Page 29 of A Secret and a Lie
I press onto my toes, smiling, cupping the back of his neck to draw him to me intimately and whisper, “Thank you for the dress.”
Julien and I play pretend-boyfriend-and-girlfriend well and have for years. There are countless articles written about the two of us, speculating on our relationship status, of which there is absolutely none. Though, I did once accompany him on a weekend island tripin an attempt to quell vicious tabloid rumors that he might be gay—God forbid. I’ll never understand why anyone would give a damn about who he’s attracted to. Love, in all its forms, is beautiful.
The train of my onyx evening gown skims across the red carpet as I ascend the steps on Julien’s arm, the silvery-white flowers sewn into the train catching the lights and my attention.
Julien leads us inside the State Dining Room within the White House, reaching for two flutes of champagne from a silent, passing waiter. We clink glasses and drink, the bubbles cascading down my throat vibrantly.
The room teems with people, like too many fish in a small pond. Suddenly, the couple in front of us moves, and my eyes clash with Henry Fisher’s. I smile politely, not giving anything away. But something about seeing him reminds me of our last scene, the one where he told me that the new attorney general was cracking down on things, and that seems like a good place to start.
Smiling up at Julien, I ask sweetly, “Do you think you could introduce me to Percy York?”
He quirks an eyebrow, but nods. Moments later, he’s navigating us effortlessly, yet casually, through the throng of people until we reach a tall, middle-aged man built like a tanker truck.
The man he’s speaking to leaves, and he turns toward us, and I see the age lines that mar his weathered face up close. He studies me in a manner that borders on distasteful and is certainly impolite.
Shifting toward Julien, he dismisses me with his body language. “Percy, this is my date, Allison.”
“A pleasure.” He hardly spares me a glance.
I’m sure it is,I want to respond. Instead, I simply incline my head politely.
Then, I listen.
I listen as the two of them morph from casual discussions to heavier, more interesting topics. I sift through each spoken word, mentally discarding threads of conversation and tucking away the ones that seem to hold more importance. There isn’t much that’s ofany use to me, though, not until Julien says, “Word on the street is that you’re cleaning up Washington.”
Julien sips his drink casually, hiding his panic, but I know it’s there. After all, I’m the keeper of his secrets. Secrets that would send him to prison for the remainder of his lifetime and his next. As it turns out, darling Julien’s greatest secret isn’t the fact that he’s attracted to men.
“Yep,” Percy exclaims, seeming to come to life. “I already have a few ops going. The prisons might be full when I’m finished, but at least this place will be squeaky clean.”
It appears that I have two choices where Percy York is concerned: seduction or destruction. Unfortunately for him, both lead to his demise.
Julien and Percy talk for several more moments as I memorize his words. Is he the one who’s after me? Or is he working for someone even more powerful? Who’s at the top of this thing?
More urgently, what operations does he have running?
It might be time for me to open my books again.
The evening isn’t quite as productive as I’d hoped, and I haven’t garnered as much new information as would be useful. Julien’s conversations had me camped in the corner of the room with him for the entirety of the cocktail hour, then my back was positioned to the majority of the grand room throughout the meal. It’s only now that dessert has finished, and the president has spoken, that things disperse.
Slipping free from Julien to use the restroom, I stride from the room, ignoring the eyes that track my movements like big cats in a jungle: silent but watchful.
Just as I round the corner, I slam into a body, the man’s hands catching me around the biceps, but it’s the enticing scent of black pepper and tobacco that keeps me frozen.
“We must stop meeting this way, Genevieve,” Ford remarks, dragging his hands down my bare arms, making me ache all over.The sultry sound of his voice has been humming through my dreams for weeks; the same dreams that have me waking with my hand between my legs.
Warmth blooms in my belly, desire curling from simply the sound of his voice. He smiles down at me, that damned dimple notched in his cheek. Fuck me straight to Hell because here I am, yet again, dying to lick it.
“You look incredible tonight.” It’s then that he takes a step toward me, then another, forcing me to back up until my shoulder meets a thick, white pillar. He tucks my hair behind my ear before leaning down, his breath floating across my neck, lightly brushing across the sensitive space below my ear as he murmurs, “Good enough to eat.”
A gasp leaves my lips as I close my eyes and will myself to be unaffected by him. It doesn’t work.
Pulling back, he smirks, and the expression doesnothingto stifle the deluge taking place between my legs. The man clearly knows what he’s doing to me and is enjoying every second of my suffering.
But two can play this game, and whileImight be topping from the bottom around him, he doesn’t need to know that I’m bottoming at all.
A provocative smile crawls over my mouth as I remind him, “If you’re interested in a meal, you have a sub you can contact.”
That wipes the smile from his face, and he frowns. “Genevieve, I—”
