Page 11 of The Senator

Vani giggled. “Not me but thank you. I’m ace, which means I?—”

“You’re not sexually attracted to anyone. Yes, I know what it means.” Nash glanced in my direction. “Based on the papers, I’d say you’re a man’s man all the way, huh? I swing either way. What a fine group we make.”

The three of us chuckled at his comment. He was spot on.

“Anyway, I’ll get you to the parking garage and leave you to it. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. I need to speak to my boss to see that I still have a job.” Nash left the suite, phone in hand.

Vani hissed to get my attention, wagging a well-manicured finger at me. “At least get his number. If nothing else, he’s not judgmental, and we really don’t have any friends left. If they turned their backs on you, they’re dead to me.” Vani kissed my cheek and stood, pushing in the chair and heading toward the bedroom where she’d slept.

I sat at the table, trying to figure out what to do about the latest disaster, and I came to one conclusion—I wanted to corner Mario and force him to tell me what happened, and then Vani and I needed to get out of town for a while. I needed to check my calendar for the rest of the year to see if any important votes were coming up and begin to plan what was next for the two of us—if Vanessa still wanted to be a part of my life. That was a giant hurdle to jump.

I tossed a fifty over the front seat to the sedan driver as I hopped out of the car on our driveway. I reached in to pull Vani across the seat and help her out. There was patchy snow that must have fallen overnight, and she was wearing heels, so I didn’t want her to fall. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a news van roll up, blocking the driveway, which wasn’t going to be a good thing. A woman hopped out with a cameraman in tow, shoving a microphone in my face before I could react.

“Senator Brady! Senator Brady! Would you follow up on your statement from earlier disclosing that Blaire Conner was your guest in Antigua. Will you comment on why you and Mr. Conner were engaging in sexual relations during the day on a public beach?” Yeah, it was time to get the hell out of Dodge.

I started to give the party line— “No comment!”—when Vani stopped dead in her tracks and wheeled on the reporter, Bree McCoy, who worked for the local NBS affiliate where Blaire had worked before he got promoted to the network.

“You! You have a lot of nerve coming to my home and attempting to humiliate a good man. Get off my property. You’re trespassing, and I’ll call Fairfax County Police and have you prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law if you don’t get off my driveway immediately.” The way Vani was pointing that finger, I knew it was a threat she would see through.

I grabbed her arm and pulled her along with me, hoping her sense of self-preservation kicked in. That would be something to look forward to on the five o’clock news, her losing her shit and dignity with a snippy up-and-comer in local media.

Once we were in the house, we both kicked off our shoes and headed for the kitchen. I plugged in my private cell and placed it on the counter, before sliding off the ball cap Nash had provided, though clearly, it didn’t protect me from the vultures who were circling to pick at my carcass on my own driveway.

Vani let down the high ponytail she’d swept her long blonde mane into and flopped into a chair at the table, releasing a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry.”

I walked over behind her and bent to kiss the top of her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong, love. You’re frustrated with this situation, and that one deserved a dressing down.”

My phone—the burner phone—began dinging with texts, so I walked over and picked it up from the counter, seeing messages from Blaire.

“Fuck.” I was not ready for another battle to come my way.

“Blaire?”

“Yeah, and—” I trailed off before I opened the first of several messages from Blaire.

How the fuck could you? Call me!

Spencer, you put out a statement? You bastard!

I’ll never forgive you for this!

I ran upstairs to my office to retrieve my official cell, checking the messages to see a text from Mario.

Senator—In accordance with your instructions of yesterday afternoon, I have issued a statement on your behalf, confirming that Blaire Conner was the man in the picture you were having sex with on your vacation in Antigua. I agree, it’s better to get everything out in the open. I’ll be in touch—Mario

I read the message three times and checked back through my emails and the other texts on my phone, seeing nothing from me instructing anyone to do anything of the sort. I called Mario’s cell, and it went directly to voicemail. The fucking coward refused to talk to me? No fucking way was I letting that fly.

I hung up and called my director of communications, Mitchell Flora. Anything released from my office went through him first, and if he knew nothing about it, then someone was fucking with me, yet again.

The phone rang three times before it was answered. “Communications. This is Tammy,” I heard.

“This is Senator Brady. Where’s Mitch? I need to speak with him immediately.” I shouldn’t yell at her, but I couldn’t help it. What a clusterfuck!

“Sir, he’s in a meeting with Mr. Fernandez. Should I interrupt them? I was told not to, but for you, I will,” the young woman offered.

“Transfer me to the conference room, but don’t announce me. Just put the call through.” I sounded so hateful, but something had to fucking give before I bashed my head against the nearest brick wall.

The phone rang four times before it was picked up. “I said we weren’t to be disturbed!” It was Mario, and I was so beyond pissed I could barely hold my temper.

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