“We are dysfunctional, and he was acting on his own accord.”
Stella laughs. “Wow, an honest comment from the Mayor. I’m shocked.”
“I’m not that bad,” I grin. My wine glass is empty, and Stella nods at it. I stand up with her and walk back toward the kitchen. I lean against the counter as she uncorks the bottle and fills our glasses again. “So why are you still working this case for me? Why not just pack it in and be with your sister?”
Stella takes a deep breath and hands me my glass. She sighs and glances out the window. “That wouldn’t fix anything, either.”
“I think you like me.”
She glances at me sideways and rolls her eyes. “Of course you do.”
“I’ve been here for at least half an hour and you haven’t told me you hate me once. You haven’t called me a piece of shit, either.”
“Just because I don’t say it out loud doesn’t mean I’m not thinking it.”
I take a step toward her, grinning. “I don’t think you’re thinking it at all. I think I’m growing on you.”
“Maybe you’re growing on me the way mold grows on bread.”
I laugh, inching toward her some more. “You mean quickly?”
I can feel the warmth of her body as she leans against the counter, staring up at me with those big blue eyes. She holds her wine glass between us like a shield, and I turn toward the kitchen window.
“You building a deck?” I ask.
She turns to face the window, and her shoulder brushes mine. Every part of me wants to pull her closer, to feel her curves press against my body.
She makes a noise. “My ex-boyfriend started doing that. Said I’d hurt myself on the deck.” She shakes her head and sighs.
“Ex-boyfriend?”
She glances at me and scoffs. “Yes, ex. You know, when you date someone and then you’re no longer together? I’m sure you’ve got plenty of them.”
That makes me laugh and I shake my head. “You’re relentless.”
“Funny, I was thinking the same thing about you.”
“So why did your ex-boyfriend stop building your deck?”
“Because I told him to leave.”
I grunt. My heart is thumping and I glance at Stella. She arches an eyebrow. “You got tools? Are you offering your deck-building services?”
“I’ve got tools, but I’m not sure they’re any use for building decks.”
Her mouth drops open and her eyes darken. She licks her perfect lips, and then brings her wine glass up to them. I realize I’m jealous of the glass. I wish it was me that was pressed up against that mouth. I wish it was me they were opening for, that it was my lips crushed against hers.
She puts her wine glass down on the counter and I run my fingers up her side. She shivers, letting out a small sigh as I slide my hand over her hip. I pull her closer, and she rests her hand on my chest.
“I hate you,” she whispers.
“I know.”
I pull her close and kiss her hard. She moans into my mouth, parting her lips to deepen the kiss as I wrap my arms around her waist. Stella rolls her hips toward me and I run my hands lower, cupping her perky ass as she presses herself against me.
She gasps when she feels my hardness, and I kiss her harder. I pick her up, placing her on the kitchen counter beside us. Tangling my fingers into her hair, I pull her closer. She wraps her legs around my waist and I growl.
My cock is rock hard. I want her so bad it hurts. With one hand gripping her hair and the other pulling her hips against mine, I’m holding her close to me. She whimpers in my arms, sliding her tongue between my lips and squeezing her legs around me.
She tastes like bad wine, but on her lips it’s the best thing I’ve ever had. She smells like heaven. Everything about her is perfect, and I roll my hips toward her again. I know she can feel me between her legs when she gasps. The heat of her center is pulling me closer.
Then, she presses her palms against my chest and pulls away from me. She rests her forehead against mine, panting.
“Wait,” she breathes. “Wait. Stop.”
“You okay?”
“We shouldn’t be doing this.”
“Probably not, no,” I say, kissing her neck. She pushes her palms a bit harder and I take a step back. Her eyes are full of pain and she shakes her head.
“I can’t.”
My body is pumping so full of lust that it hurts. I nod, running my fingers through my hair. “I understand. You’re probably right.”
“I got carried away. The stress… I haven’t been with anyone since…” She inhales and shakes her head. “Never mind.” Stella turns away from me and takes a sip of wine. I take a step back.
“I should probably go.”
“Probably.” She turns around and meets my gaze. Her eyes are unreadable. “I’m sorry.”
That makes me smile. I take a step toward her, running my hand over her soft cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry about. You’re probably right. We shouldn’t have done that.”
“I know I’m right,” she says, leaning into my hand. Then, she straightens up and nods. “I’ll see you at the office next week.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Her cheeks flush and she clears her throat. She leads me back to the front door and I don’t take a full breath until I’m outside on my own again.
13
Stella
No. No, no, no. No way. Uh-uh. Nope. That did not just happen.
I can’t believe I did that.
I can’t believe I liked it.
I lean against the closed door, hyperventilating. I close my eyes and drag deep breaths in and out of my lungs, and then peek through the window to see Adrian driving away.
I just kissed the Mayor. I just kissed my client. I just kissed the one man who I swore I would never speak to. It wasn’t just a kiss—the way he picked me up onto the kitchen counter…
It’s too much. I slide down against the front door until I’m sitting on the floor, wrapping my arms around my legs. I rest my forehead against my knees and take another deep breath.
This is bad.
Not only did I not quit and ask Ashley for forgiveness, but now I’m making out with Adrian freaking Maguire?! What is wrong with me? How did I let this happen?
It’s like he flashes that sexy smile at me and my insides liquify. He has this power over me that I can’t explain. I want him to like me. I want him to want me.
I groan and then pick myself up off the ground. I go to the kitchen and dump our half-finished glasses of wine. It’s just a reminder of the mistake I’ve just made. I watch it swirl down the sink, leaving a purple stain near the drain. I flush it down with some water and take a deep breath.
I stare at the counter where I was sitting. Where he was pulling me against him. Where I could feel his hard shaft pressed up against me.
I want him. I can’t deny it. I can’t lie to myself anymore. It must be because I’ve hated him for so long that the tension is too much. His stupid, sexy smirk finally won me over and I had a moment of weakness.
It’s not because I actually like the man. God, no. He’s repulsive. He’s the worst person I’ve ever met. He’s selfish, and arrogant, and conceited. He cares about no one except himself and his political ambitions.
But his arms felt so good wrapped around me, and his lips fit perfectly into mine. His body felt hard, hot, and manly.
I sigh, closing my eyes and dropping my chin to my chest.
I need to get laid. Things are getting desperate.
Putting the wine glasses in the dishwasher, I glance out the window at my half-fixed deck. The stack of timbers is still sitting where Mark laid them, untouched since he left.
I could call him. I could scratch the itch and get rid of this pressure in the pit of my stomach. It would be easy.
But as soon as the thought crosses my mind, I know I can’t do it. The thought of having sex with Mark is almost nauseating right now. I can’t believe I date
d him for as long as I did.
I know I can’t call him. I wouldn’t be able to go through with it, and it would be messy. It would give him the wrong idea.
… Kind of like inviting Adrian Maguire over to my house and making out with him in my kitchen. That might give him the wrong idea, too.
I groan, closing my eyes. The problem is, as soon as I close my eyes, I see Adrian. I still feel the whisper of his lips against mine, and the shadow of his hands on my body. I can feel him next to me, whether I want to or not.
A cold shower—that’ll help.
I practically jog up to the master ensuite and turn the shower on full blast. I strip my clothes off and jump in, yelping at the cold and immediately turning the hot water up.
Maybe a warm shower will have the same effect. I stand under the stream, running my hands through my hair and taking deep breaths. My whole body is on fire.
I know I shouldn’t go down this path, but my hands move of their own volition. Down my stomach, over my mound, until I shiver and touch my bud. The last thing I should do is perpetuate this fantasy. I shouldn’t even be thinking of Adrian this way.
But my fingers drag through my wet slit, and I lean against the shower wall until my whole body shudders. I gasp, the orgasm crashing through me with surprising force. I grip the cold shower tiles with the pads of my fingers and work my other hand until I’m completely spent.
Panting, I stand under the shower stream and close my eyes. My legs feel like jelly as the water drips over my burning body.
I shouldn’t have done that.
It was inappropriate, and I don’t know how I’ll look Adrian in the eye the next time I see him.
And yet, I don’t regret it. Delicious tingles go down my thighs as I think of him and all the things I’d like him to do to me. I wash myself slowly, and then get out of the shower and sigh.
I know that won’t be the last time I think of him when I touch myself. It was too good, too intense, too hot to stop. I may have crossed a line, but at least I was on my own.
I haven’t actually slept with him—there’s that, at least. At least I had the self-control to tell him to stop. At least I just did that in the privacy of my own shower, and I haven’t made a royal mess of it all. It’s still salvageable.
In a way, since the kiss—and the shower—my mind feels clearer. I head downstairs and make myself a cup of tea before sitting down at my computer. I find the contract that Adrian signed with Hansen Constructions for the riverfront project and I print it off.
Going through it feels like I have fresh eyes. I start highlighting, making notes, annotating, until I get into a sort of Zen state. By the time I’ve finished the contract, I think I have an idea.
The tender documents between the City of Denver and Hansen constructions don’t actually involve Adrian at all. There are no emails, no correspondences, nothing linking him directly to the awarding of the contract. For the first time, reading it over, I notice everyone else’s name. He hasn’t even signed it—the project manager for the city did.
The only connection between Adrian and Hansen Constructions is the campaign donation, and that’s not illegal.
If we could put pressure on the DA to drop the case, Adrian would avoid jail time and the embarrassment of a trial. He’d probably have to resign, but at least he wouldn’t be completely ruined. He’d save his reputation, mostly.
I write out notes for myself, and then read them over.
When I finish, I take a deep breath.
It could work.
It’s not certain, and there’s a chance that the DA wouldn’t accept a settlement even with what I’ve found, but it’s worth a shot.
I’ll bring it to Theresa tomorrow, and then we can present it to Adrian. If he agrees, he could be free of this ugly case in a matter of weeks, if not sooner.
My heart thumps in my chest. Once the case is over, would he want to see me again? Would I want to see him? Maybe the only reason he’s showing interest in me is because he knows that Ashley’s testimony could ruin his life and his career. Maybe he doesn’t like me at all, and this is just him playing the game, like he always does.
I look at my notes and shake my head. I’m being selfish and ridiculous.
He’s my client, and I need to work this case to the best of my abilities. And right now, his best shot at coming out of this unscathed is right here on my notepad. My personal feelings for him, for my sister, for Liam—none of that matters. Whatever happens after the case is of no concern to me. If Adrian likes me as much as he seems to, the case being over will be a good thing.
I take a deep, raking breath and groan. This was a lot easier when I just hated the man. Now, everything is a hell of a lot more complicated.
14
Adrian
There’s a black sedan waiting behind the gates when I get home. I drive through, glance at the license plate and my stomach drops. I’ve been spending the entire drive home fantasizing about all the things I want to do to Stella King. Now, I need to face the man I’ve been avoiding all weekend—the Governor. He follows me up the long drive and parks behind me. When I get out, I hear his car door open and close.
“Governor,” I say.
“I was expecting your call today.”
“Let’s go inside,” I say, glancing toward the gates. They seem quiet, but reporters have a habit of poking out of nowhere. Governor Hardy follows me up the steps and into the big foyer. I lead him to a smaller living room near the back of the house.
When I offer him a drink, he shakes his head. “I won’t be here long.”
I nod, taking a seat across from him. “What can I do for you?”
“I don’t take kindly to being ignored, Mr. Mayor.”
“Oliver, please,” I say, leaning back on the couch and crossing my ankle over my knee. “I wasn’t ignoring you. It’s Sunday!”
“I trust you heard my offer?”
“What, to go on an indefinite leave of absence? Is that an ‘offer’ to you? Doesn’t sound very appealing from where I’m sitting.”
The Governor leans forward. His grey eyebrows draw together and his beady black eyes get even darker. He shakes his head and points his finger between the two of us.
“This isn’t a negotiation, Adrian. You’re done. Being near you is a death sentence for anyone else’s career.”
“Wow, don’t beat around the bush,” I snort, arching an eyebrow. Outside, I’m unfazed. Inside, I’m panicking. He’s not wrong.
“You know it, I know it, every councilor in town knows it. You’re finished, Adrian. Might as well bow out gracefully. If you do, I’ll testify as a character witness. A governor’s word will go a long way.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Well,” he shrugs. “I can’t make any promises about where you’ll end up. I’d like to see you land on your feet. You’re a bright young man, but the charges against you are severe.”
Anger bristles under my skin. “Are you threatening me?”
The Governor makes a grunting noise, waving his hand in front of his face. “Please. If I were threatening you, you’d know it. Look, you gave it a good try. You ran your campaign well and surprised everyone when you won. I’m impressed you made it this far—you did good, son. But it’s over now.”
“I think I get to decide when it’s over.”
Governor Hardy chuckles and heaves himself off the couch. He straightens his jacket and checks his cuffs, then swings his eyes back to me. “You’ll learn soon enough that you have no say in deciding when this is over. I’m expecting your announcement tomorrow afternoon, at the latest.”
I watch him walk away. My head is spinning.
I went from being worried about the former police chief, to elated after kissing Stella, to this. How dare he waltz into my house and tell me that my career is over? Who does he think he is? Who does he think he’s dealing with? I’m not going to let him walk all over me. I’m nowhere near done.
Pacing back and forth across t
he living room, I run my fingers through my hair. Anger wages a war with reason inside me. If I resign—or take an ‘indefinite leave of absence’—then I most likely avoid jail time, or at least I avoid being dragged through the mud in the press. If I don’t resign, there’s a small chance I could get out of this unscathed.
The risks are big though, and not just for me. If I fight this head-on, I risk dragging Ashley, my brother, Stella, and a whole host of other people down with me. I’ve already alienated my voter base and lost so much support from the City. My riverfront project is in shambles, and I have almost no one fighting in my corner.
If I give up now, what do I gain? I’ll always be guilty in the eyes of Denver’s voters. I’ll have no prospects of a political career and then what? I go work for the family business again?
I take a deep breath and slump onto the couch. To be fair, I am guilty. Maybe resigning is the best option for me.
I think of Stella’s face, and how she looked at me the first time she saw me. She hated me—maybe still hates me, even though there’s something between us. That’s how everyone would look at me if I gave up. Everyone would hate me. Everyone would see me as the mayor who sold the City to line his own already fat pockets.
I don’t want to be that man.
Straightening myself up, I take a deep breath.
I’m not going to resign. I’m not going to give up. I’m not going to go quietly. I’m going to fight this thing to the bitter end, and I’ll do whatever it takes to clear my name.
Maybe I’ll never work in politics again, but at least people will be able to look at me with something other than revulsion.
A voice at the back of my head reminds me that I did collude with Hansen Constructions. All the things that I’m accused of are true. I’m guilty. If I resign, it might be the first step in admitting those things to myself.
Love/Hate: The Complete Enemies to Lovers Series Page 41