deal with how he made you feel? Maybe still could make you feel?”
My head pops up, and I stare at him in the thin illumination lent by the city’s bright lights passing outside the car window.
“Not you, too,” I say, making a disgusted sound in my throat. “You sound like my therapist. And Mena.”
“I think maybe they’re both right.” Wallace searches my eyes, a concerned frown on his dear face. “There’s some part of you that’s afraid to trust happiness because of what happened with your mom.”
“It’s not happiness I don’t trust. It’s him. And his lies. He made a fool of me.”
“Okay. Then don’t sleep with him, but don’t pass up the chance to manage the next president’s campaign.”
“Who knows if Cade will even win.”
“He will if you and Kimba get a hold of him,” Wally says with a smile.
“There’s still the matter of Owen’s father.” I spit the unpleasant word out. “I need to know he won’t interfere and that I won’t have to deal with that bastard.”
“These seem like things you can talk through and work out. Senator Cade isn’t his father. Don’t miss out on this, baby girl. They call you the Kingmaker now. What will they say when you make a president?”
“I don’t care what they call me. I just want to do the things that are important to me. To my people and other groups that have been disenfranchised, overlooked, and dismissed.”
“If you get Cade elected, you can write your ticket. Campaign managers for winners end up White House staffers, cabinet members, real power players. It could catapult you and Kimba.”
“I’m not sure I have a choice anyway,” I reply somewhat petulantly. “Kimba wants to do it. Everyone thinks I’m the bulldog, but behind closed doors, she makes me look like Bambi.”
“Just think about it.” Wallace kisses my knuckle. “And who’s to say he’ll even be involved? Maybe he’ll keep his distance. He has for a decade. Why stop now?”
When the time is right, I’ll be back for you.
Those words remind me of how he looked at me that day in the conference room. Like we were inevitable. That hum that was always just beneath my skin when I was around him is back even though we haven’t come face-to-face. I can’t help but wonder if somehow he feels it, too.
CHAPTER 37
LENNIX
“He has arrived, gliko mou.”
Iasonos’s words are unnecessary since I see the two bodyguards who always accompany Owen Cade seated in the main dining room. They’re already digging into the taramasalata and bread spread on the table in front of them.
“Thanks, Nos.” I smile warmly at the man who’s been my friend since I moved to DC seven years ago. In search of good Greek, Kimba and I stumbled into this classic unassuming “hole in the wall” that ended up serving the best baklava I’ve ever tasted. It was near closing that first night, and Kimba and I shut the place down. It only took a few times for Nos to “adopt” us.
His restaurant, Trógo, is closed on Mondays, but we’ve conducted more than one covert meeting in his back room when he wasn’t open for business. Today might be the most important to date.
Iasonos pauses at the closed swinging door. “Just you today?” he asks.
“Yeah, Kimba’s at the office, but you know there’ll be hell to pay if I don’t take back some of your spanakopita.”