Page 35 of Treason's Temptation
“I’m not home often, and it’s usually just me.”
“So there won’t be any playmates poppin’ up for a visit?”
“None, so go to the store and grab what you want. Ward will take care of it.”
“We’regoing grocery shopping.”
“We?”
“You’ve been speaking French since we met. Don’t get confused now.” Treason’s face grew rigid with annoyance, but I didn’t care. He’d get the red-carpet treatment until the election, or he grew tired of me. Whichever came first, and I was praying for the latter. “Besides, it might help if people see you doing regular shit.”
He nodded, agreeing. “Way to get your head in the game,Pippen.”
“Please,” I groaned, my hand on his chest stopping him from coming any closer, “Winning this is my only shot at freedom. You get the job, and I can get the hell away from you.”
Treason chuckled, starting the coffee machine.
“Our names are linked for life, might as well enjoy the perks.”
“No thanks. I need a shower. Where are the towels?” I asked because the guest bathroom lacked necessities like his refrigerator.
“Ourbedroom.”
Rolling my eyes, I marched down the hallway. Treason’s cologne still hung bold, expensive, and annoyingly good in the air. His bedroom wasn’t what I expected. A pair of shoes kicked near the dresser. A cufflink tray with one missing. A glass on the nightstand, half full of melted ice and something amber.
My eyes dropped to the slightly cracked drawer on the nightstand. Curiosity won again, tugging it open, expecting something juicy.
Gummy Bears.Bags of Haribo brand.
Treason Westbrook, who could have imported gourmet chocolate, kept gummy bears in his nightstand like a kid sneaking snacks after bedtime.Something about it was so human, I smiled even when I didn’t mean to.
His bathroom wasn’t about vanity any more than his bedroom. I grabbed a towel and climbed into the steam, trying to wash away the last few days. Internally, my nervous system was a wreck, but his fancy shower helped to relax the tension. Twenty minutes passed without my realizing it. I stepped out, wrapped in a thick towel that could’ve passed for a blanket. Then Treason appeared, leaning against the doorframe, watch gleaming, and his mouth curved into that smug half-smile.
I blinked, startled. “You don’t knock?”
A passionate fluttering attacked the nape of my neck as Treason raked his bottom lip between his teeth. He studied every bead of water dripping from my polished white tones to exposed shoulders that led him to my chest. I snapped my fingers, forcing Treason’s eyes to my face.
“You don’tlock,” he countered, “You asked for a towel, not the whole damn bathroom.”
“I like this bathroom,” I admitted, stepping around him with whatever dignity a damp towel could offer. “You’re not as polished as you pretend to be.”
His smile didn’t shift, but his eyes narrowed slightly, like I’d touched something I wasn’t supposed to.
“Everything isn’t for everybody’s eyes and ears.” The soft ding from the elevator startled me, followed by an animated voice that floated through hidden speakers. “Get dressed. We have company.”
Treason walked off, and I followed behind to the guest room, crashing into a comfortable voice yelling, “Treason, let’s go! We’re already behind.” Until she rounded the corner and caught me standing in the hallway. “Looks like y’all are having fun getting acquainted.”
“Who are you?” I asked, getting to the point.
“Fallon Nichols. Treason’s chief of staff.”
“Are you fuckin’ him?”
My question made Fallon shift, staring at the floor, but Treason stepped in before she could land a rebuttal.
I shrugged, “I don’t care if you are. I’d just like to know what kind of circus I’m a part of.”
“Watch your mouth. Fallon is my homegirl, so don’t worry. You have me all to yourself.”
