Page 59 of Power Surge

“There were two people, a couple. I just couldn't…. So I asked them to move in with me.” He shrugs, acting like the genuine act of kindness isn't as big of a deal as I believe it to be. “They were there when my parents weren't. I consider them surrogate parents at this point. I couldn't let them be homeless because my mother is a fucking bitch. It's worked out well so far. They're looking for new positions in and around the city, but there aren't many jobs out there for a live-in butler and cook.”

“Where are they?” I ask as I step backward, putting several inches between us. If I'm to meet these people who mean so much to Trey, I sure as hell don't want our pelvises touching. Call me old-school.

“They’re out for now. I wanted to tell you all this alone before you met them. It's a lot to take in.”

His teeth nibble at that fuller lower lip, allowing a bit of insight to his apprehension.

Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly. “Yeah it is. I'm just confused on why you didn't tell me sooner. Why didn't you at least tell me about the frozen accounts?” I give his shoulder a playful shove. Palms pressed to the counter, I hop up and hook my feet around his narrow hips. A gentle tug is all it takes for him to seal himself between my spread knees.

“So much changed those few days. I had a tough time processing it all myself.”

“Is that why you were so despondent those few weeks?”

He nods with a grimace. “Amongst other things.”

“You know the money means nothing to me, right?” I ask, searching his face.

“I do know that. I honestly do. Deep down I know that even if I lost everything, nothing would change between us. But that wealth and the status that comes with it has been a part of my identity for my whole life. Having that part of my identity, the safety net money like I have, or had, ripped away left me foundering. Add in being shot, you announcing Pierce instead of that fuckface Whit as your VP, and me finding out at the same time as the rest of the world?” His chest heaves with a deep breath as he runs a hand through his hair. “I didn’t know how to process it all.”

“You know the reason I chose Sam over Shawn. It was the lesser of two evils. If I selected Shawn as the VP, I’d have a larger target on my back than I do now. He would’ve manipulated and snaked his way into the president spot—”

“I know, Mess. I know.” Calloused hands cup my cheeks. “I agreed with your decision wholeheartedly and understand your rationale on why you made that choice. It was the timing of it all. It left me feeling helpless.”

Wrapping my arms around his lean waist, I tug him closer. The soft material of his T-shirt imprints on my chin as I press it against his breastbone and stare up.

“I've believed many different things about you since we first met on the campaign trail. Asshole, spoiled, twatwaffle, rich brat, idiot—”

“Are you going somewhere with this?”

My lips part, spreading into a genuine grin. “I’m getting there. ‘Helpless’ has never been a word I would or have used to describe you. And I know without a doubt I never will.”

Along the wall, a basic chrome and white-face clock ticks, marking the seconds turning into minutes as we hold each other in comfortable silence.

“All right, enough of the heavy shit. What do you want to do next, Mess? We have a half hour or so before your surprise gets here.” Pulling back, he plants a hard kiss on my forehead.

“Surprise?”

Undiluted joy radiates from his wide smile, those fine laugh lines crinkling along the corners of his eyes turning my heart to pure jelly.

“Honestly?” I respond with a loose breath. Straightening my spine, I attempt to search over his shoulder into the living room. “I have an idea. Where's your room?”

Trey inclines his head toward the darkened hallway. Twisting until his back is between my knees, he rests his chin on his shoulder to gaze back at me. “Hop on, I'll give you a ride.”

Giggling for the second time tonight, I wrap both arms around his neck and tighten the hold around his waist with my thighs as he hooks both hands beneath my knees.

“Not so tight,” he wheezes.

“Sorry,” I mutter, my lips pressed against the shell of his ear.

The agents stationed around the condo track our movements, offering confused looks. My gaze connects with Agent Wright’s—huh, almost killing someone imprints the correct name in my brain, though it’s probably not a good tactic to test to learn the others’ names—his demeanor and focus stiff as he tracks our every move. We round the corner when I find Agent Ponder also watching us closely. No, not us. Trey. Intense fury blazes in his eyes, completely focused on Trey like a predator watches its prey.

My muscles protest as I crane my neck, attempting a glimpse inside the first room he storms past. A made bed and a dresser topped with knickknacks is all I can view before we continue down the hall.

Trey opens the next door and steps inside.

The massive bed is familiar, along with all the other furniture from his previous condo which all seems crammed into this tiny room. There's hardly any space for someone to walk without maneuvering around something. Along the far wall, two racks of suits jut out, making movement on that side of the room impossible.

A high-pitched shriek escapes as I free-fall to the bed. I bounce off the mattress as Trey falls backward, landing beside me on his back.

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