She leans up to climb off my lap, but I fling my arm around her waist and pin her down. I drag my lips over her ear. “When I found out what your father did, I wanted my revenge, yes, but I also saw the opportunity. We know that this is his final term, but it made me realize how much better this country needs. Deserves.” I pause, sucking in a deep breath and waiting for her to turn back around to me. Slowly, she does. Good girl. “Are you with me?”
She licks her lips. “On one condition.” Her eyes search mine. “I will help you bring him down. But after that, I need you to do something for me.”
“Anything,” I say, searching her face. Her soft lips. Green eyes and the lashes that fan out around them. Everything shatters inside of me when the next words she says come out of her mouth.
“You have to let me go.”
I just can’t.
I got a little drunk last night. I let myself go way more than I wanted to. After telling Bryant that my condition was for him to let me go, I drank more gin than what is humanly acceptable, and there may have been dancing on a table…
Alas, it’s also my table, technically.
“What are you thinking?” Bryant asks, flicking his cigar between his fingers.
“I’m thinking how are you going to run for president when you can’t even control Devon.”
Bryant rolls his eyes, pushing off from his chair and making his way to the window in his office. “Because I handle you just fine, and your attitude is about the size of two Americas, three Canadas, and sixteen Australias.”
There’s a knock on the door and we both turn toward it. I was hoping to see Devon, or even Max, but neither of them walk through, instead I see long blonde hair and legs that go on for days.
“Stacey…” I murmur, my eyebrows raised before going back to Bryant. “Kind of thought you would disappear since we know your plan.” I sink into my chair, massaging my temples.
Stacey offers me a small smile before walking straight to Bryant. She’s wearing a pencil skirt and heels high enough to send my ass tumbling to the ground. They begin talking under their breath.
“Well, am I intruding? Because I can leave,” I snap, annoyed at their rudeness.
Bryant looks up at me from under hooded eyes. “Sit your ass down, Isa.”
I hate when he makes me feel like a scolded teenager.
Stacey leaves, but my eyes remain on Bryant. “Why is she still here? Are you marrying her?”
“Depends,” he challenges, squaring his shoulders. “Are you still leaving?”
I snap my mouth closed. “You’re an asshole.”
He chuckles, inhaling a cloud of smoke before exhaling. “You already knew that, baby.”
When I don’t answer, he clears his throat. “Stacey is my executive assistant, Isa. She always has been.”
Anger simmers beneath the surface. I clench my jaw so tight I can almost feel my teeth snap in my mouth. “Can we get this over with?”
Because I want to fucking leave.
The door swings open behind me again and this time Devon walks in, his face pale and his fists clenched. “I have to say. This election is going to be the death of me.”
“So you want to remove him from office? Why don’t you just wait it out?”
Bryant takes a seat on his office chair. “I don’t need to remove him. I just want him to hurt.”
“We could just kill him.” Devon shrugs, taking a seat on the chair beside me, as someone else enters and kicks the office door closed behind him.
“You can’t kill him,” Max says to Devon. “It’ll cause too much commotion and James Taylor is just as bad if not worse than Johnson.”
I sigh, squeezing my eyes shut. Their voices die out in the darkness of my brain. Fatigue wraps itself around my bones. “I’m tired.” I’ve tried to continue with this same song and dance that plays on repeat in the background, but the more I dance, the weaker I get. I can feel myself slowly slipping into a territory that I shouldn’t be in.
I know what I have to do. As much as I wanted to see this through, to see my father suffer because of all of the suffering he put me through, I know that I can’t.
I have to go.
My eyes open. I stand from my chair, curling my lips between my teeth. I make my way to the window that overlooks the driveway. “The old me would want revenge. I’d want my father to bleed, die for his sins. But—” I turn to face them. “I don’t have the energy. I’ve lost too much.”
Before I can stop myself, my feet begin taking me toward the door. My fingers flex over the handle. “You guys can do what you have to do, but I’m done.”