Page 9 of His Promise

This woman is from the agency.

Which probably meansAbiwas not.

Fuck.

“Get out,” I grit before I lose my temper on her.

“Excuse me?”

“I said,get out. Are you slow or just stupid?”

Her eyes go wide, and her mouth drops open. I’m a bastard for it, but seeing her shock takes away an ounce of anger building and replaces it with amusement.

She snaps out of it, and I watch as her confusion morphs to anger. Her hands ball into fists, and she scrambles off the bed. “Fuck you,” she says, looking me dead in the eyes with her spine straight.

Thisis a woman who’s done this before.Thisis a woman who isn’t afraid of a man like me.

I prefer the redhead.

My lip twitches, and I shake my head. “Not tonight.”

She gives me one last glare before stomping from the room and slamming the door behind her. Her six-inch heels clink on the hardwood as she walks away.

I turn back to look at the bed, and all the amusement lightening my anger suffocates. I shake my head and head to the bathroom to strip from my clothes and take a cold shower. Donovan, my campaign manager, warned me about bullshit like this. Opponents stooping to the lowest of low to get dirt on me. I just didn’t think Danny Do-good had it in him to send some bitch to pose as a prostitute. Donovan is going to lose his head when I tell him about the woman, so it’s best if at least one of us has had a chance to cool down.

I take off my watch and slam it on the bathroom counter, not caring if it cracks. I can’t think about anything right now except that fucking cunt. I run through everything I said to her and am mildly relieved when I can’t think of anything too damaging. Considering who I am and all the family ties that are so blatant with my last name, I have my doubts that fucking prostitutes will be the headliner my opponents use, but the polls are too close for me to be taking chances.

One of my cufflinks skids off the sink when I toss it, and I crouch to the tile to retrieve it. My hand touches the gold family insignia, the only one I allow myself to don in public, and something red catches my eye.

I shift my gaze to the trash can where a red blazer is stuffed inside. Abandoning the cufflink, I lift the blazer out of the trashcan and clutch it tightly in my fist.

She wasn’t just posing as a prostitute. She posed as a server at one of my events too.

Why?

I glance around my bathroom slowly, remembering she was in here when I came in.

She waslookingfor something.

I storm from the bathroom and to my nightstand where my laptop is. I throw the blazer to the bed and open up my computer, studying it to see if there are signs of anyone tampering with anything. There’s no telling what she could’ve found if she somehow bypassed my password. There’s no telling what sheknows.

I need to call Donovan.

But first, I need to find out who this bitch is.

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