“What are you doing tonight?” he asked.
Never taking my attention from my typing hands, I said, “Working.”
He nodded. “Well, maybe when you’re done, I can take you to this great pub right down the street. Best hoagies in town.”
“You want to buy me a sandwich?” Great. Just great. Last night I was stood up by an accountant I had seen a few times before. He made it obvious that his life was more glamorous than mine.
“Yeah. I want to buy you a sandwich,” Leo said with a wide smile.
I wanted to scoff, but those dimples caught my eye again and he shifted just enough for me to catch a peek of the black leather belt lining his hips, and he had me thinking twice. I never had a daddy complex . . . I had a John Stamos complex, Full House edition. And this guy, with his oozing swagger and way-too-sexy sex appeal, was the last thing I needed right now. I was standing on the outskirts and staring down a political shit storm that threatened my job—a job I had to beg for while beating out several other qualified applicants with better last names and a more powerful family than I had—and delivery boy over here was not helping.
“No thanks,” I said quickly before I could change my mind. Because a sub and casual conversation with a hot guy sounded better than anything I had going on later. I wasn’t even going to count how long it had been since I rounded second with a man, let alone more . . .
My gaze briefly shot to his mouth again. He stood to his full height, which was a couple inches over six feet, and adjusted his ball cap.
“You just broke my heart, Red.” He put a palm over his chest and before he left, turned to say, “But I’m not giving up on you.”
I gave an exasperated look and waved him off. Problem was, the view of his ass as he left was amazing to look at and depressing to watch walk away. All I could think about was what he’d look like naked. I was hard up, tired of feeling lacking in a ritzy environment of power and money, and the one job I earned was on the brink of slipping through my hands. I had a feeling today was going to get a hell of a lot harder real quick.
It was almost six o’clock when Governor Reese finally came back.
“Paige, can you come into my office please?” he said in a rough tone.
I hustled and followed him in, shutting the door behind me.
He sat behind his desk, smacked a manila envelope down, and ran his thumb and fingers along his brow as if trying to rub away a headache.
“Bill is resigning,” he said with no sweet coating to his words.
I stood in front of his desk, hands folded in front of me, staring in shock. I knew this was coming, but now that the rea
lity of it hit, it was like taking on an extra fifty pounds of stress and fear. Now was the part I’d been dreading.
“I can help weather this storm, Governor,” I said. Ever since Roman started seeing my best friend, Amy, things were a little more relaxed between us. He was a good man, but he was still the governor of New York and our relationship was professional.
He looked up at me and something in his eyes made my stomach drop to the floor. “I don’t think you can, Paige. Several interns have come forward claiming to have had a sexual relationship with Bill.”
“Several?” I repeated. I’d heard there might be more than one, but it was still surreal to hear confirmation. I knew a lot of the interns. I also knew that most of them would do just about anything to climb the career ladder. All I could think about was Bill’s poor wife when she found out.
“I can help,” I said again. It took everything I had to put myself through college and get this job.
I left home the second I graduated high school. But age fifteen, after stepdad number three snuck into my room and mom didn’t believe me, was the turning point in my adolescence. Word got around town that I was the “girl who cried rape,” which led to an unflattering reputation. The kind that only attracted the wrong types of men. I spent the next couple years avoiding my house. But I was always viewed as trash. I knew it deep down. The guys who offered me an escape made it very clear I was beneath them since the entire town looked down on me already for accusing a respected man like Frank of attempted rape. I left and hadn’t looked back since.
Attracting assholes was a skill that followed me through college until my first internship event when I made the mistake of bringing the guy I was dating, and the night ended in him punching a city council member he claimed I was flirting with. That was when I swore off that kind of man. The bad boys with an easy smile and even easier view on life.
But after all the shit, the worst part was that my mother didn’t believe me, and she was still married to Frank. All that didn’t matter anymore though, because I was better now. I wasn’t that worthless, powerless girl with nothing. I strived every day for more. And that more was my job. There was very little in my life outside of it.
“I don’t think you can help, Paige.” Roman slid the envelope toward me.
Frowning, I took it and opened it. My heart instantly stopped. Which was odd since my pulse pounded in my ears harder.
Sickness rose in my throat and I thought for sure I’d pass out.
The photos were of Bill and me.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I breathed, flipping through them.
One showed Bill leaning across a restaurant table, looking like he was about to kiss me. In another, he had his hand on my hip, his mouth by my ear. These were all taken when I first started working here and didn’t know how to handle his advances. He had asked me to dinner several times to “discuss work.” I went. I even smiled. Thinking that this was how things worked. I shrugged away whenever he got too close the best I could. It took me a few months to realize that Bill was “that kind of guy,” only a little more polished and in a suit. But judging by the photos, I looked like I was enjoying myself. Like there was more to it.