Page 33 of Twisted Truths

If I’m off on my own, my instructions are to be polite, but a little aloof. According to him, people need to know that I’m loyal to the Vosses because everyone is always looking for an angle. He described DC as a shark tank with chum in the water—sometimes you’re the shark, and other times you’re the chum.

One of the senator’s aides, Brandon, and I are chatting. He seems nice enough, I guess, but I’m only half paying attention because I’m watching Obsidian, making sure he doesn’t give me the signal.

“Will you be attending the fundraiser tonight?” Brandon asks me.

I look away from my boss and at him. Brandon’s attractive. Maybe a few years older than I am, with dark blond hair and hazel eyes.

“Assuming there hasn’t been a change of plans I don’t know about, yes.” I give him a warm smile.

“Wonderful. I do hope you’ll save a dance for me then.” His eyes spark with interest.

I shift in my spot, unsure how to handle this. “I’m not sure whether Mr. Voss will need me at all, but I might be able to spare a dance. We’ll see.” There, that was noncommittal.

Brandon speaks directly into my right ear. “If things go how they usually do at these things, by ten o’clock, all the old guys will already be half drunk. When that happens, they stop talking about politics and policies and actually remember how to have a good time.”

A little uncomfortable with how close he is to me, I lean back. “Thanks for the tip.”

My gaze darts over to Obsidian, who I know is watching us, and he doesn’t look happy. It reminds me of the night he saw me with my brother. With that thought comes the memory of what happened in his car, and I have to squeeze my thighs together. Jerk.

Obsidian plays with his left cuff link. Of course he does.

“I need to go remind Mr. Voss about something. It was great meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.” A quick glance at Obsidian tells me he’s still watching from the corner of his eye.

Brandon holds my elbow. My instinct is to pull away from his touch, but I force myself not to if only for the small pleasure of knowing it will irritate Obsidian.

“Make sure to save me that dance, and if I’m lucky, maybe you’ll have a drink with me afterward.”

I smile. “We’ll see.”

Then I turn and make my way over to the group of men Obsidian is standing with. They all notice me approaching, and I’d have to be blind not to see the way they check me out as I come to stand beside Obsidian. It makes me want to gag—besides Obsidian, they’re all probably at least thirty years my senior.

He seems to notice as well because he bristles, and his expression darkens.

“Gentlemen.” I give them all a polite nod. “Mr. Voss, you have a phone call scheduled in ten minutes. I just wanted to remind you.”

He looks at me. “Thank you, Miss Clarke.” Then he returns his attention to the men he’s been holding court with. “Duty calls. Guess I’ll see most of you tonight.”

They all give a round of goodbyes, telling him it was good to see him again.

“Consider what I said,” Obsidian says before directing me out of the room ahead of him.

He doesn’t say anything to me until we’re seated in the vehicle, and he’s heading back to the hotel so we can eat dinner and get ready for the ball.

“How did you enjoy yourself today, Ariana?”

The way he asks the questions feels like a piece of cheese in a mouse trap.

“It was fine. Interesting to see how things actually get done in Washington behind the scenes.” I stare out the passenger window.

“Was there something specific you enjoyed most?”

I don’t bother turning to look at him. “Why don’t you just ask what you really want to ask?”

“Was that pissant of an aide hitting on you?” He wastes no time by continuing the game.

I roll my eyes and adjust my posture so I’m turned toward him. “What is it with you? No, he was not hitting on me.” Not much anyway.

“You sure about that?”

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