Page 39 of Treason's Temptation
She was so good that Fallon, rattling off information like an FAQ page, couldn’t ruin my high going back to Treason’s house. I thought I was home free until she followed me upstairs, dumping more information on my lap—stupid information at that.
“The story of how we met is weak. We’re not winning any hearts with that.”
Fallon chuckled, “So, how do we win since you have all the answers?”
“People are nosey and tired of hearing about Treason the politician. He needs to show them Treason, the man, and right now that includes me. Put us into spaces where he can be himself, give them details about us, and sprinkle in information about his campaign.”
“This isn’t an album rollout. This is politics.”
“It’s a PR stunt just like plenty of industry relationships, so you need to start thinking like it. Reach out to In Sync’s people.We give them an exclusive sit-down with us and play that stupid game, everybody loves, Campaign edition.”
Fallon’s gaze narrowed because even she knew it was a good idea. She just hated that it was mine and moved on. There was a short list of do’s, while the don’ts were much longer, including not tweeting, posting, or liking anything without approval. Don’t move his keys. Don’t touch the stack of folders by his nightstand. Andneverthrow away anything in a blue folder.
“When you hear Cantaloupe Island by Herbie Hancock playing, do not interrupt him. If you want to argue, schedule it. If you need to vent, write it down. He will listen, but not in the moment. That’s just how Tre is wired.”
“That song could be playing right now and I wouldn’t hear it,” I groaned.
“Learn it and quickly. That’s his reset song. It means the world’s too loud and he’s trying not to explode.”
I was on the verge of exploding after all the information she dumped in my lap. Thankfully, the elevator opened, and Treason graced us with his presence while Ward lagged. Fallon couldn’t pack up fast enough, reminding Treason about their meeting and leaving.
“How was your day?” Treason asked, snatching his tie from his neck.
I resisted the urge to reply sarcastically, “It was good. Thank you for the spa day.”
“You’re welcome. We’re leaving at eight. Is that enough time?” he asked, his warmth nearing.
My shoulders tensed, focusing on Treason’s frame leaning over the back of the sofa. He kissed my head like it was the most natural thing in the world. Maybe it was for him, but my heart was racing just to produce shallow breaths that made me sweat.
His body froze above me, “Calm down. I’m not gonna’ hurt you.”
I’d heard those words before, unfortunately. It made trusting Treason’s much harder, especially how we got here. Treason pulled back slowly, giving me space and something else I wasn’t used to.
Grace.
“I’ll be in my office so I can be all yours tonight.”
“Oh joy, how did I getsolucky!” I exaggerated, as if I were in a musical.
“By picking the wrong motherfucka’ to play with.” Treason chuckled, pulling his shirt free from his trousers on the way down the hallway.
When he disappeared, Ward’s baritone seized my attention from the downward spiral.
“Tre can be an asshole, but he’s the kind you want fighting for you. Not against you.”
“He signs your check. You’re supposed to say that.”
Ward sat on the back of the couch, a recurring theme around here, laughing. I know I wasn’t that damn funny, but every time I opened my mouth, one of them laughed.
“I don’t need Tre. I work for him because the attention is so loud that it’s hard for him to see straight. That’s where I come in. I’m Tre’s eyes and ears when he can’t be that for himself.”
Ward ambled to the office, leaving Rylo to do my nails. I didn’t know how to make small talk unless I was trying to get something out of it. Thankfully, Rylo carried the conversation, asking a bunch of questions from how long we’d been dating to how we met. Treason didn’t lie. He was nosey as fuck but a good time. I laughed more in two hours than I had since meeting Treason Westbrook.
After Rylo finished, I hopped in the shower to prepare for date night. I opted for a natural glam with the form-fitting red dress Chelsea swore would turn heads. I walked into the hallway where Treason sat on the edge of the table.
“About damn,” he looked up at the sound of my heels, lost for words. That was no easy task for a man with the gift of gab like Treason. “Shit, you can go shopping every day if this is where my money is going.”
Ward chuckled, heading for the elevator, “I’ll bring the car around.”
