Page 44 of Power Games

"Then let's go. I intend to cooperate so you can get to the bottom of what happened right away, sir."

His eyes went to Vanessa, meaningful. He knew what she'd done, with the excess of details. Giving him information, in order to keep their story straight.

"I'm staying in the Federal Suite," he told her. "Wait for me there?"

He handed her his key. She reached out to take it. Her hands were cold, but unlike his, they weren't shaking. Her eyes were steady, calm and confident.

When they asked him about his whereabouts, he stuck to her version, her timing, and said nothing more.

After identifying the corpse, which was indeed his wife’s, he was released within a couple of hours.

Charles felt sick to his stomach. Izzy had been so white and still. And he’d lied. He’d lied, because the truth was that no one had been with him the previous night. The truth was that he was the ideal suspect, and no detective would have looked further. His prints were on every surface, on his kitchen knives, on Izzy’s skin, and there was plenty of his DNA inside her cold pussy.

The evidence said he was guilty.

In more way than one, they weren’t wrong.

17

Dancing with a Viper

Charles had started to realize that the woman he’d admired for years, and perhaps even loved, was no angel. No angel lied with so much ease. What she was, though, he didn’t know. Not yet.

She opened her door and took a step back to let him in.

He’d never seen the Imperial suite; it was similar to his, except for an extra room, and the large balcony giving a clear view of the White House.

Charles headed out that way and breathed in and out, attempting to clear his mind. Eventually, she joined him, handing him a tumbler filled with amber liquid. Whiskey, no rock, a dash of water. She knew him well.

It wasn’t even two in the afternoon, but he drank it nonetheless. He needed it today.

“Why?” he asked, finally.

“You were framed,” she shrugged. “I saw you walking in the hotel last night. I heard you next door. You were here all night.”

Not with her, though. And she’d lied. “He was with me all night,” she’d said, to the police, no less. Reporters had been within hearing range. No doubt they already had a hashtag trending.

She was a true American sweetheart loved by almost everyone, and she’d compromised that for him.

It wasn’t only the fact that they were both entangled in a murder now; even if—when—they were cleared, she would still be that girl, in the eyes of the people. The one who’d fooled around with a married man. No such scandal had ever been attached to her name until now.

“That’s not an answer.”

Why had she risked all that for him?

She managed to force a smile. “And you don’t need one. We’re in this together now, that’s all that matters.”

It hit him, then. Shewantedto be in this mess with him. By his side through thisand for what would come after.

His mind was racing.

“What will we say?”

She bit her lip.

“That we met seven years ago, at Dad’s. That we go along, then. I was a young girl who made you laugh, although you were in no mood to joke around. Since, we’ve met perhaps a handful of times, and exchanged a few words,” she said. “Until two years ago, of course.”

Charles raised a brow. That much wouldn’t be hard to recall, as it was exactly what had happened.

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