Page 8 of His Promise

COLTER

My eyes gloss over the notes my campaign manager left me in an email, and I blink to clear my head before reading the paragraph a second time.

Close. The race is close. Too much so for my liking.

I lean back in my chair and take a pull of whiskey from my glass. It’s silent in my office, and by this time at night, most of my staff has gone home. It’s exactly the kind of environment I work best in, one where I can focus completely. I’ve already taken care of my more primal needs tonight, so there should be nothing left to distract me.

And still, I can’t concentrate.

I close my eyes and roll my neck that’s stiff with tension. Taking in a deep breath, I think I smell the woman’s perfume from earlier, but I know that’s impossible. I’m showered and in fresh clothes. By now, the sheets will have been changed as well. It’s only the memory of the smell I’m registering, and it only frustrates me more.

Why can’t I fucking concentrate?

I open my eyes and click to another email, determined to get some work done tonight. I have to, with election day being a mere month away and the polls showing this close a tie between me and some Danny Do-good with a big smile and a loud mouth, I can’t afford to waste a minute. The familia doesn’t take too well to losing.

A knock sounds at my office door, and I slam my fist down on the wooden desktop, rattling the computer monitor and causing the ice in my glass to clink.

I shove from my chair and storm to the door, throwing it open and glaring at a man I recognize on my nighttime security team. He’s new and I can’t remember his name.

“What?” I bark.

“There’s a woman here to see you,” he says without seeming bothered by my annoyed state. “Should I send her up?”

Up, as in to my bedroom.

“What woman?”

The redhead from tonight flashes into my mind, and I’m flushed with a sense of excitement I can’t comprehend. She seemed… different. Not just in the way her body responded so easily to my every move, although that’s what I’m guessing is causing my dick to stir at the prospect of seeing her again. Her entire demeanor was off, and I got the slightest inclination that she expected more from me when we were finished.

Why the fuck would she be back?

He raises a brow. “She said you were expecting her.”

“I’m not expecting anyone.” I glance down the hall and then back to my computer. I really don’t have time for this.

“Should I ask her to leave?”

The redhead,Abi, if that’s her real name, teases my mind, and I reluctantly shake my head. “No, send her up. Let her know I’ll be there soon.”

He nods once and then turns to walk back down the hall without another word.

I go back to my computer and get through my emails, barely comprehending what I read. I make a note of which ones need a response before the night is over, and then I exit out of the browser.

I head upstairs, anticipation building with every step, and I wonder again why the hell she’d come back. For more? Surely not, but my cock hopes otherwise. I don’t usually want the same woman twice and specifically ask for no repeats, but I don’t have the same feeling of satisfaction as I normally do. I’m not done yet.

Maybe neither is she.

I adjust myself when I get to my bedroom door and take a breath in an attempt to steady my annoyance. It’s mainly directed at myself for allowing the woman up here at all instead of working like I should be. She’s proving herself to be more of a distraction than the quick fix she’s supposed to be.

I open the door and step into the room. On my bed in a kneeling position just as I request, is a woman with long blonde hair hanging over her head tilted in submission. My eyes narrow and jaw clenches, but I say nothing. Disappointment settles heavily in my balls, and confusion fogs my mind before a sickening sensation takes over.

Something isn’t right.

I check my watch and note that it’s eleven thirty, exactly thirty minutes after my specified time for a woman to be here, specifically a blonde.

She peeks through her hair at me when I come closer, and a seductive smile spreads over her face. “Hello, sir.”

Sir. Another request not met by the redhead.

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