Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 362(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 41
LENNIX
It’s been a month since Maxim ambushed me at the coffee shop. I know he and Kimba have kept in touch, but there isn’t much for him to do right now. We’re the ones working our asses off. We formed Owen’s exploratory committee and have been discreetly raising money from interested donors, of which there are many. We’re strategizing, gathering data, preparing to formally announce that the committee has been formed. In the year or so between now and Iowa’s February caucus, there is a lot less for Maxim to do than there will be later.
Not a day has gone by when I didn’t think about our confrontation in the coffee shop. I keep waiting for Maxim to jump out from behind a bush and try to kiss me or something. He made all those declarations about wanting a second chance, getting rid of Wallace, getting me to forgive him, and then…nothing.
You sound almost disappointed.
This from my inner voice.
Well, inner voice, you can shut it.
I’m not disappointed. I’m just braced for his next move. If he’s not going to make one, why is he still in town?
I can’t tear my eyes from the large flat-screen mounted on the wall across from my desk. It’s Beltway’s “Night on the Hill” segment showing Maxim out with some DC socialite seventeen years his junior. The man is thirty-eight. What’s he doing out with a twenty-one-year-old?
Okay. Even I hear the petty in my judgy.
“Why are you still here?” I ask my empty office, plopping a carton of Indian takeout on the desk.
“Why is who still here?” Kimba asks from my office door.
Our space is industrial meets modern and is located in DC’s center city complex. We were so proud to open Hunter, Allen & Associates. We chose every piece of furniture, all the paint, the fixtures, and the rugs ourselves. It was a labor of love. This whole operation has been a labor of love.
“Oh, hey.” I poke around in my tandoori chicken. “Thought everyone had left for the night.”
“I forgot something.” She holds up a folder.
I nod and scoop up some rice. “Gotcha.”
“Why is who still here?”
Inward groan.
“Mmm, no one,” I mumble, my mouth deliberately stuffed with savory meat.
“Oh, cool.” Kimba leans against the doorjamb. “Because I thought you were asking the television why Maxim Cade is still in DC. Or even why’s he dating a gorgeous woman ten years younger than you.”
I stop mid-chew, my mouth hanging open in a way that cannot be flattering. I glare at her over a forkful of food, clear my throat, and set the takeout carton back on the edge of my desk. “So they’re actually dating?”
Kimba rolls her eyes up to the ceiling before walking deeper into my office. It’s a Friday, our casual day, and her jeans hang loose everywhere but her ass. She’s wearing her Black Girl Magic T-shirt, and her hair is pulled up to show off the regal lines of her face. My best friend is pretty damn gorgeous.
“Do you really want to know?” She sits in the Queen Anne chair I chose for its sturdiness, comfort, and loveliness.
I reach for the glasses and bottle of wine stowed under my desk and start pouring. “Do tell.”
“Maxim has set up shop here in DC.”
Red wine splashes onto the desk and my hand. “What? Why?”
“He says he can do business from anywhere,” Kimba says, watching me mop up the mess I made with a napkin. “The man’s got business interests all over the world. He says he believes entrenching himself in DC society will be beneficial to the campaign, but I have my own theory.”
Which I do not want to hear.
“Want some?” I tip the chicken toward her. “Got plenty.”
“No, thanks. You don’t want to hear why I think Maxim’s still in DC?”
I tip my head to the side and squint one eye. “I do know how to ask follow-up questions when I actually want to know something, but thanks.”
“I think he’s still in DC for the same reason seeing him with Miss Teen USA bothers you so much.”
“It does not bother me.” I do a double take. “Wait. Is she really Miss Teen USA?”
“No, but she is young. My point is I think he’s here for you.”
My heart somersaults foolishly in my chest, and I take a long draw on my wine. “I don’t care about Miss Teen USA, and I don’t care why he’s here.”
“He still thinks you’re dating Wallace, ya know.”
A satisfied smile spreads over my face. “How do you know that?”
“Because he asked me if you were still dating Wallace.”
I slam my glass on the desk. “What did you say? Tell me exactly what you said.”
“I said that from what I knew—” Her sigh is disgusted. “—nothing has changed.”
“Great answer. You didn’t lie, but you didn’t betray me. Very good.”