Page 7 of Cursed to Be Mine
I glance at him, wanting to protest, but I don’t. He’s a damn good PA and has a keen eye when it comes to public imagery. He’s been approached multiple times over the years by my superiors and competition, but his loyalty has never wavered.
Smiling, I nod at him. “Thank you, Benjamin.”
Outside on the drive, the driver of my black Lexus is already standing beside its back door. He straightens off the car as we approach, his bald head flashing in the sun, and opens my door for me. No smile graces his face; he takes his job of security too seriously – not that I mind. I’d rather not talk about whatever shit he’s into – boxing or football, assumingly. I scoot in, and Benjamin follows behind me.
As we drive through the narrow crowded streets of St. Augustine, I open the bag from Schmagel’s and pullout a warm breakfast sandwich: grilled egg, bacon, and cream cheese in a cheddar-jack bagel.
There’s another one inside, so I eat quickly, the ride from here to Flagler Hospital only being a ten minute drive.
“Mark Reynolds rose a percent in the polls overnight,” Benjamin says, facing me. His neatly styled hair flashes from brown to black and back again as the sun darts in and out due to the buildings and trees we pass. He scoots his glasses up as his phone dings. He pulls it free from his pocket and glances at it quickly before putting it away again, his full attention back on me.
“That still puts him what, eleven behind?” I say. “With today’s photoshoot, I’m sure we’ll regain it.”
Benjamin nods. “I’ve screened all the patients, so there will only be ones that photograph nicely. A girl would be better than a boy, but the boys are all particularly cute and young. No acne.”
Perfect, I think dryly as I nod. I hate this part of being mayor. The posing. The point grabbing. The need to get re-elected. It all gets in the way of actual work. Instead of dealing with the gangs destroying this city and saving the innocents caught in their crossfire, I’m playing doctor with a bunch of kids that are terminal.
My phone vibrates in my pocket twice, and my blood heats as I know that’s a message from Derek. We’re to meet tonight to go out hunting for the devil’s children, but given the texts we exchanged this morning, I am certain whatever he’s sent isn’t decent.
Benjamin would be annoyed if he knew I have a sidepiece. He picked out Aaron for me, my image, himself. I was supposed to meet my boyfriend tonight instead of Derek, but I canceled on him yesterday,claiming I would be too busy working this close to elections.
When my PA redirects his attention to his own phone, I casually pull mine out.
Derek:Waiting for you.
A picture of his cock in his hand comes through, and I swallow hard, heat hitting my cheeks.
Glancing at Benjamin, I breathe out slowly and quickly type.
Hannah:Don’t you two start without me.
My pulse thunders in my chest and in between my ears drowning out the engine of the car as we travel the last few miles to the hospital. Teasing Derek is always a risk depending on what kind of day he’s had. Given it’s still morning, I reckon he’s still in a good mood. A dominating mood rather than a punishing one.
When my phone vibrates again, my breath quickens. Benjamin is still attached to his own phone, so I open the message.
Derek:We’re going to take turns spanking your big ass and pussy for that.
My lips parting, I stare for a long time at the screen. My thighs are filled with the urge to rub against each other as a wetness pools between them.
Quickly deleting the messages and picture, I put my phone away, then turn to the window. I roll it down a fraction, needing the cool air to hit my cheeks and wipe away all evidence of my arousal before we arrive at the hospital.
If Benjamin suspects anything as the Lexus pulls to a stop, he doesn’t say anything. The hospital stretches above us, a multi-story white block building; its appealing and warm architecture belies the coldsterility inside.
I wait for my driver to open my door, and as I step out, I immediately smile at the flash of cameras shoved into my face as we walk to the door.
“What will you be reading to the children today, Ms. Davis?”
“What are your plans for dealing with the increase of crime?”
“Do you ever still think about Red Acres High?”
I turn to search the half dozen faces for the man who asked that question. Benjamin tries to gesture me forward, saying something about being late, but I ignore him.
“I think about that every day,” I say, staring directly into his camera. “My own daughter went to that school, and when I learned how close Scarlett was to those sick pedophiles, that was the worst day of my life.”
“And yet, you look well rested despite your outing of those student victims directly resulting in six of them taking their own lives.”
I stare at him in silence, my brain too in shock over the bluntness, the cruel crassness of his words. I had saved hundreds of others. Six people, four of whom had been delinquents frequently in and out of the principal’s office, was not a bad tra–
