“The only crazy thing is this sweatshirt.” He hauled her into a sitting position just long enough to yank the bulky fabric over her head.
Her costume had shifted, courtesy of their frantic groping, the already low-cut V of her neckline now twisted so that it was barely containing her breasts, the lace of her black bra clearly visible.
Robert let out a quiet oath as he looked at her. The back of his knuckles brushed over the swells of her breasts, his gaze flicking to hers at the exact moment he let his fingertips slip beneath the lace.
Adeline let out a gasp as she arched up, but he continued to tease, his fingers nearly, but not quite, touching where she needed.
“Please.”
“Please what?” he asked with a wicked smile.
She bit her lip and remained stubbornly silent.
Slowly he tugged the lace of her bra aside, intentionally letting the fabric graze her nipple but denying her his fingers. “Please what?” he asked again, his voice husky as his finger moved in ever tightening circles around the center of her breast.
Her eyes closed. “Please touch me.”
“Please touch me . . . who?” His head lowered until his face was inches from the tip of her breast, his breath hot and torturous against her skin. “Say my name, Adeline.”
Stubbornness mingled with need. “Mayor Davenport.”
He let out a surprised laugh. “Good enough. For now.”
Adeline cried out as his tongue lashed over her, her hands pulling his head toward her as his lips wrapped around her nipple.
He seemed to be inside her head, knowing when to tease, when to love, when to nip oh-so-lightly with his teeth. His fingers tugged aside the bra at her other breast, and he repeated the process all over again, until she was wiggling beneath him, gasping with need.
Desperately, she reached for Adeline’s sanity beneath Addie’s need, letting herself register what she must look like, a ridiculous nurse costume hiked up around her waist, the fully clothed mayor of New York City bent over her, making her crazy with want. “Wait,” she said, her fingers tugging in his hair, lifting his head. “We can’t do this.”
He froze immediately, though the tension in his body told her the effort wasn’t easy. “No?”
His eyes were both hungry and patient, letting her know what he wanted, while simultaneously promising that she was in control of the situation. It was the promise that scared her the most, because it confirmed what she’d suspected from the very beginning: that if she wasn’t careful, she could fall stupidly, completely for a man who could never be hers, not when he learned who she really was.
Robert might want the woman in the tiny nurse costume, but eventually, he’d need the woman in the blazer—one who wore blazers for real, not as a disguise. And she cared about him enough to want that for him.
Adeline set a hand to his cheek, her palm savoring the soft scrape of his stubble. “I can’t sleep with a client,” she whispered. It wasn’t the whole truth, but it was a truth. She was proud of what she’d accomplished with Jet Set, and this was not how CEOs conducted business.
His eyes slammed shut and his head dropped forward just for a second, letting out a slow, deliberate exhale. When his head lifted again, his eyes were more controlled. “I hate how much I understand and respect that.”
Adeline felt simultaneous relief and panic—relief that he understood and panic as her heart registered men like him were as rare as they were wonderful.
He slowly climbed off her, retrieving her sweatshirt and handing it back to her with a playful smile of regret. “I will never look at a nurse in the same way again.”
Adeline let out an embarrassed laugh as she pulled the sweatshirt back over her head and tugged down the hem of her twisted skirt, grateful to have something to do to prevent her from having to meet his eyes.
He cleared his throat as she continued to fidget with her clothes longer than necessary. “Adeline, about Rosalie . . .”
Her stomach knotted. “I don’t want to talk about her. Not until I’ve had a chance to talk to her.”
“You’re going to tell her? About this?”
The knot in her stomach pulled tighter. “I’m not going to be the other woman.”
“The—What?” His eyes flashed in anger. “Is that seriously what you think of me? That I’d date one woman publicly, and keep the other as a secret? I already told you I wasn’t going to see her again.”
“I know,” she said tiredly. “It’s just . . . you’re a . . .”
“What?” he asked, when she broke off. “I’m a what?”
She blew out a breath. “Politicians aren’t exactly known for their exemplary personal lives. Mistresses have been fairly de rigueur throughout history.”
“Jesus.” He dragged his hands over his face. “This was a fucking mistake.”
She flinched. “Mr. Mayor . . .”
“See, that’s the problem,” he snapped. “You’ve got it in your head that all politicians are shit, and that’s all you see me as, isn’t it? An elected official, a figurehead.”
No, actually the problem is that I keep forgetting it.
“You are an elected official,” she said, needing to say it out loud to remind herself. “You’re the mayor. A governor hopeful. A for-life politician, who’ll never not be in the spotlight.”
He sucked in a breath, then released it slowly. “I see. And I’m not worth the burdens that come with that?”
Adeline’s chest ached at the look on his face, and she tried to explain. “We’re so different.”
He reached out and plunged his hands through her hair, tilting her face up to his, his eyes burning into hers. “That’s just the thing, Adeline. I don’t think we’re all that different. I’m not a machine, and I’m not a puppet. I’m a man. I breathe, I think, and damn it, I feel.”
Her heart seemed to stop beating in her chest, her thoughts, emotions, and memories all jumbled up into one unsolvable ball of confusion.
“I’m a man,” he repeated, his thumb dragging over her lip, before he took a step back and released her. “Figure out what you want to do about that.”
He walked out of her apartment without another word.
Chapter Sixteen
Sunday, November 1
The next morning, Adeline’s under-eye concealer had some serious heavy lifting to do. She’d tossed and turned after the mayor had left her apartment, and she’d dozed off sometime around dawn, just in time for her alarm to go off to start what promised to be a difficult day.
Rosalie had always had a weakness for doughnuts, so Adeline was first in line when one of the city’s most famous doughnut shops opened at six. Unsure whether her friend’s tastes had evolved since high school, Adeline got plenty of Rosalie’s old standby maple bars, along with an assortment of more exotic specialty flavors, including a mint chocolate one that she was hoping she might get to sample if Rosalie didn’t throw her out first thing.
Armed with a dozen doughnuts, Adeline stopped into Starbucks near the Airbnb where Rosalie was staying. Her friend was between two leases and had opted for a temporary residence rather than settling for someplace she didn’t love.
Expecting the usual Sunday rush, Adeline had placed a mobile order for two pumpkin spice lattes, an extra shot of espresso in her own. Somehow, she managed to get both cups and the box of doughnuts to Rosalie’s front door without any spills. Not bad for someone who was painfully short on sleep.
She knew her friend would be awake because Rosalie had invited Adeline to a seven o’clock yoga class this morning. It gave them only a couple of minutes to talk before Rosalie would have to leave, but a couple of minutes was all it would take for Adeline to say what she needed to.
A man and his pug opened the front door to Rosalie’s walk-up just as Adeline was trying to figure out how to ring the call button without spilling the coffee. She slipped inside and used the toe of her tennis shoe to gently knock on Rosalie’s first floor door.
Her friend ope
ned immediately, already dressed for yoga in sleek black pants, a hot pink workout top, her long black hair in a high ponytail.
“Hey! Come on in,” Rosalie said with a warm smile. “You change your mind about yoga?”
“Definitely not,” Adeline said, stepping inside. “I just brought preworkout nourishment.”
“Ah, yes, I’m sure this is exactly what all personal trainers would advocate,” Rosalie said, opening the box of doughnuts Adeline set on the kitchen table. “Is that a marshmallow?”
“S’mores doughnut,” Adeline explained, handing her friend a coffee.
“Not that I don’t always welcome a sugar rush, but what’s the occasion?” Rosalie asked, debating all the options before reaching for a maple bar.
Never one to beat around the bush, Adeline took a deep breath. “I have something to tell you.”
“Shoot,” Rosalie said, licking maple off her thumb.
Adeline looked her friend dead in the eye. “I kissed the mayor.”
The brief pause in her chewing was the only sign that Rosalie had even heard her. She took another big bite of the doughnut, washing it down with a sip of the latte.
“Hello?” Adeline said, a little impatient to receive judgment so she could begin atoning.
“Was it hot?” Rosalie asked, waggling her eyebrows.
“What? I kissed your boyfriend, and that’s your reaction?”
Her friend snorted and dropped into one of the kitchen chairs. “He’s not my boyfriend. Not even close.”
Adeline slowly sat in the other chair. “You’ve been on three dates.”
“I’ve shared three meals with the man, with his bodyguards a few feet away, and about a hundred pairs of eyes on us. Those aren’t dates.”
“But you’ve been out with him three times in one week.”
“Sure. I guess technically it’s been three outings. I think we both kept agreeing to meet up again, hoping it would build some momentum and turn into something, but . . . nope. No spark. He thinks so, too, otherwise he wouldn’t have kissed you. He doesn’t strike me as the player type.”
“But—” Adeline blinked, trying to sort out her thoughts. “You’re supposed to be mad.”
Rosalie smiled. “Well, I am a little mad that you set me up on a date with the guy you liked.”
“I don’t like him,” Adeline said automatically.
“So, what, your lips accidentally fell on his? Or was it the other way around?”
Adeline grunted and took a sip of her coffee.
“So it was hot,” Rosalie said smugly. “I knew it.”
“It was a onetime mistake,” Adeline said.
“But obviously there’s chemistry . . .”
“Chemistry doesn’t matter,” Adeline said a touch sharply. “He doesn’t know me. He has no idea that I’m really Addie Brennan, that he’s about to run against my father, that he literally couldn’t pick someone more unsuitable to be his arm candy.”
“You could tell him.”
Adeline scoffed. “Why would I do that?”
“Because protest all you want, but you do like him,” Rosalie said softly. “The fact that you’ve avoided my texts all week after setting me up with him made me wonder. The fact that you’ve brought me grovel doughnuts after making out with him sort of proves it. And he likes you. His mind seemed a million miles away when I was with him, and I’d bet anything it was on you.”
“He likes Adeline. He doesn’t know—”
“You are Adeline!” Rosalie interrupted, leaning forward with impatience. “I know it’s usually Jane who plays the tough love role, but I’m going to try my hand at it. This whole multiple personalities thing you’ve developed? It exists only in your head, and it’s getting old. I can respect that you wanted to reinvent yourself. I even understand the name change in a world of social media bullshit where silly mistakes never quite go away. But you’re not two people, so you don’t get to pick and choose when you get to use Addie’s demons as an excuse when Adeline feels vulnerable, nor do you get to use Adeline’s career as a justification for ignoring who you really are.”
Adeline pursed her lips. “Wow. That was . . . a lot.”
Rosalie pushed the box toward her. “Doughnut?”
Adeline picked up the mint chocolate one and contemplated her friend’s blunt assessment as she chewed. It wasn’t exactly fun to have her issues so plainly spelled out before she’d finished her coffee, but she appreciated it all the same. Both that Rosalie cared enough to speak up and the clarity it provided.
Yes, she’d been hiding. Yes, she’d been using her past as an excuse when it suited her, and then just as easily using her present as a defense mechanism, all so that she could avoid that awful, burning feeling of not being good enough. And yes, she still had some work to do to figure out how to love herself because of her past, not in spite of it. And she would get there.
But.
It would never change the fact that there was one world where Addie Brennan’s “sins” would never be forgiven, and that was Robert’s world.
Her father may have been cruel when he’d pointed out that girls with topless photos on the web didn’t belong in the governor’s mansion, but he’d also been right. Her father knew it, Adeline herself knew it, and Robert knew it, even if he didn’t know that Adeline was one such woman.
“You’re not wrong about any of it,” Adeline said, polishing off the doughnut as Rosalie picked up a second one, opting for a fancy lemon meringue option. “I need to learn to love myself, both the Addie and Adeline sides.”
“I know,” her friend said with a wide smile.
“But,” Adeline added, “that doesn’t change the fact that no amount of growth on my end, no amount of embracing my Addie side, will ever allow Robert Davenport to date Addie Brennan without serious consequences to his career.”
“But—”
“No,” Adeline said gently. “You know I’m right on that. This is the real world. The only reason my antics didn’t ultimately cost my father his seat was because he was able to wash his hands of me, just as he did my mom. People can relate to and forgive a father cursed with a miscreant daughter. They won’t relate to or forgive a man who chooses that kind of woman as his girlfriend.”
Rosalie put her doughnut aside untouched. “This sucks.”
“It does,” Adeline said pragmatically. “And you’re right, I do like him. Way more than I should. But it’s because I do that I’d never ask him to choose between me—the real me—and his job.”
Rosalie’s eyes were sad. “You know, I’ve always been a little cynical about politicians. Not as much as you, but I always thought they did it for the power and ego trip more than anything else. But even I can see how much he lights up when he talks about his work.”
Adeline nodded, relieved that her friend understood. Then she took a deep breath and brought up the other reason she’d come over with bribery doughnuts. “I have a favor to ask.”
“Oh no.”
“A little one,” Adeline reassured her. “Well, actually, not so little. It’s just . . . would you go on one more date with him? On Tuesday?”
Rosalie frowned. “Why Tuesday?”
“It’s Election Night. They’ll be voting in a new mayor.”
“Election—No! Do you have any idea how many cameras will be on him? On me? On us?”
“Yes. And it’s why I can’t be there,” Adeline said gently.
Rosalie was still shaking her head. “You just confessed that you like him. I’m not going to date the guy my friend’s got a thing for.”
“It doesn’t have to be a real date,” Adeline said softly. “He’d never admit it, but I think Tuesday’s going to be hard for him. Being mayor wasn’t just his job, it was his entire identity. That’ll be essentially ending on Tuesday night, and I don’t . . .” She took a breath. “I don’t want him to be alone.”
Rosalie stared at her a long moment. “Sweetie,” she said gently. “You don’t just like the mayor, do
you? It’s deeper than that.”
Adeline didn’t answer. Not to her friend, and definitely not to herself. Instead she gave Rosalie a beseeching look. “Please? Promise you’ll be there for him?”
Her friend sighed as she picked up the doughnut once more. “Fine. But in exchange, I want you to tell me all about the kiss. If I’m not going to be hooking up with the Man of the Year, I want to hear every dirty detail from the woman who is.”
Chapter Seventeen
Tuesday, November 3
There was a new mayor of New York City.
Ned Olivo—the man Robert privately believed was the better person for the job—had established a sizable early lead over Glenn Covey early in the day. The gap had only widened as the remainder of the votes came in, and Robert and Rosalie had been on their way to Olivo’s campaign headquarters to offer their congratulations even before Covey had called to officially concede the race just before midnight.
Robert had been mentally preparing for this night for weeks now, and he’d thought he was ready. But shaking the hand of the mayor-elect and keeping a smile on his face had been a good deal harder than he’d expected.
Not that he wasn’t happy for Olivo—he, better than anyone, knew the triumph of that moment. He wanted Olivo to have it, too.
And yet . . .
Robert idly rubbed a hand over his chest.
He felt raw. Empty. Alone.
Yes, he’d spent the past several hours in the company of people. Yes, Kenny had never left his side. And Rosalie, despite having surprised him by showing up in the first place, had been a lifesaver, absorbing a fair amount of pressure from the media and seemingly knowing exactly how to strike the right balance between saying the right thing and never taking the focus away from Ned and his wife, Pam.
The front-page news tomorrow would be about the new mayor, but Robert was reasonably certain that the more gossipy channels would have another lead story: the mayor’s new girlfriend. Rumors about him and Rosalie had been swirling all week, and he knew her presence on Election Night would only clinch the assumption that they were official.
He didn’t care. The media could report them married for all he cared, and he’d let it roll off his back because it wasn’t true. He knew it, and just as importantly, Rosalie knew it. She’d quickly assuaged any concerns he had that she’d gotten the wrong idea by telling him at the start of the evening that she was there as a friend only.
Yours in Scandal Page 14