“Paige, I don’t care how it looks. My dad is behind that lunch, I’m sure. Cancel it.”
His dad. An ever-looming figure with a reputation that impressed most people. His father, Walter Taylor, had been one of Virginia’s most popular Governors. While in office, he’d managed to invest his money well. There had been some investigation about the initial amount of money he’d invested-- rumors of bribery had been thrown around-- but in the end he’d been cleared. His brother, Roger’s uncle, had shown the bank statements and records necessary to get the allegations dropped.
Of course, Roger’s uncle did for his father what Dallas did for Roger: protect from trouble and fix problems. So if the money had been dirty, who knows what the uncle had done to make the issue disappear?
Those were the kinds of questions that Paige used to jump on as a journalist. Instead, she worked for Roger, who had profited not only from his family’s long political history but also from the money. His father, now a billionaire, had funded most of Roger’s first campaign for the Senate. That money had taken Roger straight out of city municipality and into the nation’s capitol.
Roger made a concerted effort to avoid his father’s influence now that he was out from under his father’s thumb. Of course, Paige realized the touch of irony that his father did still exert an enormous amount of influence on Roger. He was in every decision Roger made, every avoidance of playing the political game he’d been trained to win, every time Roger aimed to do the opposite of what he thought his father would want.
There was also just Roger himself. The man wouldn’t budge if he’d made up his mind. While open to bipartisan action in the Senate, he’d earned a bit of a reputation. They called him alpha. It was both a compliment and a curse, depending on who said it. Paige knew what the other men felt. When Roger walked into a room, he owned the room. Not with speaking, or with bullying, but just because every inch of him was man and he demanded attention. It made Paige wet in her panties while it made other men piss their pants.
She hesitated about canceling the lunch date. This wasn’t about the pipeline. Everyone knew Roger’s stance because he was so vocal about it. She found a pencil and began to chew it, thinking. The pounding of Roger’s feet filled the silence as her mind turned. Sometimes, because he was so stubborn, she wanted to break his rules just to test him. She wondered what he’d do. If, in his rage, he’d let go of a tiny bit of that control. The thought made her mouth dry.
Her personal email pinged. Karen had sent the list. Excitement began to bubble in Paige and as eager as she was to look at it, she knew she needed to play it cool.
The rest of Roger’s day was filled with things he’d need her on. Committee meetings (she took notes for him), an hour to greet constituents who were visiting DC (she’d help arrange photos and commemorative memorabilia), research for countering upcoming Bill Addendums and adding in his own…
And of course he’d want to see her for a late dinner. He’d invite Dallas and Mariel over and then after he and Dallas would disappear into the library, plotting and discussing while Mariel went over her speeches with Paige, looking for some pointers and insight. No time for her investigation. Sometimes she wondered if that was on purpose.
It didn’t matter. What mattered is she needed that lunch hour free for her.
She didn’t cancel his lunch meeting, her cheeks burning and her stomach churning in guilt.
~ ~ ~ ~
The best part of being Roger’s aide was having her own office that came with a door. It was currently shut. That was because her desk was strewn with papers she didn’t want anyone to see. It was the invite lists compared to the attendees and donors lists. She went through with highlighters, first crossing off close ties and major campaign contributors. Next she went through and marked off celebrities and the DC elite, who usually made an appearance for their own exposure and gains. Finally, she went through and marked off staffers, journalists, and others non-essential to her quest. There was a moment of hesitation when she found Ellen’s name. Paige didn’t feel guilty, not truly, about Ellen’s suicide. After all, Paige had only used the stolen phone to save Roger. Still, as she crossed off the name she had to suppress the memory of the horrid red violently splattered across Roger’s kitchen wall.
Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that was why she was going through all of this trouble. Why it would be worth Roger’s irritation after his lunch. Because someone out there was responsible for Ellen’s death. They had threatened the man she loved.
She was left with sixty three names. Sixty three guests out of well over three hundred who weren’t closely tied to Roger’s campaign. She picked up a pencil and lightly crossed out all of the names that didn’t have an “S” at the beginning of their first name or surname.
Paige was left with six names. One of them jumped out at her. Simon Stills.
A lobbyist, but not a name she was familiar with and attached to no specific group. Interesting.
What was a lobbyist doing at their fundraiser? Roger had made it abundantly clear both in his campaigns and in his time at the office that he wasn’t interested in lobbyists. His fortune meant they didn’t have much to persuade him, either. Further, she didn’t know Simon’s name, and it was Paige’s job to know people. He didn’t come with a date, he had bought his way into the dinner and fundraiser alone. No corporation or group attached to his name. The only thing attached to his name was an address.
Paige looked at her watch; she had half an hour before Roger returned. If she took a cab, she could at least see what was at the address.
Grabbing her purse and stashing her research, Paige ran out the door.
~ ~ ~ ~
It was an apartment building. Not a business, like she’d expected. Paige waited in the cab, nervous.
“This the right address?” The cabbie looked pointedly at the meter.
She fumbled with her purse, pulling out her wallet. “Yeah, this is the right one. Do you mind hanging around here for a second while I run and check something?”
“I gotta keep the meter running if I do.”
She pressed some bills into his hand and let him see that she had more where those came from. He nodded.
Paige got out of the car. The building was old, but nice. She went up the steps and looked at the occupant names listed beside the buzzer. The list of tenants did not include Simon Stills. Had he used a fake address?
As she looked, an elderly lady came up the stairs behind her. “Looking for someone?” There was wariness in her voice that caught Paige’s attention.
“Yes, but I don’t see his name here. Simon Stills?”
The lady shook her head. “I don’t know that name, but what does he look like?”
Paige thought quickly, trying to recall Mariel’s description from so long ago. “Um, tall? Dark hair and broad shoulders?”
The older woman’s face screwed into a sneer. “Oh. Him. He’s here with Anastasia once a week.” Anastasia Bennet was on the buzzer tenant list.
“Is she home?”
“If she is, she’s sleeping. She’s one of those working girls. You know what I mean. She usually works the Hilton.”
The Hilton… where they’d had the fundraiser. This was getting more confusing than before. A lobbyist had bought a plate at their fundraiser using the address of an escort who looked for johns at the same hotel the fundraiser had been held. What in the hell was going on?
“Well, I guess I’ll have to look for him somewhere else, then. Thanks for your help.” Paige moved aside so the woman could get into the building. She was tempted to buzz Anastasia to see if she was home, but glancing at her watch she knew there wasn’t any time; she’d need to leave right then to make it back to the office before Roger or Dallas suspected something.
She jumped in the cab, her mind buzzing with this new information. It looked like her best bet was searching for Anastasia at the Hilton, which meant ducking Roger. After today’s lunch performance, she wasn’t sure how easy th
at would be.
Chapter Three
He was seething. Not just a little mad, or frustrated, or irritated or any of the things a normal boss would be over something like not canceling a lunch. Irate.
Paige knew Roger was seething because as soon as she entered her office, he was there, looking at her computer. Some part of her flared, feeling violated that he was in her space, on her computer. Guilt stained her cheeks red; of course she’d be upset, she had something to hide.
“Where were you?” His voice was calm, which was worse. Roger didn’t mind getting passionate or vocal when he was upset. Calm? All bets were off.
She moved toward her seat and hung her purse on the corner of her chair. She came near him, expecting him to make room for her to sit. He didn’t. Instead, he leaned toward her, taking up her space, his nearness flooding her senses. Her stomach tightened pleasantly and she wondered, not for the first time, about the aspects of Roger he kept hidden from her. “I-I was out to lunch,” she stammered.
“As was I, Paige. A lunch I told you to cancel.”
“Didn’t I?” Her voice was too tight, she knew, and too high-pitched. It sounded fake to her, but Roger didn’t react.
“You don’t make mistakes, Paige. Not in this office and not when you work for me.” His voice was lower, a growl, and she knew she should be terrified but damned if she wasn’t turned on. Everyone assumed Dallas was the only Taylor who used intimidation. The waves of dominance that were rolling off of Roger now, though, made her weak.
She trembled. He would think it was from fear, but her body was on overload, pheromones or endorphins or whatever racing through her and all Paige could think of was having sex on the desk. Right there, in the middle of the office. Fantasies of her skirt hiked up around her waist, the tops of her thigh-high stockings exposed as Roger railed her from behind flooded her mind and she felt a small gush in her panties. Why couldn’t she tell him these desires?
Because somewhere, the threat of Roger just taking what he wanted lurked. She didn’t want to spoil the surprise.
“I’m sorry, Roger.”
“Clear my schedule for tonight after seven. We need to have a talk.”
He stalked away from her then, leaving her in a gasping, shivering heap. She immediately did as he said, despite knowing it would keep her from finding Anastasia that night. Paige was in deep shit with Roger… so why was she looking forward to it?
~ ~ ~ ~
She’d expected him to ask her to make reservations for them, or to call their cook, Marta, and let her know what he wanted for dinner.
But Roger didn’t speak with her for the rest of the day. He borrowed an intern, some new kid named Billy, to bring her papers or ask for notes. He’d sent her home early, saying he “didn’t need anything until tonight.”
Roger was avoiding her. Paige didn’t have time to worry about it. She spent her time googling Anastasia. Of course, not much came up. Just the name on the apartment, and a website that hinted at what she already knew: Anastasia was an escort. The kind of high-end escort that the upper echelon of DC hired but never wanted anyone to know about. The woman probably made more money than Paige, easy.
Paige laughed at a bit of the irony. She was also sleeping with a Senator, something she’d once sworn not to do. Roger wasn’t hiding their relationship, but he hadn’t been very public about it either. They weren’t married, and while dating in the public eye was fine, she doubted his polling would look great if it showed he was sleeping with his aide on a regular basis, particularly so soon after the tragic suicide of his former aide.
She did find one useful thing during her search: a photo. It would make spotting Anastasia in a bar much easier, if she could ever get away from Roger.
Her phone alarm beeped. It was 6:15, time to start getting ready. Because he hadn’t had her make their reservations, she didn’t know how to dress for dinner. If she was just going to his mansion in the suburbs, she’d wear jeans. If they were eating out, though, she’d need something more formal. Choosing safe over sorry, she picked a little black dress. It was silk, clung to her curves, and could be dressed up or down with accessories. Feeling a little funky, she opted for a black velvet choker, enjoying the contrast of the two fabrics. Paige left her straight hair down and applied smoky makeup to her eyes.
A little bit Addams Family when she was done, but sexy as hell. Roger couldn’t stay mad at her for long if she looked this good.
She still had a few minutes to spare. Paige put her heels by the door and then padded around her apartment. It was big for D.C. and definitely too nice for her pay grade. Roger wasn’t the only person who came from money. Her family was far from billionaire-status, but her father was a successful Government lawyer. He’d put in over fifty years of devoted time at his firm, and it had paid off. Of course, Paige couldn’t remember a family trip with him, or a stand-out loving memory. He’d been too busy.
She hadn’t understood as a child, but she got it now. Men like her father worked to provide because that was the way they knew how to show love. Her father’s love had been more apparent when her mother, a DC socialite, had pressured Paige to go into a different major.
“Journalism? Sweetheart, just pick something like history. You’ll meet all the future lawyers there, or maybe even a future politician! You need to be thinking about husbands, not internships at papers.”
Debutante balls, etiquette classes, and blind dates had been her mother’s contribution to her future, trying to get Paige to find a comfortable life like she had. It hadn’t been wrong, just not what Paige had wanted. Her father understood.
He’d paid for her double major in Journalism and Political Science. He’d saved every article she’d ever written. And he’d bought this townhouse for her as a graduation gift, a way for her to stay safe and comfortable while pursuing her dreams in a cutthroat town. So no, he’d not been there for her growing up, but she knew he loved her.
A knock at the door. She glanced in the mirror one more time and, pleased with that she saw, slipped on her shoes. Biting her lip, she opened the door, trying to prepare herself for Roger’s ire.
He took her breath away. He was in a tailored suit with a single breast. The cloth and tailoring made it look expensive, the single breast daring and youthful. She admired the slimmer cut of his pants, but not too slim-- just enough to show off his powerful runner’s thighs.
Sighing, she reached out to touch his tie, which was a little crooked. “You look great, Roger,” she murmured as she adjusted it. Her palm then slid down and rested on his chest. She looked at him, imploring-- where did she stand with him?
“Let’s go,” was all he said, offering his arm. It stung. She was still being punished. They went to his limo, the driver already waiting with the door open. She climbed in and made room for him beside her, but he sat across, his legs drawn in and stiff so they wouldn’t be touching.
“Roger?”
“I’m assuming Fiola is a suitable choice for dinner.”
Fiola. It was more than suitable, it was one of her favorite restaurants in the city and he knew it. The bistro boasted great cocktails and superb cuisine. Her teeth gnawed at her inner lip and Paige wished she had brought gum or something to chew on. It was tacky, yes, but this was Roger and she really needed something to help control her anxiety. He was clearly upset with her, but also taking her out to her favorite place to eat. His face was his politician’s one; smooth and unreadable.
“It is, thank you.” Her hands ended up playing with the hem of her dress, fingers rubbing the fine silk and tugging it down, trying to cover her exposed thighs. Paige caught his eyes following her hands, devouring every inch she alternately exposed and covered. When she tried to smile suggestively, though, he glared, his nostrils flaring.
It was just one lunch she hadn’t canceled. Why was this suddenly feeling like so much more?
They arrived. The restaurant was located on Pennsylvania Avenue, which was part of why she loved it. This area of DC w
as her favorite. The world’s history happened here, changing daily in that big White House, in the Senate, in the House… this was where everything happened, and she was about to dine in its heart.
Roger’s hand was nestled on the small of her back as they went inside, his thumb stroking a small circle on her spine. A shiver went through her, and she longed to know what he was thinking.
Inside the restaurant she stopped short. There were no other patrons. It was 7:30 PM on a weeknight, the place should be slammed. Instead, the tables sat, empty, immaculately set for diners who weren’t there.
Roger’s hand nudged her forward a bit. “What’s going on? Where is everyone?”
“I thought we could use a quiet dinner.”
She pulled away so she could face him. “A quiet dinner? So you had the place shut down for us?” Her voice was escalating a bit, but she felt out of her element. This wasn’t the Roger she knew.
“I merely made a reservation. For every table, all night.”
The amount of money that would take was obscene. This was so out of character for him. He wasn’t someone to flaunt his wealth. He didn’t hide from it, either, with his mansion and a penthouse apartment in the city, the limousines and using his family’s private jet when he needed to travel, but he didn’t use his money in a way that interfered with other people’s lives. Like this. Like buying out a place to take a date.
“What the hell is going on, Roger?” She was pissed. He had a right to be mad at her for the lunch, but she had a right to be mad at him, too. He was the one keeping her in the dark, forcing her to move behind the scenes as she searched for “S.” He was the one who was putting the distance between them.
The Corrupt Trilogy Page 13