Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108242 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 433(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
And my privilege is to love Maxim no matter what.
“Well, I’m going to zip back to the office,” Kimba says, pausing. “There is one thing we need to discuss if you do this and Hunter, Allen and Associates takes you on.”
“What’s that?” Maxim asks.
“We don’t fuck our candidates,” she says. “That has been our policy from the beginning, and it’s one of the things we’re known for and have built our reputation on. Now, when it was Owen running, I think Lennix could have gotten away with your relationship being public. Not ideal, but we could weather that. If you are the actual candidate, she’s right. Women have it hard enough without people assuming every time we get near a candidate we want to screw our way to the top of the ballot, if you know what I mean.”
Maxim’s expression is hard and flat, the face of a cliff. “I don’t think—”
“Here are your options,” Kimba cuts in. “Option number one: Lennix does not work with your campaign.”
“No way,” I pipe in. “If he’s running, I’m on the ship.”
“Right.” Kimba nods. “Option number two: You put your relationship on hold for the duration of the campaign.”
“The hell we’re doing that,” Maxim snaps. “No one can expect a man to love his country that much.”
I cover my burning face, but Kimba laughs, shooting me a lascivious grin. “That’s what I thought. So it’s option number three.”
She sobers and opens the door. “Discretion. I’m serious. You haven’t been out together much, so I can see how you’ve kept it from the press these few months. We’re talking a year. Can you keep it from the public and from our team for a year? Because if one of us starts breaking the rules, that’s the beginning of chaos. This is my company, too. My reputation, too.” She waves her finger between the two of us. “Y’all ain’t about to ruin my reputation because Maxim can’t keep his dick in his pants.”
“Me?” Maxim points to me. “What about her? She wants it all the time. I’m telling you. I can barely keep her satisfied.”
Dead. I’m mortified, and anything I say next will be communicated from the afterlife. This whole conversation just became a séance.
My absolute embarrassment must be slathered all over my face because the two of them lose it laughing when they look at me. Kimba fist-bumps Maxim.
“Now that was pretty good. I gotta give it to you.” She stops laughing abruptly and swivels a warning stare between the two of us. “But for real, though. Discretion. None of us can afford the scandal.”
Once the door closes behind her, Maxim walks over to stand in front of me and pulls me to my feet. I push at his chest, putting space between us.
“She’s serious, Doc, and so am I. You can’t stay at my apartment anymore, even using the rear entrance. No more sex every day.”
He angles a wry look at me because, really. We rarely only have sex once a day.
“Okay, no more sex two times a day. I know it’s unrealistic to think we’ll never…slip up. That’s why Kimba gave us that option, but we can’t abuse it.”
“So when do you see us making love?”
“Not often and only under very special circumstances.”
“You mean like Tuesdays?”
“Be serious. I don’t want to be that cliché—the campaign affair.” I close my eyes and shake my head. “The candidate and his piece of ass on the trail.”
“Piece of ass?” His hands skim the curves of my butt before sliding back up to my waist. “People can be in love and be in politics. We’re in love. I’m yours. It’s not tawdry.”
I reach up to bracket his handsome face with its hard angles and rugged symmetry. “And I’m yours. We know that, but it’s about perception at this point. Kimba and I can’t afford the damage it would do to our reputation, and once you’re a candidate, neither could you.”
After a second, he nods. “Well, this is all immaterial if I don’t run.”
“But you want to, don’t you?” I ask, searching his eyes and catching that spark of excitement that’s getting harder for him to hide. “I can see it starting to make sense to you.”
“It’s complicated.” He shrugs. “As a preliminary measure, I’ve had my lawyers start seeing how it would affect my business interests.”
“You’d have to form a trust and appoint other people to run CadeCo—be completely hands off if you won.”
“It’s a lot to give up.” He bends a little until we’re eye to eye. “But what if those crazy kids who dreamed in a tulip field all those years ago about changing the world, about making it a better place, actually get to do it together?”
I draw a deep breath, not even allowing myself to think about the good we could do if this improbable thing actually happened. “Mr. Cade, that would be what we call,” I say, tipping up on my toes to kiss him lightly, too, “a dream come true.”