Page 4 of Power Twist

We weave through the crowd, my wide smile falling the closer we get to the exit doors. T says something into his sleeve, and the double doors just ahead swing open.

A girl really could get used to this.

From trailer to vice president in less than two years was a big culture shock to say the least. Yes, the clothes are different, the food is better, and the 24-7 security is a nice perk, but it's the absence of financial worry that's the biggest change. Before, every minute of every day was spent worrying about money and how I needed more. A lot more.

My heels click on the concrete stairs as I descend toward the awaiting limo. A shiver of apprehension causes me to stumble forward, and I barely catch myself before toppling the final few steps. Tonight, the party plus the limo home is all too similar to the night someone attacked me last year. Even though the person was caught, we still don't know who was behind it all.

Our guess? Shawn Whit. There wasn't any evidence to support our claim, but me, my secret service team, we all know it was him.

I slide easily across the smooth black leather seat as I scoot toward the center. I tug the dress’s train so it doesn't catch in the door when a head dips inside. Honey brown eyes meet mine in the shadows of the limo, a familiar sexy smirk pulling on lips I’m dying to taste again.

“See ya at home, Mess.”

The door slams shut, locking me inside alone.

Home. At least for the next four years. Four years to make a difference in the world for the working class and those many Americans who fall below the poverty line. I promised them I’d be their voice if they voted for me. Now it's time to come through on those promises.

Leaning back, I close my eyes and sigh, letting the night’s stressors fade.

Now the real work begins.

* * *

I wrapthe thick blanket tighter around my shoulders, warding off the damp late night air. Large puffs of frosty breath cloud with each exhale before floating down the wraparound porch and vanishing into the night. This porch is one of the many beautiful perks of my new home. One Observatory Circle isn't new by any means, but it is updated, and the character of the old Victorian is priceless in my eyes.

The white wicker chair creaks as I shift to tuck my knees against my chest. Wrapping the blanket around my shins, I stare out into the backyard, focusing on the brilliant crystal clear waters of the swimming pool. Yep, I have a swimming pool. A heated one at that. I shake my head and rest my cheek on top of my blanket-covered knee.

“Long night?”

My cheek slides against the blanket as I smile at the familiar voice but don't turn to look.

“My partner in crime was nowhere to be seen, so yeah, long night.” I close my eyes and sigh. “Where were you anyway? I looked for you.”

A suited waist steps into my line of vision, forcing me to tilt my head back to meet Trey's eyes.

“You know I can't be with the inside detail during those things.” I nod in understanding when I really don't. “It's best if I stay hidden. It makes it easier on everyone.”

“You mean you,” I say with a shrug. “I missed you. I mean, I love T and all, but you’re more fun.”

Trey squats, putting us eye to eye. Two fingers slide along my forehead before tucking a rogue lock of dark hair behind my ear. A shiver zaps down my spine, heating my core at his touch.

“You looked beautiful,” he mutters while his eyes scan every inch of my face. “It's why they hate you.” I raise my brows in silent question. “All those women, they spend thousands trying to replicate what you have naturally.”

Actually, it’s not naturally. I shake my head and break his gaze to press my chin to my knee. The way I look now—the perfect skin, gorgeous healthy hair, weight in all the right places, zero wrinkles, and straight teeth—is due to the man I hate. Kyle Birmingham. Looking the VP role was part of the initial agreement. Now here I am, the perfect political Barbie.

At least I don't have to lie about my background anymore. Everyone knows my cringe-worthy upbringing and still voted for me. I say voted formeand not Kyle, since I'm the reason he won the White House. He said from the start most voters didn’t want another pompous politician which is why he came to me in the first place. After my background was unexpectedly released to the media the polls swung in our favor proving without a doubt I’m the reason we’re in these new roles not Kyle.

“You know all this is fake,” I say, waving an edge of the blanket toward my face. “Kyle paid a lot of money to help me look this way.”

“No.” I side-eye him, watching his face scrunch in determination. “Maybe all that stuff helped enhance what was already there, but you, Randi Sawyer, are beautiful with or without that shit.”

I give him a shy smile. “Thanks. I'll stick with believing the truth though. But you can keep believing that lie all you want.” I laugh.

For a few seconds, neither of us says a word, building taut tension with each passing second. Like a magnet drawn to metal, an unseen force urges me closer to Trey until I'm almost toppling out of the chair right into him.

The past few months of staying apart, fighting this natural draw, have been hell. All I want is his calloused hands cupping my face and pulling me close. His lips sliding against my own while his fingers twist and pinch, creating the delicious torture I miss.

“Randi,” Trey says reluctantly. His hot breath warms my cheek. I blink, pulling back an inch, surprised I’d gotten so close. “Please stop.”

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