He pressed a knee between her legs, spreading them apart. “Did you have a good Christmas?” he asked.
Now was the time for him to ask about her day? “It was fine,” she managed, right before he stroked a finger inside her.
He kissed her jawline. “Did you like your presents?”
What a little fucker. “Yes.”
His thumb found her clit again. “Which one was your favorite?”
If she didn’t say the necklace, she knew she’d be in trouble. Truth be told, it was her favorite gift. But she could string him along a little. He was playing one of his preferred games, periodically removing his fingers then putting them back inside her again.
“I really liked that stand mixer,” she said softly.
She knew him well enough by now to recognize when he was trying not to laugh. “Oh, really?” he asked.
“Yes,” she stammered. He slid another finger inside her. “I can make some really nice – cookies with that thing.”
“I bet you could. Are you sure that’s your favorite?”
“Are you going to give me anything else?”
He chuckled, withdrawing his fingers again. “Perhaps. It needs to be unwrapped.”
He’d given her an opportunity and she intended to seize it, both literally and metaphorically. Caroline reached into his pants. “Am I close?”
His soft groan washed over her like the sweetest rainfall. “Very,” he said.
“I think I like this present the best,” she said.
“Are you sure?”
“The necklace is a close second.”
He guided his cock inside her. “I suppose that’s an acceptable answer.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning her head back against the wall. He moved slowly, keeping his hands gripped to her hips and pressing his lips to her collarbone, near where the necklace lay.
“Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered.
She smiled, wondering where he would take her next. “Merry Christmas,” she echoed.
Chapter Nineteen
The Past
Caroline couldn’t remember how many Christmases they’d spent in Philadelphia. If memory served, they’d been at Jack’s house for every winter vacation since they’d gotten married. The wishes of her children had a lot to do with it. When indoor sports and basement movie theaters were on the menu, they jumped at the chance. In December there was little to do outside and plenty to occupy them inside the expansive home.
Their holiday was subdued. They normally would invite Jack’s brother and his family over, or spend part of the day with the Sullivans, or find some other way to make it far too excessive. This Christmas was different. Jack and Caroline had started burning their bridges and were feeling the heat. The governor and first lady normally received scores of invitations to holiday parties and community gatherings, but this year they’d received no more than a handful. And had turned them all down to protect their potential hosts as much as themselves.
Marguerite and Sophie were largely immune to the effects. Caroline didn’t want them to suffer for the actions of their parents and hoped they hadn’t noticed that she and Jack had spent most of December at home instead of going to a different event every night.
Having a grand Christmas seemed like too much. They sang songs and ate rich food and exchanged presents but there was a gap there, one Caroline couldn’t put her finger on. When the girls went to bed, she almost wanted to beg them to come back. Once they were gone she and Jack would have to confront whatever was floating in the air.
She’d made two trips to the kitchen for some cookies and another glass of wine and was about to make a third when Jack grabbed her arm.
“Are you going to do this all night?” he asked.
Caroline put her empty dishes on the side table and sat down on the couch. “Can’t fool you.”
He put his arm around her. “Never could, but I wasn’t going to say anything when the girls were awake.”
She felt guilty for leaving them out of so much of their planning, but it was safer that way. The less their children knew, the better. Eventually they’d have to learn more than they wanted to, anyway. Caroline dreaded that day.
“You did a good job with dinner,” she said.
He withdrew from her. “How long do you want to keep this up?”
Caroline might not have been playing dumb but she had been going for avoidance. She laid her head on his chest and felt his arms come around her shoulders. He would never deny her affection if she asked for it.
“I was going to try for a few more minutes,” she said.
Normally Jack would chuckle at a joke like that. Not anymore. “We may as well hash things out now,” he said. “Before we go back to Harrisburg. I’d rather enjoy the last few days we have here without worrying about it.”
He’d been making some calls, having some lunches. With people he didn’t normally lunch with. But it wasn’t as if their social schedule was booked. She waited for him to take the first step.
“I finished the financials,” Jack said. “Various locations, various amounts.” He lowered his voice. “Our passports are up for renewal, too. So I took care of that.”
Their passports weren’t due to expire for years. He couldn’t even say what he’d done. They were perfectly willing to engage in illegal conduct but would never talk about it. “Okay,” Caroline said.
“Tom knows about the trust. I told him a couple of days ago over drinks.”
Jack had come back buzzed enough that she was glad he had a driver. Caroline hoped that Tom hadn’t imbibed as much, since he didn’t. “Good.”
“I mentioned that the money was as much for them as it was for the girls.”
Caroline sighed. He got to go first, which meant that she got to tell Tom’s wife. “I’ll talk to Chrissy. Can I leave out the part about sharing the money?”
“If you think it will be more of a hassle, don’t mention it. Tom knows and that’s enough. I’ve got copies of the other papers for you as well.”
She wrung her hands. “I figured I’d tell her after New Year’s. I’d like to get through the holidays without any added stress.”
Jack rubbed her shoulders. “It’ll be fine. This is just a precaution. None of what we’ve feared will come to fruition. Everything will be back to normal soon.”
Caroline struggled with evading the issues but his attitude was positively cavalier in comparison. “Listen to yourself, Jack. Come on.”
He leaned back. “I was trying to be optimistic.”
“I never thought this would happen,” she whispered.
“I know,” he said.
“Things are already changing.”
“I know that too. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.” He cleared his throat. “We need to make some layoffs.”
She turned toward him, surprised. “Of our staffers?”
“Yes.”
Caroline felt an irrational rage building up in her chest. “I’m not letting go of Katie.”
Jack took her hand. “That isn’t who I meant. She has to stay, for a number of reasons.”
Reasons they didn’t have to say. “Then who?”
“Your administrative assistant. My low level staffers. Some of the personnel at the mansion. There’s nothing for them to do and being attached to us does them no favors.”
Thinking about firing their devoted employees was worse than thinking about the trust fund. “We’ll have to give them notice.”
“And a generous severance,” Jack said. “If we’re going down we may as well do it properly. They deserve to be properly compensated for their trouble.”
They’d already moved most of their liquid assets into offshore and foreign accounts, with Jack tidying up the rest. Misuse of government funds or other unethical conduct would be an effective excuse for anyone looking to take them out with a scandal. Although Caroline suspected that wouldn’t be how it would play out.
He rose from the couch. “How abou
t a trip to the ballroom before bed?”
After the curveballs he’d thrown her? She wasn’t in any mood to dance. It didn’t feel right. “I don’t know.”
“Come on.” He was good at recovering and staying sanguine. “Give me one more Christmas present.”
“I was planning on giving you your last present in the bedroom.”
He pulled her up when she extended her hands. “I’d rather do it while we’ve got some romantic music playing.”
“The floor is hard.”
“We can do it against the wall like we always do.” He tugged her arm. “The night won’t last forever. Let’s go.”
* * * * *
A wide, flat box on the table next to the door. Jack expected her to open it automatically after years of them hemming and hawing and flirting and flaking. Playing their little games that ended with them in a tangle on the floor or in the bathroom or in their bed. They usually started against the wall but sometimes gravity got the best of them. This year would be different. Their passion tempered, their minds scattered.
Caroline gasped when she opened the box. Freshwater pearls. Jack had given her a different necklace every year. Whatever jewels he could think of, and as grandiose as possible. Why had he done it this year, when so much was in flux? Would any of it even matter as time went on? All those presents, all those gestures, all those expensive purchases. She wondered if someday they’d all disappear.
Such talk was silly. Nothing would happen. Life would go on as it always had. The excesses of the Santos Administration couldn’t last forever. All her worrying and all their planning wouldn’t matter and everything would return to normal. Just like Jack had said.
She stared down at the box. At the brilliant, almost perfectly shaped orbs catching the light. She knew better than to ask. They were expensive as hell. One more pretty prize to add to her collection. One more present from a man whose grand gestures grew with each passing holiday. Caroline was determined to appreciate the gift, though she had her reservations.
“You didn’t have to do this,” she whispered.
He took the box out of her hand, carefully removing the necklace. “It’s tradition.”
They didn’t have many but he made sure to observe them all. “Does any of that matter anymore?”
“It matters to me.” Jack placed the pearls around her neck and kissed her softly. “Did you know that no two pearls are alike? Each one is completely unique, like a snowflake. The ancient Romans only allowed their emperor to wear them. They were that valuable. That precious.” He kissed her again. “Like you.”
She blinked and tried to look away from him, but he tipped her chin up. He didn’t stroke her cheek, didn’t kiss her, didn’t do any of the things that he did on their Christmas nights. Her eyes were drawn to his and for the first time in months she looked at him. Really looked at him.
They’d spend their days hustling around, doing whatever they could to keep themselves occupied. There were times when Caroline would barely see him. How often did they study each other? They had very few emotions or thoughts left unsaid but Caroline very rarely made the effort to focus on him. On his features. The way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, or the sound of his laugh. The way his hair would fall into his face when he was working late at night. The way he’d stare at her when he thought she wasn’t looking.
He was starting to look his age. They both were. Stress could destroy the body in a way that nothing else could. But she didn’t care. It didn’t matter whether Jack was young or old. Whether he was healthy or not. Whether he was angry or sad, joyful or indifferent. He was hers and always would be.
The ballroom remained silent save for the ticking of a clock. Neither one of them moved. The world ceased to exist. They were alone but they were together, and that was all that mattered. They stood there, their eyes locked together, until Jack lowered his gaze. The briefest of moments passed before he took her in his arms again.
“You are my everything, Caroline. My world, my life, the reason I exist. We’re going to get through this. I promise.”
How could he say that? She could sense that things were changing, that they soon might spiral out of control and neither one of them would be able to stop spinning. She was terrified to verbalize what she was thinking but said it anyway, knowing it would upset him. Caroline hated that her declining mood might ruin Christmas.
“I’m not sure I can believe you,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t expect you to,” he said. “I can believe enough for both of us.”
No music. No movement. No candle flickering in the windows. It was flurrying. Not snowing. Not enough to accumulate on the ground but enough to blur the view of the courtyard outside.
Something was missing. He wasn’t taking off her clothes or trying to seduce her. He made no move to tease her into doing something naughty. She wasn’t even sure the door was locked. He was holding onto her, his breath heavy with emotion, his arms ever so slowly growing tighter around her. He didn’t say a word, so she rested her forehead on his shoulder and didn’t speak until she felt his lips against her ear.
“I love you, Caroline Joan,” he said quietly. “I love you so fucking much.”
The dreaded middle name. He used it so rarely that sometimes she forgot what it was. He had so many nicknames for her but spoke her middle name when he was feeling particularly wistful. He’d maybe done it two or three times over the course of their marriage and only when he was on the verge of falling apart. She tried to stop the tears but they came anyway, dripping down until his cheek was as wet as hers.
Caroline bit her lip. “I love you too.”
Jack inhaled sharply, drawing back and wiping his face. Had he been crying too? He held out his hand, gesturing toward the door. “Let’s go upstairs.”
She reached for him and turned her head toward the empty ballroom. “What about-?”
“No,” he said. “Not tonight.”
Jack had his mental associations. His sexual tics and frustrations. If he wanted to go upstairs, something was off. Whatever he’d planned had been altered. Though she knew it couldn’t possibly be her fault, she was paranoid enough to think she was the reason for the change.
“Did I do something wrong?” she asked.
He squeezed her hand. “You’ve always done everything right. I’m just tired.”
He was lying but she wasn’t going to pursue it. The little lies were worth letting go. The big ones would be what would get them into trouble.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s go to bed.”
Chapter Twenty
The Safe House
Caroline woke up crying. Hell, that was practically her routine now. Try to block out the memories, let them bombard her in her sleep, then wake up in a rush of grief and anger. She had to control herself better. She went over to the window, peering through the curtains into the backyard. It was snowing again.
She peeked at her alarm clock. Past midnight. No longer Christmas Day. She hated thinking about those holidays with Jack. About those trips to the ballroom, those presents, those slow and sensuous dances that always ended with her naked in his arms. Their sexual interludes had gotten much more enjoyable once she convinced him to put a space heater in the corner. The room seemed to get colder as the years wore on. Or she had gotten more sensitive.
But that last Christmas had been different. Once Jack took her upstairs they barely spoke. She undressed, leaving the pearls on, and he silently kissed his way down her body, making her come again and again until he slid inside her. He took his time and they didn’t sleep at all, holding each other until the sun came up. In the morning she placed the pearls inside the box and never saw them again. They were gone along with the rest of her jewelry. All those things, vanished overnight.
Caroline glanced around the room. What did she have? A bed and blanket, a handful of clothes that didn’t fit right, a few gifts from the guys that, while quite thoughtful, didn’t amount to much? She�
�d gone from parties and fundraisers and jewelry boxes and ballrooms to a tiny corner bedroom, a couple of pairs of jeans, a few sweaters and shirts, and a pair of black boots. Oh, how the mighty had fallen. America’s Political Sweetheart had been humbled beyond recognition.
Riding high meant the fall was steeper. Being on top of the world meant that when you tumbled it would take eons before you hit rock bottom. And when you did, you realized there was no recapturing the glory and no point in remembering it either.
As dawn came and the sunrise poked through the clouds, she blocked out her memories of all those Christmases. All those kisses, all that love. Soon she’d be on her way to Chicago and none of that would matter anymore. Maybe, just maybe, she could find a way to get through the next few weeks and move on.
Chapter Twenty-One
Washington, D.C.
Union Station was more crowded than Caroline thought it would be. Gabe hadn’t been kidding when he said trains were the only way to go. They were almost prohibitively expensive since they were no longer subsidized by the government, but if someone really wanted to get somewhere they’d pay the price.
They had to leave their guns behind and didn’t even have a butter knife among them. It would be a huge risk to bring a weapon on the train. Any search or pat down could result in an arrest that would blow their plans out of the water. They knew how to fight and how to keep their heads down. Hopefully that would be enough.
Crowds were good. She could blend. Caroline had taken steps to ensure that she wouldn’t stand out. Women’s clothes that were fairly genderless, nothing too untidy or colorful. Nothing too memorable. A sweater and shirt, navy blue pea coat, her black boots, jeans that were a bit too loose. Topped off with a stocking cap and sunglasses made justifiable by the cold winter morning and the cloudless sky.
Her contacts hurt her eyes. She’d practiced wearing them off and on during the entire month of January. They didn’t do anything other than turn her brown eyes to a slightly dullish blue. Choppy blond hair, blue eyes, dressed like an androgynous sailor on shore leave…but totally unremarkable. Neither masculine nor feminine enough to attract attention.
The Bellator Saga: The First Trilogy (Dissident, Conscience, and Sojourn) Page 83