Page 5 of Power Twist

“Sorry,” I mutter, righting myself back into the chair. I tuck my chin in the hope that Trey doesn’t catch my embarrassed blush.

What the hell was I thinking? Burying my face deeper into the blanket, I shake my head. He said stop. My heart clenches as the word repeats in my mind. Maybe it isn’t driving him crazy like it is me that we can’t be together.

Per T, the lead of my Alpha secret service team, an agent ‘mingling’ with the VP is a big no-no. Though, I haven't found that particular rule documented in my research—yes, I’ve researched. Anyone would when it comes to the sexy-as-hell agent. Since T found us in bed together that morning, he’s been adamant that the relationship Trey and I had started to form through the course of the campaign is over.

And it has been ever since that day.

Ugh, wallowing in this pitiful state does me no good. I need a distraction, to change topics, to choke on my own spit—anything to break the awkwardness surrounding us.

“Did you hear Kyle wants me at the White House tomorrow morning at eight?” I ask, my words muffled by the blanket. “He mentioned he has some topics I’ll be interested in. Sounded fishy. When has Kyle ever helped me when he didn’t have something to gain too?”

The chair tilts to the side and a groan of pain pierces the quiet as Trey shoves off the wicker to stand. Nose still tucked into the plaid blanket, I peer up to where Trey now leans with his back against a white decorative pole of the railing.

“What's he playing at?” he muses, his eyes fixed above my head, completely avoiding mine. “At least you don't have to wait long to know. Best to figure out his game plan and tackle it from there.” He glances down at his watch. Lips pursed, he resituates his coat sleeve over his wrist. “I'm out of here in a few, and tomorrow's my day off. I won’t be there—”

“It's okay,” I say, attempting to put some strength into my voice. “I'll be fine. I can fill you and T in the next time I see you.” I give him a dismissive wave beneath the thick blanket. “Go, have a good night.” The tight, fake smile hurts my cheeks, my eyes burning with unshed tears.

Fuck, why does this hurt so much? Acting like his indifference, his rejection doesn’t fucking slice me to the core. Because it does. Every step he moves away, the distance, every impersonal conversation wound my still-tender heart. The heart he softened with his sweet words and gentle touch all those scarce moments alone during the campaign.

“Randi—,” he starts, empathy dripping in his soft tone, but cuts himself off with a muttered curse.

“Forget it,” I bite out. Palms digging into the thin wooden rods, I shove out of the chair, the blanket pooling around my light gray Uggs. “See you when I see you,” I toss over my shoulder as I hurry inside the house before the pooling tears can spill over.

You’d think after two months of this cold side of Trey, I’d be immune to it by now. But nope, it still hurts.

T shoots me a confused glance as I rush past him toward the stairs. His mouth opens, readying to say something, but I stop him with a hard look. I shouldn't be annoyed at him, but he’s the cause of my current pain. He's the one who halted the one relationship I can’t get enough of, keeping me away from the one man I crave.

I make it halfway up the stairs when a lone tear escapes to drip down my cheek. I hastily wipe it away with the back of my hand before it’s visible on the security cameras for all the agents to see. The bedroom door bangs shut behind me as I storm toward the bathroom.

Hands gripping the marble vanity top, I hang my head. Every night, every day has been the same heartrending agony. Seeing him, wanting him, and not having him. Of his casual smiles, easy laughs, and cold touches. At least I only have to endure this cruel form of soul-crushing torture for 1,460 more days.

Fuck. Me.

Chapter Two

Randi

“Get me a coffee while you're up, sweetheart.”

I grind my teeth to keep the building scream from letting loose. “I told you once, Dick”—his name isn’t Richard—“I'm not your secretary or your wife. Get it yourself.”

The Oval Office vibrates with the other men's resounding chuckles. The coffee carafe trembles in my white-knuckled grasp. Four damn hours of their shit. A drop of coffee sloshes over my mug, landing on the crazily ornate coffee cart. With a muttered curse, I swipe a napkin off the stack to wipe up the mess.

“Watch your mouth with the House minority leader.” Kyle’s hot breath brushes against my ear. I fight the urge to shrug him off, slamming my elbow back into his soft stomach and forcing him back an inch instead. “Careful, Randi,” he practically growls. Gripping the offensive elbow, he gives it a too-tight squeeze. “Remember who holds your leash.”

Anger churns in my gut. I want to defend myself, say I’m not his damn puppet, but I can’t. I willingly signed the initial agreement to support him, to continue playing this game during the campaign and after, if we won, or I’ll legally be liable to pay every dime back. The massive debt he paid off, the year he's paid for Taeler's school, the expensive wardrobe, the makeover—all of it. In summary, a shit ton of money which I do not have.

“Your part is next, Walmart.”

The moment he walks away, I release the breath I was holding to keep from gagging on his overpowering cologne.

“Finally,” I mutter into my coffee mug as I turn toward the center of the room.

Five men, plus Kyle, convene around the Oval Office, chatting and laughing like they've been best friends since the beginning of time. It's all fake, I know it is—deep down, they hate each other and would do anything for the upper hand—but it doesn't make the feeling of being left out any less hurtful. I stepped into a proverbial boys’ club, and I'm the odd one out with my morals and a vagina.

At least Shawn isn't here.

I tilt my head as I list off the men’s titles in the room. There’s the secretary of state, House minority leader, Senate majority leader, plus two advisors, but no Shawn. This morning Kyle proposed to the group to select Shawn as Secretary of Interior, which caught me off guard. It’s an odd move unless Kyle has a hidden agenda behind the choice.

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