Page 139 of Bona Fide

“Somewhere I’m sure you won’t have a shot at, Wilson,” Wade grumbles behind me. My eyes snap to the spot he was just standing in two minutes ago before pivoting on my heels to look at him.

Instead of landing his glare on my new friend, it’s directed at me. A special little thing we’ve had going on for the last twenty-four hours that we’ve been here.

“Mr. President,” Wilson beams, completely shoving aside that Wade just insulted him and subtly told him to fuck off. “I’ve been waiting for a chance to meet you.”

“Write your questions down and I’ll be more than happy to talk to you about them over brunch tomorrow.”

Geezus. Asshole.

“Yeah…that sounds great.” A wave of black suits surround us, and Wade takes a step closer to me.

“Will you excuse us, Miss Shelton and I have some things to discuss about tomorrow.” I think he’s going to manhandle me and pull me away, but he lets his men herd me away like a sheep from Wilson, not even giving me the option of sending him away with a “peace out” or “so nice having a basic conversation with you”.

Up the white steps towards the lobby, Wade comes to a stop at the top.

“That’ll be all,” he voices as I come up to stand next to him. They immediately step back to their original posts, leaving me to fend off another roadblock. “Would you like to go somewhere else, Miss Shelton?” I can feel his eyes looking down on me, but I dare not look up.

Why bother?

He’s only going to keep his scowl glued to his face, and I’ve seen that enough for me to cherish them for lifetimes to come.

“The whole point, Governor, was to get away from everyone. And by everyone, that includes you too.” He gestures with his hand for me to go ahead, and I do, striding through the lobby of the resort with a rush in my step.

Taking a left to go down to my room, that pesky, amazing smelling cologne follows me.

I know better. I’m aware of the bullshit actions that Wade Lockwood demonstrates to his enemies.

And that group of people—that includes me now.

However, I’m not intimidated by his title, the career he built for himself, or the things he’s done to get there.

I’m threatened by the way he makes me feel. A mixture of affection and loathing. A variety of emotions that never die but age because they’re filled with self-loathing on my part and regret on his.

Door, meet face.

The President of the United States’s face.

You’ll never get that opportunity again.

With my key card, I quickly get it to open just for his hand to make sure my original and the first-thing-he-probably-thought-I-would-do plan doesn’t work.

I spin around to lay into him, but his hand lands on my stomach as he shoves me back so he can close the door behind him.

In the dark, only the moonlight that’s been cast over by a cloud fills the room. My back hits the wall, but Wade doesn’t step into all of my space yet, just some of it. Enough for my breathing to start performing erratically.

“Do you know what today is, Miss Shelton?” he solicits casually, his silhouette filling out like a monster that shows up out of your closet, making a sudden sound that sends prickles of goosebumps up your spine.

I stare into his chest. “The day you get fucked?” A deep chuckle resonates in his chest as his hand comes up to the wall right beside my face.

“Not today,” he objects. “Today is the day of an anniversary.”

“A what?” My brows descend, keeping my palms planted on the walls so that they don’t leave a mark on him to have to explain later.

We don’t need good ‘ole Wilson making up stories. I’ve played the main character in one too many of those.

“Do you remember what I said in my penthouse on New Year’s?”

“No.” He pushes a piece of my hair away from my shoulder with his other hand, and I suck in a silent intake of air.

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