Page 19 of Power Play

Not that I miss the five-dollar box dye job or the scratchy secondhand clothes, but Idomiss having a choice in what I wear and say. For a chance at being more than the trailer park stigma, I gave up control of my life. Now here I am, about to walk on stage with Politician Ken to celebrate our primary win.

Now on to the general election.

I shake my head, dispelling the list that needs to be done and checked off for the next stage of the campaign trail. That prep can wait till tomorrow, because tonight I celebrate this win. In November, my name, Randi fucking Sawyer, will be listed as Kyle Birmingham’s running mate on the presidential ballot for the United States of America.

Fucking hell.

Shit, hope I didn't say that out loud.

I cut my eyes left and then right just to be sure I’m alone in case another foul word slips. Per my etiquette teacher, cussing is trashy and unladylike. It was one of the first things they 'cured' me off. Like I had some kind of disease or something. But they can't control my inner thoughts—hell, I can't even control them. That’s where I win in the long run. I'm the picture-perfect candidate for Kyle and Shawn, but inside, I'm holding tight to the pieces they’re trying to erase. The pieces that make me, me.

I shift from one black stiletto to the other as I take one last look over the crowd. Over a thousand people wait to hear us, but not a single one I know. Taeler wasn't invited, by me, in a precise power move to keep her away from these leeches. The farther she is from this town, away from this corruption, the better.

I smirk.

Shit.

Fuck.

Damn.

Ha, they can't control me. In my head, I imagine raising a fist and shaking it in the air with my middle finger proudly extended. I glance over one shoulder, then the other, and my smile falters. The area surrounding me is vacant, signaling once again that I’m in this alone. Not even a single somewhat friend to laugh with about my crazy imagination.

I let out a slow, resigned sigh and release the curtain, the edge floating back into place.

“We're almost up, Walmart,” Kyle says behind me.

I nod and turn back toward the stage to wait for the signal to walk out.

I gasp in a lungful of cologne filled air when something wraps around my waist. Before I can process what's happening, the heels of my stilettos teeter as I’m jerked backward, back slamming against Kyle's hard chest.

“We should properly celebrate after the party, together,” he whispers against the shell of my ear.

I cough at the overwhelming smell of his cologne.Damn, does he bathe in the shit?“Not a chance,” I grit out, shoving his arm down to release his hold on my waist. “Now let me go, you fucking bastard.”

I grunt, a puff of air pushing past my lips as he adds pressure around my ribs. I gulp down tiny breaths, desperate for more than his tightening arm allows.

“All those etiquette classes and still that trash mouth of yours.” Nose against the sensitive skin of my neck, he inhales. A shiver of disgust racks my shoulders. “You feel this between us. I know you do. We can be enemies and lovers too.”

“You're delusional.” Desperation shoots through my core, turning my movements frantic. I already dislike touch. Add in this scenario…. Tears, as well as panic, set in. “Let go, Kyle.”

“Hmm, I don't think so.” He chuckles into my hair. “Keep wiggling that fine ass of yours against my dick, Walmart, and I might not wait until after the party.”

I still, the rapid rise and fall of my chest my body’s only movement. My eyes dart around the dark backstage area, desperate to locate anyone who will stop this. Movement toward the back corner catches my attention. Locking eyes with the woman with a clipboard in her hands, I open my mouth to beg for help but snap it shut at the shake of her head. A single tear streaks down my cheek as I watch her walk away, leaving me alone with Kyle once again.

“You're acting like you have a choice in this, Walmart.” The room spins, my brain barely able to keep up with the quick movement. The buttons of his dress shirt press against the exposed skin of my chest. “It's not a matter of if, but when.” Hot breath brushes over my damp cheek. “You're a fool if you think you’re anything more than a pawn in our game. Iownyou. I own you, your family, your whole fucking life. Every dollar I've paid wasn't a damn charity. It's a debt. One I will collect on one day soon.”

Focusing the building fear into panicked strength, I press both palms against his chest and shove back as hard as I can. A demented smirk spreads across his face as he eases his hold. The unexpected release sends me staggering back, barely regaining my balance before I fall to the floor.

“Now, back to business. We've gotten this far, but we still have the main election to win. And believe me, Walmart, you don't want to find out what will happen if we lose.” His cold eyes rake up and down my body, eyeing the curves my snug red dress accentuates. “Do whatever it takes to ensure a win in November. I don't care who you have to bribe, suck off, fuck, or kill. We have to win. It's not just your life depending on it.”

My mouth gapes at the insinuation.

He wouldn't. Would he?

“Kyle.” My head whips to the side as a suit-clad Shawn appears from the shadowed corner. The earlier light lunch churns in my belly at his evil smirk. “You’re up.”

“Right,” Kyle acknowledges, shifting his hungry eyes from me with a long breath. “We're up. Let's go.”

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