by Cecy Robson
“I love you.”
Her pause is dramatic, her brown eyes filling with shock as she takes me in. She didn’t expect me to say what I did. And before her, I never would have. But she’s my everything, even though no woman was supposed to be.
“I thought you didn’t believe in love.”
“There was a lot I didn’t believe in before you,” I admit.
I mean what I say. This whole time without her, it’s as if I’ve been missing a part of my soul. If that’s not love, I’ll be damned if I know what it is.
My knuckles skim over the curve of her waist. “I’ve spent a long miserable month without you, and I’m done,” I tell her. “I don’t want to pretend there’s nothing between us and I don’t want to go forward without you.”
She drops her chin. I’m not sure why until she lifts her face to meet mine. “You haven’t been with anyone else?”
“No.” I stroke her jaw with my thumb as a single tear escapes her eyes. I hate what I’ve done to her and need her to believe me. “You mean more to me than anything and anyone, even my fucking career.”
I adjust our positions so we’re kneeling in front of each other and take her hands in mine. Her hair is a mess, and her makeup is smeared, but I swear to Christ, I’ve never known anyone more beautiful.
“I know I fucked up,” I say, watching her hang on my every word. “And I know that I hurt you. I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.” My lips sweep over hers, my body and soul begging her to believe me. “But when I say, I love you, I mean it, and I only mean it for you.”
“I love you, too,” she says, her voice trembling. Her fingertips graze along my chest. “I just don’t know where we go from here.”
“From here we show the world,” I say.
I snag onto her waist when we hit a bump and she loses her balance, kissing her again, and again after that. She meets my mouth with equal passion, our hands raking over our bare skin.
She clasps my wrist when my hand slips between her legs. “We need to get dressed,” she stammers, her cheeks flushing a deep red.
“I’m not ready to,” I say, brushing the tips of my fingers along her inner thigh.
She whimpers, her lashes fluttering. “Later,” she says. “I promise.”
Her lips crash on mine. It takes a hell of a lot of effort for us to break apart but we finally do. I lead her back to the rear seat, picking up our discarded clothes along the way and laughing as we sort through the pieces.
I yank on my briefs and pants, my stare passing along her face and those curves that heated beneath my touch.
She notices, flashing me a teasing grin as she slips her hearing aids back on. “Will you zip me up?” she asks, giving me her back and gathering her dress around her.
“Only because you’re asking me,” I say, trailing kisses between her shoulder blades.
She moans. “You’re really making it hard to stay dressed.”
I finish pulling up the zipper. “Good. Remember that when we’re back at my apartment tonight.”
“Tonight?” she asks.
“Yes, tonight.” She sounds surprised I want her with me, not that I blame her. I’ve been a total ass, but now that I have my shit together, I’m going to prove what she means to me.
“I still have your things at my place.” I wrap my arms around her. “Say you’ll stay with me.”
“I’ll stay,” she says, so quietly, I barely catch it.
I start to pull her in for another kiss when I realize where we are. “Shit. We’re almost there.”
Panic spreads across her features as she adjusts her breasts beneath her dress. “Oh, no.” Her head jerks to the side. “Do you know where my panties are?”
“Nope. Haven’t seen them since I ripped them off with my teeth.”
“Declan!”
I scramble to the floor, searching for what I recall is a thong. I glance over my shoulder. “You sure you need underwear?”
“It’s the governor’s ball. I’m not walking in without panties.” She reaches into her purse, passing me some mints after popping a few in her mouth. “I think we both need these,” she says.
“Why’s that?”
“Declan,” she says, covering her face.
“Because you went down on me?”
“Don’t—”
“While I was going down on you?”
She slaps my ass. “You’re not helping,” she tells me.
I can’t help my grin or wink at the sight of her reddening cheeks. I find her lacy black thong beneath her wrap and pass it to her before rushing to pull the remainder of my clothes on. We only have a few minutes more before we reach the hotel and we’re still not fully clothed. It’s a serious situation, but both of us can’t stop smiling.
I’m adjusting my tie in the mirror as she wipes her smudged make-up away with a moist cloth from her purse. She fluffs her hair. “I don’t think I can fix this. Can you help me take the pins out?”
I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know what the hell I’m doing. Melissa will be the second. “Ouch!” she says when I pull the first one.
I give her a quick kiss. “Sorry, like this?”
“No, no―never mind,” she says. She throws her head back, laughing when I rip out another two hairs.
God, I’ve missed that smile.
She finishes pulling out the pins, combing through what remains of the curls with her fingers until they fall in a cascade around her shoulders. “Does this look all right?”
“When you say, ‘all right’, do you mean suggestive and wild, like we just had sex in the back of a limo?”
“Oh, God,” she says, adjusting the curls.
I hold out a hand. “If so, we nailed it.”
“Stop making me blush.”
Her last few words trail as I nuzzle her neck. “I can’t help myself,” I murmur. “You get me hot.”
“Baby,” she groans, pulling away.
She barely has time to apply her lipstick when the driver pulls along the curb. A crowd of photographers and reporters rush forward, lining up against the velvet ropes.
Melissa turns to me. “They’ve been expecting you,” she says.
The driver jogs around, scrambling to open the door. I step out amidst a light show of flashing cameras, reaching in to take Melissa’s hand. She gathers her wrap around her and together we glide onto the red carpet.
I’m ready to show the press who this woman is to me. But when I try to slide my arm around her waist, she slips away. “We’re on,” she says.
She winks as a separate crowd of reporters swarm her. I watch her leave, smiling when the first of the media reps barks out a question and certain I’ll never let her go.
CHAPTER 20
Melissa
It’s hard to play the role of the consummate professional following some of the hottest sex I’ve ever had. Good Lord, we were like horny teens on prom night. But that’s the effect this man has on me.
I wasn’t expecting what happened to happen. That didn’t mean I didn’t welcome it or want more. I’ve been a mess without Declan. And now here he is, mere feet from me, speaking with a few congressmen and the D.A.s from the neighboring counties.
He winks at me as I step up to the podium. I return his smile, but do my best not to let it linger. I have to focus and do my job, not flirt with the sexy D.A. I’ll spend all night with.
I take my place in front of the podium, signing as I speak. “Thanks to the generosity of Governor McAdams, we are establishing a Child Advocacy center specifically for victims of violent crimes where they can receive therapy and be interviewed in a more comfortable atmosphere.”
“What do you mean by comfortable?” the reporter in the front asks.
“The center will mimic a home,” I explain signing quickly. “No industrial furniture or anything that suggests an office will be incorporated in its function. I’ve met with a designer who shares our vision. She’s selected tranquil colors and comfortable furniture specifically de
signed to create a feeling of safety.”
“Sounds expensive,” another report says before I can finish.
“It is,” I agree, having prepared for those comments. “Thankfully, most of it will be funded by already existing grants, to ensure that victims of crime receive the support often denied because of costs.”
“Are you suggesting the state doesn’t shell out enough to help victims?” a reporter in the back asks.
“Not under Governor McAdams’s watch,” I answer, smiling. “She’s provided more assistance than any governor nationally to date.” I tilt my head as if giving it some thought. “However, I do think you might have shelled out too much for that tie, Larry.”
The crowd in front of me laughs, including Larry. Some of the press in attendance are notorious for bating speakers and bending them to their will. I learned very early in my career to establish a good relationship with reporters even when their intention isn’t always genuine. It’s helped me in the long run and allowed me ample opportunity to sing the praises of those who help me and bring attention to the needs victims of violence lack.
The governor steps forward, beaming like always. She knows I’ll always defend her and praise her work. It’s the least I can do for someone as kind and dedicated as she.
“Thank you, Melissa,” she says.
I step to her right, signing as she endorses Declan and trying to keep my emotions in check. As hard as it is to know he’s taking my father’s place, I know he’s earned the position and I’m so proud of him for stepping up.
“Acting District Attorney Declan O’Brien has not only met the challenges placed on him head on, he has surpassed expectations, ensuring the safety of the Philadelphia community and beyond.” I sign the last word to a round of enthusiastic applause. “In my political history, never have I seen an official accomplish as much as A.D.A. O’Brien has at such a young age. From acquiring record-breaking prison terms for dangerous felons, to winning cases most considered lost causes, to receiving international recognition for his obliteration of ruthless organized crime families decades old, A.D.A. O’Brien has demonstrated that he is the most qualified for the position of District Attorney.”
More applause, bringing more approving nods and smiles his way. I keep my excitement to a minimum although by now my heart is bursting with pride.
“Many may question his youth,” the governor continues. “But I assure you no one would question his degree of experience, high level of intelligence, or his dedication to the public sector. For these reasons and more, not only does he have my support as District Attorney, but I’m endorsing him for mayor at the end of his term.”
My motions become a jumbled mess. I sign quickly, trying to catch up and recover. Mayor? She’s backing him for mayor? The entire crowd of reporters whips his way, a fervor murmurs and applause spread along the crowd. Declan smiles in that regal way of his, meeting the governor’s gaze and nodding his thanks.
“Governor McAdams,” a reporter calls out. “Don’t you think it’s a bit premature to endorse someone as mayor this soon?’
“Not given A.D.A. O’Brien’s extraordinary record or his aptitude for trying cases most attorneys would run from. He’s not afraid to fight for those who are weak nor is he intimidated by anyone, and he’s most certainly not afraid to do the right thing.” She looks across the room, meeting his gaze once more. “The nation needs more leaders like Declan O’Brien.”
I wasn’t expecting this kind of endorsement. It shouldn’t upset me, I mean, we haven’t spoken much on a personal basis. But I’d hoped that he’d stay on as D.A. for two terms. Like my father had planned. The staff needs him.
And so do the victims.
“Melissa.” Kathleen, the governor’s chief P.R. rep motions to me. I didn’t realize I’d stopped signing and hurry to fix what I missed.
I smile as much as I can as I finish, my attention trailing to the governor as she steps down. “You were amazing as always, my dear,” she says, linking my arm within hers.
“Thank you.” I clear my throat, trying to sound relaxed. “I didn’t realize you’d planned to endorse A.D.A O’Brien for mayor.”
“I hadn’t,” she admits. “In fact, I didn’t realize he’d planned to run this early in his political career until we met last week.” She laughs. “I should have suspected, his drive to succeed being what it is.”
I barely catch her last few words. “You met last week?” I ask slowly.
“Yes, Tuesday, I believe. I apologize for not calling you, Melissa, but my schedule was booked solid.” She leans in close. “By the way, my best to your relationship. If you don’t mind my telling you, I sensed a certain chemistry between you when we met all those months ago.”
I try to play it off. “We’re not exactly a couple,” I say.
She turns around to face me, giving me an all-too knowing smile. “Aren’t you?”
Her smile widens as my face heats. “Don’t be embarrassed. It happens to the best of us.”
“It?” I ask.
“Surrendering your heart when you least expect it,” she explains.
I start to deny it. “Governor McAdams . . .”
The way she shakes her head cuts me off. “I’ll be stepping down as governor by the time the campaign for mayor begins. With the state of our country being what it is, I’ve debated who to endorse for months. Declan caught my attention during his last few trials, and he’s impressed me with his intelligence and refinement. But his age concerned me, regardless that the other candidates neither possess his remarkable record nor his leadership skills.” She glances toward where a slew of supporters have him surrounded. “That changed when I learned of your relationship and was reminded of the tremendous regard your father holds him in.”
“Ma’am?” I ask.
Her smile softens. “Melissa, you and your father are two of the best people I know. If you both believe in him, I’d be a fool not to believe in him, too.”
The bottom of my stomach crawls down to my toes. I want to push away the thoughts that warn me I’ve been used, as well as my father. But Declan told her we were together, ignoring the weeks we’ve spent apart.
“Melissa, are you all right?” she asks.
“I’m fine,” I manage, my body heating.
Declan told me I meant more than his career. Did he really mean I was good for it?
Kathleen hurries over. “Excuse me, Governor,” she says, appearing rushed. “Senator Monroe is requesting a word with you.”
“Of course.” The governor lifts my hand, squeezing it lightly. “Shall we meet up later, Melissa?” She taps my ring finger with her thumb. “Or will we have more to celebrate soon?”
Jesus. What exactly did Declan say to win her vote? I force a smile, nodding like an imbecile. “I’m sure we’ll catch up later,” I tell her quickly.
I watch her walk away, unsure where to go. I’m supposed to meet with a reporter about my experience and accomplishments during my time in the office, and with a senator who’s looking for input regarding the new legislation he’s bringing before congress. He’s seeking millions to help victims of domestic violence re-enter the work and is counting on me to support his campaign. I’m also supposed to meet up with Dad and Mae. But right now, all I can do is stand there.
The growing flutter surrounding Declan’s endorsement overpowers me, not only because of all the sound the excitement emits, but because of everything I don’t want to believe about it. As it is, I’ve been wrestling with Declan’s actions over these last few days. He went from telling me he doesn’t believe in love, to giving me that locket and kissing me in his office, following his meeting with Governor McAdams—a meeting he never bothered to mention!
We had sex on the drive here, and he told me loved me, but neither erase this past month apart, or give him the right to tell the governor we’re a couple.
Unless he really is using me . . .
“Champagne, miss?” a server offers.
“Yes, tha
nk you,” I stammer.
I scan the crowd. Declan is surrounded by a group of big wigs including the senator I’m supposed to meet with, a state supreme court justice, and Philadelphia’s current mayor. They gather around him, shaking his hand, patting his back, and likely offering their endorsements as well. Declan was always rumored to be the next big thing. Now, he is.
He winks in my direction when he catches my eye. I whip around, taking a sip of my champagne, my hands shaking. Please don’t tell me you’ve been using me. God, please don’t tell me you seduced me to become the next mayor.
My gaze falls upon my father where he and Mae sit along the raised dining area. He smiles as he interacts with a few representatives and their wives. The chemo left him outrageously thin, and his skin gray and loose against his frame. Despite the early hour, he already seems weary.
I glance back toward Declan. Please don’t tell me you used him, too.
This entire time we were apart, when I all but died without him, was it all a game to him? Did he manipulate me into leaving him, knowing I’d pine after him and rush back the moment he needed me again? I don’t want to think this way. I don’t. But right now, the pieces are falling into place and I hate where they land.
I don’t realize how badly I’m trembling until the champagne sloshes against the sides of the glass and spills against my dress. I hand my glass to a passing waiter and bat at the beads of liquid on my dress.
“Hey, Mel!”
Curran snakes his way through the crowd, Tess tucked against him. He bends to kiss my cheek. “Great speech.”
I smile, trying to compose myself. “Thank you.”
He frowns. “Are you all right?”
“Yes, just a little overwhelmed because of the noise.” I motion to them. “I apologize, I wasn’t expecting you. Valencia mentioned you’re close to your due date.”
“I am,” she says, appearing to tire. “And originally we weren’t planning to attend.”
“That’s because we weren’t invited,” Curran says, laughing. “Declan called all of us this morning, saying he got us in and that we had to be here, except he wouldn’t tell us why.”’