Page 26 of Bona Fide

Hovering my glass over my lips, I take a drink before answering. "You've been busy with that one case involving the sisters."

"Doesn't matter." He turns his body to face mine. "This is serious."

"No shit."

"Wade." His tone changes from incredulous to serious, grabbing my attention that he wants. "This is serious."

I nod, averting my eyes. "I know."

"Have you thought about what you're going to do?"

"Besides killing her—no."

Chase glances around then inches himself closer to me. "She is going to out everything if you try to get rid of her."

"I deserve it," I convey, already feeling myself start to lose everything. "I was never supposed to be governor anyway."

Another secret. Another thing I did with Demi's fucked-up blessing and encouragement.

"That doesn't matter now," Chase snaps. "You are, and you've changed the whole state for the better. You know Tim VanBorn wasn't going to do half the shit he preached about."

"Stop—" I glance over at him. "—I blackmailed people and bought votes. We both know how heavy that is."

He shakes his head. "She can't win, after the things she's done with...you can't let her kill what you've worked for your whole life."

"I'm stuck where I am unless I can find something on Demi to extort her with. Other than that, I'm still cemented where I am. It's fucked...but it's been my reality for some time now."

"I'm a fucking lawyer," Chase chides. "I can think of shit to—"

"I don't want you in this." I finish off my drink and slide over the glass. "Stay away from Demi."

"Wade—"

"Don't let me find you planning something," I caution with narrowed eyes. "I mean it. She will discredit you with shit you've only dreamt about in your head. The bitch can bat her eyelashes and start World War III if she wanted to."

“Wade.”

Fuck. My. Entire. Life. Right. Now.

Peering over my shoulder, I find mommy dearest striding in my direction. Her hunter green dress drapes over her bare shoulder, a gown too young for her age group.

“Geezus fucking Christ,” I mutter. “Do you have a gun?”

Chase snaps his neck in my direction. “What?”

“I won’t look, just press the barrel to the back of my head.” Chase doesn’t get to respond because my mother is already in our personal space with another female—my sister, Phoebe.

“My invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail again,” Mom—Nora—whatever you want to fucking call her, carps out.

I flick my gaze to my younger sister, whose head is bowed into her chest. She’s thin, too fucking frail. Which leads me to believe she’s using again. But she’s still pretty, just dumb as hell.

“Not sure,” I reply. “Phoebe might’ve smoked it.”

Nora’s eyes thin. “In front of Chase, really, Wade? I taught you manners, use them.”

Chase, being the better man between us, steps forward to greet my mother. “I’m used to him, Mrs. Lockwood, he doesn’t rattle me.”

“He can’t speak like that in the White House,” she returns, her attention still latched onto me. “It’s unprofessional and absolutely—”

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