Page 7 of Power Play

Lips against the rim of the cup, I take a slow sip of black coffee, peering over the edge to watch him survey the office.

His full upper lip curls. His scowl deepens when his attention falls back to where I sit behind the cluttered desk.

I frown at the minuscule shake of his head.

Not surprising that he finds me and the office lacking. With men like Kyle, nothing is good enough. The Birmingham name is a powerhouse in Washington, DC. Every member of the family is in some way involved in politics and wealthy beyond anything I can comprehend. He’s never had to wonder if he would eat, only when and what. And of course, he's never worked a full day, something daddy dearest ensured by paying for his education plus a generous allowance.

How do I know this?

He constantly boasted of his good fortune, being born into the right family. It added to the various ways he bullied me back in Boston. The day he learned I was Harvard's 'good deed for the century' by allowing someone of my background and financial status to attend the prestigious school, he reminded me and everyone else of the broke scum I was.

His words, not mine.

“Let's get this started, Walmart. I need to get back to the jet before your condemned office falls apart with me in it.”

I school my features to hide the blow to my fragile confidence, but the heat still builds beneath my cheeks. I’d almost forgotten the nickname he graced me with all those years ago. Fucking tool.

“Just get to the point of why you’re here so I can tell you to go screw yourself and you can go.”

Eyebrow raised, he tsks. The feeble chair wobbles as he settles into the seat. “Nice office.”

“Nice face.” Well hell. What am I twelve?

“You thought so before.”

“I chalk that brief lapse of sound judgment up to a sporadic instance of psychosis. Plus, I thought that before I knew what a gigantic asshole you are.”

His cocky smile falters, lips pressing into a hard line. “You and everyone else, it appears,” he says with a huff.

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“We'll get to that in a moment. First, I was surprised when an advisor of mine told me of your status as mayor in this shithole town. I didn’t know you were interested in politics.”

“Probably because you don't know a thing about me,” I hiss, leaning over the desk. “I wanted to make a difference in my hometown.” My main drive to come back to Boone was to be close to Taeler after missing so much of her life. A year after I moved home, the local elections came around, and the dumb fuck who’d won the previous cycles, yet done nothing to improve the town, was running uncontested—again. Knowing enough about the ins and outs of being a public servant, I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Be in a position where I could help and be in a position of power to change everyone’s view of me.

Only one came to fruition. But hey, at least the few community projects I’ve spearheaded and after-school programs are successful.

His words finally sink in, smacking me in the face. I hold up a hand. “Why did your advisor even know about me being mayor? Are you keeping tabs on me?” My voice rises with each word.

“I wasn’t until a recent development.” He leans back in the chair, relaxed hands clasped on his lap. “It was brought to my attention because I need someone like you.”

What? I collapse back in the chair, eyes sealing shut. Face to the ceiling, I blow out a tight breath. “I’m imagining all this, aren't I? I’ve officially sailed from the land of sanity, now floating aimlessly on the sea of lunacy.”

“You always were a strange one.” I peek one eye open, shooting him an annoyed glare. “It was one reason I hesitated at the mention of you for our plan, but here I am.” His eyes flick around the office, disgust written across is perfect features. “You're my only option, or I wouldn’t be here, believe me.”

“Still not following,” I mutter as I rub both thumbs against my temples. There isn’t enough Tylenol in the world to hold off the headache this man’s presence invokes.

A jostle, then footsteps draw my attention back across the desk. My horny side revels in the way his fit body folds out of the wobbling chair to stand. Long, lean fingers make quick work of his suit jacket’s buttons, securing them once again. I chew on a nail as my eyes skim up and down his fancy suit. Damn. He really is beautiful. Silky jet-black hair cut and styled to perfection makes those piercing blue eyes shine, a clean-shaven jaw showing off spotless tan skin, straight nose, and dimpled chin create a Greek god come to life.

No guy should be this pretty. Evolution fucked up with him in so many ways. Why make a man with all that and a greedy black heart?

Yes, his behavior in law school was cruel, but his malicious nature goes deeper than name-calling. He's corrupt greed personified. It’s in his arrogant looks, the emotionless aura surrounding him. There’s no doubt he would take me out right here in this office if he heard it would benefit him monetarily or advance his career.

But that’s a modern politician for you. Kyle Birmingham is one of thousands of corrupt bastards in DC. In that city, it’s who can bribe or blackmail to get what you want done for yourself. It has nothing to do with doing right by the American people anymore. Their voice has been forgotten, thrown aside by the politicians assuming their superior mind knows what’s best, when they haven’t lived a day below the 1 percent—hell, below the upper middle class.

I shake my head to clear the random internal rant. Suspicion and curiosity grow as Kyle paces from one side of the office to the other.

He pauses, turning with his perfectly plucked brows pulled together. “I'm running for president in the next election.”

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