by Haley Cass
Charlotte threw another look down the hall, suspicion written all over her face, before she seemed satisfied that he wasn’t behind them. Her hands came to her hips and she blew out her own deep breath, shaking her head in disgust.
“That man is absolutely vile. And the way he looked at you? I don’t even feel comfortable leaving you alone in the same room with him for a second.”
As the nerves started to subside, Sutton managed a little smile. “I appreciate that.”
She pressed a hand to her stomach to calm her nerves. No one had walked in on their semi-public sex. Charlotte seemed to be okay, if intensely in thought. The awkwardness was over.
She tentatively reached out to draw her hand down Charlotte’s arm to get her attention. Charlotte shook her head slightly but didn’t pull back from her touch, and she counted it as a victory.
“Back to the party? Is there actually dessert?”
The side of Charlotte’s mouth ticked up. “There is.” She looked around them before she leaned in and whispered, “But the real dessert will commence at my place, later.”
She shot her a wink, before leading the way down the hall.
Sutton watched her go.
That was the woman she was in love with.
God.
Chapter 20
From the moment she woke up on the day of her second, and more formal, debate with Naomi, Charlotte was ready.
Nerves were nearly nonexistent: she’d emerged from their first head-to-head as the clear winner, and all of the preliminary polling numbers put her ahead. This feeling had followed her all morning and into her afternoon meetings with her campaign staff.
The meeting was more perfunctory than anything else. Reviewing the overall campaign so far, as there was barely a month left until the election. Picking through all of the details as a team, making sure everyone was updated and on the same page.
On the negative side of being so well-prepared and anxiety-free about her debate came the fact that she struggled to give the meeting all of her attention. Which was ludicrous because focusing on this big of a meeting should have been no problem.
Yet she found herself growing distracted more than once, her thoughts always circling around to Sutton. It was disconcerting to say the least, but she could at least blame some of her distraction on the pictures.
The pictures that had been pinned up to a whiteboard on the wall, displayed about an hour ago. Her PR specialist, Isaiah DuPont, had revealed his display a couple of hours ago – every picture, he’d explained, that had been snapped of her by any media source since the last debate.
He was thorough, it was why she’d hired him. He kept track of every time her name and face appeared in any newspaper or magazine or media outlet, and – as he’d said when he’d set the display up in their meeting room – she was “really getting out there” among the public. Becoming more recognizable.
She just hadn’t realized exactly how often she’d been “getting out there” with Sutton until it was here, staring her in the face. She’d known, clearly, about the amount of time they spent together, but they had no idea that it was so – public.
She’d known about the picture that was placed at the forefront of the display, glossy and professional, of the two of them from the night of her grandmother’s party. That picture had been in the paper the very morning after.
But the others – the one with her and Sutton walking down the steps of City Hall together last week when Sutton had come to bring her dinner. The one from a couple of days ago, when they’d gotten a coffee together. The one that had to have been taken and released from someone at the Spencer party on New Year’s Eve, of the two of them talking animatedly with someone who was off-camera –
There were just so many.
It wasn’t as though they were ever doing anything inappropriate. Their official status of friends rang true in all of the photos.
She’d never seen her own face when she looked at Sutton. And to have it staring back at her from the eye of the media . . . God, but Sutton was such an unexpected variable.
Sutton, who she’d invited to spend the night at her place more often than not in the last couple of weeks since her grandmother’s party. Who she’d found herself cuddling up to in the mornings before getting out of bed because it was so nice to have her there, smelling so good and feeling all warm.
Sutton, who had helped her prepare for her debate for hours, tirelessly, and had seemed to also enjoy doing it. Sutton, who wrote little reminders in her campaign notes and instead of feeling irritated, she couldn’t help but smile whenever she saw the neat scrawl next to her own.
Sutton, who had slept at her apartment last night and they’d spent the morning drinking coffee and tea, respectively, while working on debate prep and a term paper, respectively. And when she’d had to leave to get to this meeting, it had been second nature for her to tell Sutton that she could stay at her apartment and finish her paper, telling her to lock up when she was done.
Charlotte had come this close to kissing her goodbye, too. She’d wanted to – badly. With the way Sutton was sitting at her kitchen table, hair done in a braid over her shoulder, looking cozy and at home, Charlotte had been unable to stop herself from stroking her fingers over Sutton’s cheek, reveling in the softness and lingering more than she should have. Lingering even when she knew it was bad for her.
It was frustrating, challenging, scary, and, well, a whole host of other emotions that ate away at her in uncertainty when she was not with Sutton. Then . . . they melted into the back of her mind when they were together.
At the base of it all, Charlotte didn’t like this version of herself. This version of herself that was unsure about all these feelings, who was wanting and needy. This version of herself that knew when something was a bad idea and still did it anyway. The one who knew that there was damage control to be done to end the sex part of her relationship with Sutton in order to preserve the friendship, but who was so unwilling to actually take a step back from her.
The version of herself that she’d had no idea existed before that always seemed to come out when Sutton was near.
It was more than unsettling; it was nerve-wracking. It was irritating. She should be better than that. She could never have predicted that this, of all things, would have been when her poker face would let her down.
The last thing she needed on the day of a debate with Naomi was to see that not only was her growing Sutton-distraction an internal problem, but also externally visible.
Keep it together, she commanded herself, straightening her spine. Perhaps she couldn’t control everything – she could only fantasize about that – and not even her own thoughts at times, as of late. But she could control focusing as much as she could on the meeting.
On her debate, to be more exact. Because that did need her attention. This was her future at stake. Plus, a quick look at her watch told her that the meeting was nearly over, anyway.
Shaking her hair back, Charlotte let out a quiet sigh and looked across the table to Isaiah, who ticked his pen along the side of his paper as he reviewed, “So, in summation: after tonight, followed by your interview tomorrow – assuming all goes as expected, of course – we should see consistent polling numbers. If not a slight increase.”
It worked to take a bit of the weight off her shoulders. A small smirk tugged at her lips, and she nodded at him before turning to Helena Langford, social media expert, who slid the page full of statistics about the online presence and trackers that she’d set up in Charlotte’s name across the table to her.
“Your accounts, the searches on your name, and your websites are getting more traffic than typical House campaigns get. A significant uptick in searches in the last few weeks. Because of the light being shone on the debate tonight?” She mused, quirking an eyebrow over her laptop.
Charlotte pursed her lips in thought. More interest in this election, in her, was something they’d been hoping for and planning for; it was, after all,
the foundation for her future career being built.
Her eyes flickered to the pictures of herself and Sutton; for as much as she wanted to take complete ownership of the reason behind this increased interest, she couldn’t help but wonder.
Fuck, she hated any facet of not knowing.
Dean cleared his throat, calling their attention. “I think it stands to reason that given your family history, as well as Naomi’s, there was already a relatively higher interest in the election from the beginning. Not to mention just you being a young, attractive, intelligent, and strong woman.”
She grinned even as she rolled her eyes. “You’re already my friend and will always have a place on my team, Dean. No need to flatter me.”
It earned a small titter from her staff and the expected eyeroll from Dean.
“Political rivalry certainly has something to do with the increase in interest,” Aaron spoke quietly from where he sat apart from the others at the table.
She trusted everyone on her team, of course. But Aaron was – for all intents and purposes – on loan from her grandmother’s staff, someone who’d worked with her grandmother for nearly Charlotte’s entire life.
Given how much of his job involved keeping an eye and ear right on the pulse of secrets, Charlotte knew how valuable he was. He was someone who had seen and foretold handfuls of political scandals days or weeks before anything happened publicly, and that was only the aspects that she knew about. And she would never delude herself into thinking that politics was not a dirty game at times.
He tapped his fingers on the table. “Political rivalry, family history. The fact that Thompson and Young are both names of public knowledge and interest. The fact that two younger, attractive people are running against each other; these are all factors. And, of course, the commentary that has been made by Naomi about you, particularly in the last few weeks.”
Levity gone, Charlotte leaned back in her chair.
“Her remarks about my age, experience, and supposed nepotism have been par for the course,” she asserted, and had to pause and resolutely not let her eyes flicker to the pictures of herself and Sutton. “Her comments about my love life, slightly less expected.”
Her voice remained steady, even though the first time Naomi had made a veiled comment about her personal life last week in an interview had made Charlotte’s heart race.
Isaiah, the last member of her team that she’d disclosed her sexuality to, scoffed. “She’s tried to make an intimation about your love life, but it was pathetic. A reach. After all, the only photos you’ve been seen in – in any recent past – have been family members, coworkers, or Sutton Spencer.”
Charlotte swallowed back any nerves that wanted to surface. “That is all . . . true.”
“The searches on your name and hits on any of your social media went up after that interview, it’s true,” Helena hazarded, and Charlotte turned to make eye contact with her. “But realistically, your friendship with the daughter of a well-liked and well-respected politician – who also happens to be young, attractive, and smart – is only more good press.”
She gave Charlotte a small, comforting smile. She wished it worked. “Thank you.”
“It may be good press,” Aaron agreed. “For now.” Charlotte’s gaze snapped to him. “But I would advise you to tread carefully. As of right now, there isn’t much speculation about your lack of a romantic life. However, Naomi’s comments have started a quiet buzz on the periphery. I’m sure it’ll only get louder as you become more prominent . . . if there’s anything to hang on to.”
His gaze flicked to the pictures of her and Sutton.
Charlotte’s throat seemed to seize for a moment as complete silence took over the conference room. She could feel the stares of her team but she only tilted her chin up and maintained eye contact with Aaron.
“I know,” she admitted, and her voice was steady and firm.
She could see in the firm set of his jaw that he wasn’t finished, even before he continued, “I’m not here as an advisor or to give any opinion on how to live your life. My capacity here is to make sure you’re aware that this could cause a big reaction, and that however you plan to address your personal life in the future, we want to be ahead of anything, before it gets ahead of us.”
It wasn’t anything Charlotte hadn’t already told herself. She knew that Aaron really wasn’t voicing an opinion of any sort, but that he was someone who was all about facts.
“I’m well aware.”
There was just the damning matter of her stomach revolting when she thought about ending things with Sutton.
“There have, in the past, been several failed careers that trace back to the root of personal matters –”
“I don’t need a history lesson,” she interrupted, more than knowledgeable of the very small pool of out – or outed – politicians, and the many careers that people led in the closet. “And there is nothing to get ahead of.”
She used the tone that Caleb had in the past referred to as her “scary dictator voice,” something she generally tried to stay away from. But it worked, as Aaron offered a nod. “As long as you have all of the sides.”
Dean gave her a long imploring look. A look as though he knew just what she was feeling despite never discussing it. One that spoke of putting his own possible political aspirations on the backburner and instead focusing on the job he loved but was safe from higher scrutiny.
“I’m handling everything that needs to be handled.”
***
It was a relief that her burning, eager, competitive edge sluiced through every possible doubt she could have during the debate. That in spite of anything else on her mind, she could do this.
The tightening of Naomi’s jaw when she was asked about the motions and bills currently being worked through Congress and how her platform would work within existing systems showed that Naomi had clearly not been anticipating that question. Charlotte hadn’t been either, but she was much more knowledgeable about the current motions than Naomi possibly could have been.
The way her eyes set in a near-permanent glare at Charlotte when the moderator asked one of the final questions to her, “Ms. Thompson, throughout the campaign so far, I believe one of the biggest concerns that has been raised about you is your age and experience. It’s been something Ms. Young has mentioned several times. Is there an official comment you’d like to make about it?”
She met Naomi’s eyes, maintaining her polite but firm semi-smile. “This isn’t something I necessarily address directly, typically, as I do like for my work thus far to speak for itself, as well as the initiatives I’ve already detailed stand for themselves.” She let a beat go by, before she could feel her smile turn a bit feral. “I admittedly may not have as extensive of a work history as some of my colleagues, but I daresay it’s better than having none.”
“Ms. Young, anything you’d like to say to that?”
The tightness in Naomi’s smile was evident and Charlotte reveled in it “Yes, thank you. My opponent speaks of my lack of professional work history, but also forgets that I was married to a politician for nearly two decades. That my father was a politician my entire life; this is far from a new playing field for me. Beyond that, I have far more life experience at large. Of course, Ms. Thompson, your youthful ambition is . . . admirable,” the tone of her voice dripped with disdain. “But you have much to experience in life to come.”
There was a small tension in the room in the audience, and she felt it building as people turned their attention back to her.
Charlotte inhaled, that fire burning even brighter inside of her stomach. “I can say with absolute clarity that I’ve spent my entire adult life taking strides to make this country a better place, so your comments on my ambitions are entirely accurate. Yet, for all of your life experience, where has your ambition been?”
There was a smattering of applause and the muscle in Naomi’s cheek twitched. “I’ve worn many hats over the years. As I’m sure so many can
attest to, life experience is something that cannot be overlooked when it comes to political standing. I’ve been a wife, a mother, a widow.”
She stayed attuned to Naomi’s body language with every word she spoke, and she could tell something was coming even before Naomi stood just a bit straighter. There was the faintest bit of a gleam in her eyes as she continued, “There are universal experiences that you cannot even imagine relating to, as your own personal life has been a bit of a source of speculation in the past few weeks.”
By you, Charlotte added silently, as she forcefully pushed aside the way her stomach dipped unpleasantly. This was a Naomi tactic. Nothing more.
“My personal life experiences, as a public figure, are open to public speculation. There is no one on my romantic horizons at the moment. I’m sure anyone who had any interest in such speculation could attest that there’s very little to speculate on.” She let the corners of her mouth tilt up into a smile. “I can assure you that I know how to prioritize.”
Naomi lifted an eyebrow. “It could appear that way. Or it could appear as though one is working a little too hard to have any possible scandal overlooked. After all, the last time a politician had such a dry public image was Anthony Batista.”
The sinking feeling in her stomach was back with the smug look on Naomi’s face, like she knew she’d landed a punch. Mentioning a politician whose career was derailed by a sex scandal a handful of years ago, and drawing the parallel back to Charlotte.
Her hand tightened nearly imperceptibly against the podium for only a second before she caught herself. She took a deep breath against the lights that seemed glaringly bright all of a sudden to center herself.
Fucking Naomi Young.
She met her gaze head-on, merely quirking an eyebrow. Despite the digs Naomi had taken at her throughout the election, thus far she’d remained free from naming anything explicitly about Charlotte’s romantic or sexual life. She had to believe it was due to the fact that Naomi wasn’t without her own past rumors about her sex life and didn’t want those dredged up.