“You love those sports bras,” I say, walking her into the dining room. “We can’t keep that racerback in stock, and I think you buy half of them.”
She punches my arm harmlessly, painlessly. “You were supposed to bring me the new one, you big oaf.”
“I’ll have some shipped.” I chuckle and glance at the formally dressed dining room table. “Wow. You really broke out the heavy artillery for this one.”
“It’s important we start with a show of strength,” Mill says, her sweet mouth firming. “They’re all riding the Cade train to the White House. They should see what it means to be one of us.”
Funny. I couldn’t run from my name fast enough, and Mill couldn’t wait to marry into it. She’s completely a Cade. The perfect political wife. Anything about herself and her life before Owen that didn’t fit, she cast off without a second thought.
Owen and Mill don’t have an arranged marriage. I believe they love each other, but it’s a power match without a doubt. Her father, a former governor, has been grooming his pretty daughter for the White House for as long as our father has been grooming Owen. It doesn’t hurt that she’s probably smart enough to run the country herself in a pinch.
“So back to this woman, Lennix,” Millicent says. “Maybe having her around will calm you down some.”
If there is one thing that I’m not around Lennix, it’s calm. At least I wasn’t before. Who knows now? We haven’t been in the same room in ten years, and the last time we were together, I fucked her on a table.
“That’s doubtful,” I reply.
“What’s doubtful?” Owen asks from the dining room door.
“That Max’s new girlfriend will calm him down.”
“Girlfriend?” Owen frowns. “Who?”
“She’s talking about Lennix,” I say, tugging a strand loose from the disciplined pleat of Millicent’s hair.
“Maxim!” She shrieks and jogs over to the framed mirror taking up half a wall. “Now I have to fix it.”
“You know we talked about this, Max,” Owen says, his “big brother” face in full effect. He practically wags his finger at me. “You know Lennix’s conditions.”
“Conditions?” Millicent asks, turning from the mirror. “Which ones? What are they?”
Owen doesn’t want to know where he and Lennix can shove their conditions. It’s very dark there.
“She doesn’t want to work directly with Maxim because of their torrid past,” he says, pulling her into his side. “You look beautiful, Mill.”
“Why thank you, O.” She beams up at him, all silky blond hair and limpid blue eyes. They’re basically POTUS Ken and Barbie. “But tell me more about these conditions and their torrid affair. I had no idea.”
“It wasn’t torrid. How many are we expecting?” I ask, deliberately sidestepping the irksome subject of Lennix’s conditions and our past.
“Well, it’s just the nucleus team,” Millicent answers, winking at me and mouthing ‘we’ll talk later.’ “And we wanted it to feel personal, so we said they could invite a significant other.”
“That’s nice,” I say, only half listening and a quarter interested while I check stock numbers on my watch.
“Most of them aren’t bringing anyone,” Owen says, hesitating for a moment before continuing. “But Lennix is.”
My head jerks up and I stare at my brother for an elongated moment while I make a conscious effort not to bare my teeth at him. I finally ask the question pounding at my temples. “Who?”
39
Lennix
“Are you sure about this?” Wallace asks, the question in his voice reflected in his expression.
“I told you a dozen times that tie is fine,” I say, reaching up to adjust the knot. “But good Lord, when I gave it to you I never thought you’d mangle it. Where’d you learn to tie these? The Boy Scouts? This tie is Armani and you made it look like I picked it up at the five-and-dime.”
“Not the damn tie, Lenny.” Wallace grabs my hand and pulls it away from his neck. “Me coming with you to this campaign thing.”
“Of course.” I slide my glance to the perfectly manicured bushes flanking the front porch of Owen Cade’s townhouse. “They said we could bring someone.”
“Someone? Like a random friend?”
“Random?” I overstretch my eyes and mouth with outrage. “You’re not random. You are the most on-purpose friend I have. Joe’s bringing Erin.”
“They’re married.”
“Howard’s bringing Bill.”
“They’re married.” He points to himself. “I’m not your husband.”
“Not for lack of trying on your part.” I grin up at him. “Come on, Wall. I neeeeeed you.”
“I’m your beard, aren’t I?” he asks, suspicion and realization lighting his eyes. “You’re betting Maxim Cade will leave you alone if he thinks you’re taken.”
“Exactly.” My smile comes and goes, then I shake my head. “No! I mean, no. Not at all.”
He dips his head and looks at me knowingly.
“Okay. Maybe a little.” I put my hands over my ears. “Stop looking at me so loud.”
“If you expect Maxim to believe you’re an old married couple,” Kimba says from the bottom of the steps, “your bickering will convince him.”
“Would you shut up?” I hiss, looking at the bushes like they might be bugged.
“Also that startling lack of sexual chemistry you two got going on?” Kimba points between us. “Reeks of trudging through matrimony.”
“Can we please just put on our big girl panties and show Senator Cade why we’re the best in the business?” I ask.
“I’m already wearing my big girl panties, honey,” Kimba says, practically gliding up the steps. “They’re La Perla.”
“I’m not comfortable at all with this turn of conversation,” Wallace mumbles. “I’ve been telling myself, ‘Wall, you need male friends.’ Too many girls.”
“Shut it. You love us.” Kimba reaches up to hug Wallace around the neck. “How the heck are ya, Wall? Welcome to paradise. Good to have you in D.C. Congrats on the promotion.”
“Thanks,” Wallace says, returning her hug.
“Now if we could persuade your sister to accept a promising opportunity every once in a while,” I interject. “Who leaves the LA Times on the table?”
“That was a decade ago, Lenn,” Kimba says. “You still riding Viv about that?”
“I’m not riding her about what happened ten years ago,” I say. “Not when we only have to go back a year to her turning down a great assignment in Paris.”
“She was pregnant with Madison,” Wallace reminds me. “Please don’t begrudge me my niece, Mary Tyler Moore.”
“Mary Tyler Moore?” I ask, not connecting any dots.
“Yes, Mary Tyler Moore,” Wallace says patiently, like we should know this. “Career woman from the seventies. Threw the hat up in the air in New York.”
“What have I told you about watching those seventies re-runs on Nick at Nite?” Kimba swats Wallace’s arm. “What’s next? Blow up dolls? How the hell am I supposed to find you a normal girl with you watching Mary Tyler Moore?”
“I don’t like normal girls,” Wallace says sullenly. “Find me someone like Lennix.”
“Hey,” I pipe up, offended. “I’m normal.”
They exchange a meaningful glance before looking back to me.
“You’re not normal even a little bit,” Wallace says. “It’s why I love you, Lennix.”
He says it just as the door opens and we come face-to-face with none other than Maxim Cade.
I should have prepared for this moment better. I vaguely recall experiments where continued exposure to certain stimuli desensitized the subjects to the impact of it. I should have spent last night playing footage of Maxim non-stop on a loop so I wouldn’t have this reaction to him.
I’ve seen him over the years, of course, on television, but that screen and distance diluted the full impact of those gemstone e
yes and the burnished dark hair. I couldn’t smell him, couldn’t feel like I’m standing in the shadow of a great wall. My body clenches reflexively, reminding me just how long it’s been since he was inside me. The blood melts in my veins, slowing to a languid crawl under the fixed heat of his stare.
Leaves crackle under someone’s feet down on the sidewalk. Autumn wind whistles through near-barren branches. My surroundings feed me sensory information to ground me in this moment where I can’t seem to look away from Maxim, and he doesn’t even seem to be trying to look away from me.
“Ahem,” Kimba clears her throat and shatters the charged silence, moving toward Maxim for a hug. “So good to see you, Maxim. Been too long.”
He pats her back, his eyes still set on me. When he looks down at her, my breath whooshes out, and I realize I haven’t breathed since he opened the door.
“Good to see you, too.” Maxim’s smile for Kimba is warm and sincere. “You’ve been shaking up the world, I see.”
“Had to.” Kimba laughs and tips her head. “Me and the Kingmaker over here. Can you believe this one?”
Maxim’s smile dissipates, and he turns his attention back to me.
“I believe it, yeah,” he says, his voice quiet. “I’ve always known Nix was exceptional.”
The painfully awkward silence stretches until I’m sure my ears will bleed.
“Hello, Maxim.” I don’t make any move toward him and he makes no move toward me. “Good to see you again.”
“Same,” he mutters. His eyes chill when they rest on Wallace. “Introduce me to your . . .”
No way in hell am I completing that sentence for him.
“This is Wallace Murrow,” I say, slipping my arm through Wallace’s. “Wall, Maxim Cade.”
“So pleased to meet you,” Wallace says, extending his hand. Maxim just stares at it for a few seconds, waiting just beyond polite and shy of rude before accepting Wallace’s outstretched hand.
Wallace shoots me a glance, equal parts bewilderment and irritation. “Um, I saw you testifying before Congress a few weeks—”
“It’s cool outside,” Maxim cuts in over Wallace and opens the door wider. “You guys come on in. Everyone else is here.”
I walk in first, evading the hand Maxim extends for my arm. Without looking at him, I follow the sound of voices.
Our hand-selected core team is spread across couches and tucked into corners, drinking and nibbling from trays of hors d’oeuvres. I walk over to Joe, our field director, and his wife Erin. They’re standing with a woman I recognize as Millicent Cade, one of the most powerful political wives and hostesses in the city. An invitation to one of her parties cements one’s place in DC society, and a snub from her solidifies one’s place outside of it.
“Good evening,” I greet the three of them. “Mrs. Cade, I’m Lennix Hunter. Nice to finally meet you.”
“Oh, I’ve heard so much about you, from Owen and Maxim,” she says, her cornflower blue eyes sharpening with speculation. “We need to chat real soon.”
“Yes, we have a lot to talk about. There’s a team member assigned to you for the campaign trail,” I say, deliberately misunderstanding her. “I think you’ll love June.”
“I’m sure I will,” she purrs, her smile deepening to pop dimples in her cheeks. “Be warned. I choose my own clothes.”
“You have perfect taste. June will just make sure it’s displayed perfectly on the trail.”
Our smiles reach a mutual understanding before she drifts off to check on her other guests.
“Impressive, these Cades,” Joe says. “Thanks for bringing me in.”
“I loved your work in Maryland for the governor’s race. Voter turnout was record-breaking, and I know that was your doing.”
“We’ll do that for Senator Cade and then some.” Joe glances over at Owen and Maxim standing by the fireplace chatting with Howard, our volunteer coordinator. “Quite the one-two punch, those brothers. We’ve got an embarrassment of riches to work with.”
Wallace joins us, a drink in each hand. Joe drifts off to join his wife Erin.
“Here’s your martini, um . . . darling,” Wallace says, handing me a glass.
“Be still, my heart,” I whisper. “That was so convincing. Can’t believe you’re not down on your knees proposing yet.”
“Thanks to you,” Wallace grinds out, “Maxim Cade has been treating me like a pariah all night.”
“And by all night, you mean in the fifteen minutes since we’ve arrived?”
“He’s staring daggers at me.” Wallace demonstrates with a pseudo-scary glare. “Like this.”
My involuntary snort-laugh morphs into a gut buster, which often happens with Wallace. I lean into him, burying my face and chuckling against his shoulder.
“Thanks a lot,” Wallace says, but I hear some answering humor in his voice. “I’m getting even more daggers now.”
“Has he been rude to you?” I glance up at him, still leaning on his shoulder. “I mean since he looked at you like you were a bottom feeder and practically refused to shake your hand?”
“I tried to talk to him about his work with recycling systems in developing countries, and he walked off.”
I wince. “He’s being ridiculous. I don’t get it.”
“I think he heard me say I love you.”
“Which is none of his business. I’m none of his business.”
“You’re going to have to talk to him.” He chews on something delicious-smelling wrapped in bacon. “How long do we have to do this pretend relationship?”
“Would you just shut it?” I glance around to make sure no one heard. “You’re the worst beard ever.”
“Am not.”
“Are too. He’s more likely to believe I’m dating Kimba at the rate you’re going, falling at his feet and shit.”
“I just admire him and would like to have actual conversations with him about real world issues.”
“Would you also like long walks on the beach with him?” I take a much-needed sip of the martini. “Maybe wear his letterman jacket? Date to the prom?”
“If I didn’t love you so much . . .” He fixes a deer-in-headlights stare over my shoulder. “Uh, Maxim. Hi. We were just . . . that new electric car you’re developing. I think it’s great.”
A chilly silence meets Wallace’s comment. I don’t look over my shoulder to acknowledge Maxim.
“Thanks,” he replies to Wallace after a few more frigid seconds. “Dinner’s about to be served. I was wondering if I could talk to you for a second, Nix?”
“I don’t think so,” I murmur into my martini glass. “But thanks for the heads up on dinner. Ready, Wall?”
Wallace looks at me like I kicked his puppy for a second and then grits out, “Yes, dear.”
I drag him to follow everyone else into the dining room. Wallace and I are seated at one end of the table with Kimba and a few others from the team. Maxim sits near Cade and Millicent at the other end, and they’re joined by the Cades’ tow-headed twins, both of whom have excellent table manners and infectious laughs. “Uncle Max’s” rich baritone drifts down to my end of the table more than once, punctuated with childish giggles. The shield over my heart almost slips at the sight and the sound of Maxim connected to his family. In Amsterdam, I could tell he missed them. From what I know, his relationship with his father remains strained, but it’s good to see him with Owen’s family.
“So what do you do, Murray?” Maxim’s question winnows all the way down the table and through the varied conversations like an arrow. “For a living, I mean.”
An awkward silence spreads over the group, everyone unsure if they should wait for Wallace’s response or return to their own conversations.
“Uh, it’s Murrow.” Wallace clears his throat. “And to answer your question, I’m a biochemist. I specialize in vaccine development.”
“Wow,” Bill says with elevated eyebrows, obviously impressed. “Smart guy, huh?”
Wallace shrugs, self
-conscious and never comfortable being the center of attention. “Everyone has their specialty, I guess,” he mumbles.
“But they’re not just handing out doctorates in biochemistry over at MIT,” I say.
“Duke,” Wallace corrects softly.
“Duke,” I say, the pride I feel for my friend something I don’t have to fake. “Wallace is brilliant. He focuses on making vaccines more effective in developing nations.”
“Admirable,” Millicent says from the north end of the table, sending Wallace a kind smile.
“Lennix and Wall are actually going to administer vaccines in a few months,” Kimba adds, winking at Wallace. “This is what? Your sixth service trip together?”
“Seventh,” I correct. “And don’t worry, guys. I’m not doing anything that involves a needle.”
“What will you be doing?” Millicent asks.
“Our team is helping with some building projects,” I answer.
“Where?” Maxim asks, a frown between his dark brows.
I meet his eyes directly, as I’ve rarely done at all tonight. My single lifted brow asks what the hell it has to do with him, but I answer. “Talamanca. The Bribri reserve there has the largest indigenous population in Costa Rica. Over ten thousand.”
“Lenny’s taking a group of students from the San Carolos Reservation in Arizona with us,” Wallace adds.
“It’s great for them to see another indigenous community,” I say. “One with so much of their culture and language intact. They think we’re going to serve the people of Bribri, but honestly, these students will gain more than they give. At least that’s how it always is for me.”
“It’s safe?” Maxim demands, forcing me to meet his eyes again.
I shouldn’t have looked at him because an invisible stream of memory passes between us. Every kiss, every touch, every time we laughed and made love, flash on a superhighway from my eyes to his. It’s a head-on collision that leaves me shaken, exposed, with everyone at the table witnessing the wreckage.
I lower my eyes and draw a deep breath.
“Very safe,” Wallace answers, his voice quiet and sure. “I would never do anything to put Lenny in danger.”
The Kingmaker Page 23