Page 46 of Power Games

“What an interesting world you lived in. But we’re in mine now, and I know its rules.”

She did.

From ages eight to sixteen, she’d lived in the White House; the five following years, she’d spent at Yale, before surprising everyone when she’d gone to Hollywood, instead of passing the bar and joining her family’s law firm. She’d excelled, her connections and her voice landing her right at the top. Over the course of the last five years, ‘Nessie’ had built her own empire, full of adoring fans.

She knew what she was doing; she’d lived under public scrutiny most of her life.

“It’s never going to work.”

“Charles,” Vanessa said, smiling sadly, her delicate hand resting on his cheek, before she straightened the knot of his tie, “it’s already working.”

Charles hated her then. He hated her scent, her hand, and the way his heart beat when she was this close. He hated the fact that she was perfection. The fact that they would get out of this room and sell their lies without any effort.

Because there was more truth than even she had known in the lies she’d woven to keep him out of jail. And worse yet: every single lie she’d invented, he wanted to be true.

“You’ve thought of everything, it seems. So, tell me, Vanessa, when am I going to propose? I’m sure it’s penciled in somewhere in this imaginary life of ours.”

Because that was the reason she’d helped him, the reason she wouldn’t say out loud. Why else would she risk so much for him?

This run might be screwed before it had even started, but he’d try again, and she wanted to be First Lady.

“If we want you to win this election? Soon.”

No, she was no angel.

Quite the opposite, in fact.

“Did you kill my wife?” he asked her.

He had to. And he had to observe her very closely to see if any of her features would betray a lie. None did. “No.”

“But you want to take her place.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered nonetheless.

“Yes.”

A better man might have been appalled. Izzy’s side of the bed wasn’t even cold yet.

He could have asked why again. He didn’t. Instead, Charles lifted his hand to fist her hair. He pulled her close to him and dropped his forehead to hers, inhaling her scent.

“For better or for worse, then.”

And this time, he’d honor those words.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and his dick pulsed.

It hadn’t been a full day since he’d fucked his wife. Izzy had asked him to try again three months ago, swearing she’d make an effort, take an interest in his life. She hadn’t. But still, after years of mutual indifference, they’d lived as man and wife again. She’d died less than fifteen hours ago. And now he wanted nothing more than to bury himself inside her replacement.

He let go of her raven hair. Vanessa might deserve it, but Izzy didn’t. Or perhaps it was the other way around, he couldn’t yet tell.

“I guess we’ll start with the worst bit first.”

Vanessa always managed to make him laugh. He hated her for that, too.

18

A Good Man

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