Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35735 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 179(@200wpm)___ 143(@250wpm)___ 119(@300wpm)
I don’t have to dig far for my practiced answer. “No. But I’ll be working on my mother’s charitable committees, and since the governor is involved so often, I’ll suppose I’ll be working with the campaign indirectly on occasion.”
“Ah.” He nods, stepping closer, if hesitantly, and there’s a blush forming on his cheeks. “That’s too bad. I was kind of hoping I’d see you around the offices—”
“Is there something you need, Mr. Turner?” Tristan asks, stepping into view. “If not, I believe my stepsister has enjoyed enough of your attention.”
“Sorry, Governor.” Greg puts a larger gap of distance between us. “You’re right, I’m monopolizing her time. My apologies, Miss Worthington.”
I shake my head, trying to comfort him with a smile. “No need to apologize.”
Greg sighs, seemingly transfixed by me.
“You were going?” Tristan prompts Greg when he lingers.
The young man jolts, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Right. Sorry.”
Greg scurries off, melting into a group of men in suits.
Tristan’s back is to the rest of the room, so no one can see the hard look he gives me. “And so it begins,” he mutters. “Did you have to be so fucking beautiful, Cate?”
With that, he turns on a heel and rejoins his group, snapping a glass of champagne off a nearby tray and downing it in one gulp. It’s the briefest of encounters with my stepbrother and yet my knees are shaking, my pulse drumming crazily. As the evening wears on, it’s getting harder to hide my attraction to him in a room full of people. I want to be pressed up against his side, I want him to lean down and kiss me while someone else tells a story.
But that’ll never happen.
My gnawing worries are given a voice when my stepfather appears at my elbow, a glass of liquor in his hand. “He’ll never acknowledge you. Not the way you need.”
I flush to my hairline.
Not only have I been caught doubting my relationship with Tristan, but this is the man who saw me nearly naked an hour ago, seconds away from an orgasm. I barely resist the urge to curl my arms around myself protectively.
“Did you hear me?”
“Yes,” I whisper through cold lips.
“His political career will always come first.” Elton lowers his voice. “Did you think this makeover might give you a chance with him? Out in the open?”
No.
No, I didn’t think that. Did I?
Yes. Deep, deep down I did.
Maybe I believed on some level that these supposed improvements might make me worthy of love in the light. With Tristan. If not that, there is definitely a huge part of me that wishes I didn’t need to be transformed at all. That I could be loved just for me. I would have been content with that. But it’s too late. I’ve allowed it to happen. I was so worried about making my new family ashamed of me, I’ve shamed myself. Who I was. Where I’ve been.
“This will hold him back, career-wise, you know. With a wife and children, he might have a real shot at the White House. But it’ll never happen now, they’ll uncover his dirty little secret eventually. It always comes out in the wash.”
Dirty little secret.
This is what I was afraid of. That the words Tristan whispers in my ear during sex would reach outside the bedroom. Follow me into real life. I love the way that sentiment makes me feel when he’s inside me, but I don’t like them now. The warm glow that was wrapped around me on the way downstairs is gone, replaced with barbed wire digging into my skin.
“Cate.” I shake myself out of my thoughts and find Tristan looking down at me. When did he cross the room? “She’s upset,” he growls at Elton. “What did you say to her?”
“Nothing that wasn’t true.”
A muscle hops in Tristan’s cheek. I watch the angry movement happen through a blur, thanks to the unwanted tears clouding my vision. “Tristan,” I manage. “It’s fine.”
“Look at you. It’s not fine.” He takes two harsh breaths. “Get everyone out of my house. Now.”
The order causes his father to do a double take. “What? Are you serious?”
“Get. Everyone. Out.” Tristan speaks through his teeth. “Or I’ll throw them out.”
Rebecca notices the tension and joins us with a forced smile. “Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not. The party is over.”
Tristan’s no-nonsense tone registers with my mother and she doesn’t question him, cogs turning behind her eyes. “I’m so sorry, everyone,” she calls, turning to face the room. “I’m afraid I’m not feeling well. We’re going to have to cut this party short.”
The four of us don’t move as the guests collect their things and file out of the house, accepting small gifts on their way out from yet another silver tray. Tristan looks like he’s going to snap, Elton is visibly nervous and as usual, my mother is smoothing everything over with the confused people who only got half a party.