Cruel Money (Cruel 1)

It was that look in his eyes that did it.

Day four, we woke up late. Really late. We’d had a late night that included a bubble bath and most of the surfaces in the house.

After we ate brunch, Penn grabbed a fleece blanket, his notebook, and a threadbare copy of The Great Gatsby, and he insisted we head down to the beach. I took my own notebook and followed him with interest.

I laid my head in his lap. The sea breeze kissed my skin. The waves lapped up to the edge of the beach. Penn read to me about Daisy and Gatsby’s great love. Fitzgerald’s incredible prose in Penn’s mouth was like having sex for a lover of words.

On the fifth day, I had to deal with the decorators as they rushed to the finish line for the mayor’s party on Saturday, which coincided with my last day of work. I was in a daze of happiness, even as we stood on a precipice. The halfway mark. There were now fewer days together than apart.

I fell asleep in his arms with Versailles playing in the background, and he didn’t wake me. Just stroked my hair until the episode ended and carried me to bed.

Day six, election day.

Penn had voted early, and I’d voted absentee in South Carolina. So, we sat around the living room and halfheartedly watched the election results come in. I was no lover of politics, except in the instances in which certain issues were life or death for me. Penn had grown up with a mother in the political sphere, and Lark had been working on campaigns for years. His interest ran deeper than mine, and it was actually interesting, hearing his side of it.

We popped open a bottle of champagne when it was announced that President Woodhouse had won reelection.

The day after the election, I woke up in a tangle of limbs. My head pounded from all the champagne we’d consumed the night before. I took a long, hot shower and blew my hair out before Penn even surfaced from the bed.

“Morning,” he said, kissing my cheek and then disappearing for his own shower.

I tugged on yoga pants and a sweatshirt before brewing a pot of coffee. Penn gratefully took his cup and drained it, piping hot.

“You’re insane.”

He grinned. “For you maybe.”

I finished mine without scalding myself, and then he put Totle on a leash and dragged me outside for our daily walk on the beach. Our fingers were locked. Totle bounded along, taking in every sight and sound. Sniffing and peeing on everything. The little ball of energy nearly pulled Penn’s arm out of its socket as he tried to take down a bird on the beach.

It was brisk, and we hustled back inside the house, trying to keep up with the puppy and get warm. Penn unleashed Totle and let him fly inside. But he grabbed me around the middle and tugged me close. My cold nose grazed his. Our lips met.

I was already trying to sneak my cold hands under his jacket. He was squirming to stop me from freezing him.

A voice cleared behind us.

Our heads whipped to the side in surprise. No one was supposed to be here. The decorator wasn’t due until that afternoon.

And then my jaw dropped.

My stomach with it.

“What exactly is going on here?” Mayor Kensington asked.

Natalie

33

Penn and I jumped apart as if we’d been burned.

“Mother,” Penn said in shock. “What are you doing here?”

“What am I doing here?” Leslie Kensington asked. She straightened her shoulders and managed to look down on her son who was a half-foot taller than her. And she did it with ease. “I think the correction question is, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be teaching a little class or whatever it is you do over at the university?”

He gritted his teeth. “I’m on sabbatical to finish a book.”

“And you thought diddling the help would be a better use of your time?”

I winced at the statement. That must have been exactly what it looked like to her. I hadn’t thought about Penn’s mom at all. She was my boss, and I hadn’t considered what would happen if she found out about us. Mostly because I had never even met the woman. We’d never even spoken.

“That is not what is happening here,” Penn said defensively.

“Oh, you’re not screwing the help…again?”

“It’s not like that with Natalie.”

She shook her head in dismay. “Where did I go wrong with you and your brother?” Then her eyes darted to me as if she had remembered someone so insignificant was in the room. “And you…”

“I am so sorry, Mayor Kensington. I didn’t know that Penn was going to be staying at the house while I was here. I see now that I should have reported that information to you,” I said reluctantly.