The General (Professionals 4)

It would take just a few swipes.

Just a couple dabs of the special makeup I kept in the drawer of my vanity meant for just this purpose. A couple dabs and swipes and no one would ever know there was a bruise there. I’d been doing it for years.

Who would have thought that that would be a hard habit to break?

Vanity had a way of making even rational people ridiculous.

I sighed, standing, slipping my feet into blue ballet flats, and making my way downstairs.

And almost fell down them.

My brain, not quite ready to accept my new reality, saw Teddy.

And my heart just about gave out.

“Whoa, you alright, sweetheart?” a male voice called.

Not Teddy.

Smith.

And, sure enough, the figure standing in the doorway to Teddy’s library was not Teddy. It was Smith. In a black suit.

And, oh, yeah, it looked good on him. Better than I could have imagined. He had the perfect wide shoulders, solid center, and height for one. The tailoring was perfect too, the material good. His shirt underneath was slate. There was no tie and the topmost button was left open – a tiny rebellion I found myself liking more than I should have.

“Yeah, sorry. I just got a little light-headed,” I fibbed.

“You haven’t been eating anything of sustenance,” he said as I got to the bottom step. “Let’s get you some breakfast. I asked Lydia to make some eggs. Actually, I said I was going to, and she shooed me out of the kitchen saying it was her job. We’ll have her throw some extra on for you.”

So we did.

And I insisted he eat in the dining room with me which got me looks of disapproval from Maritza and Lydia who clearly thought it was inappropriate, that he was staff and should eat in the kitchen.

But, just this once, I didn’t care.

So we ate over-easy eggs with toast and bowls of fruit in stony, uncomfortable silence, both of us all-too-aware of Maritza constantly moving by the room to see if she could catch any snippet of conversation.

The bell rang when I was halfway through my fruit.

“So it begins,” Smith said, piling his plates for Lydia to take when she rushed out of the kitchen with Maritza who was spraying air freshener around, grumbling about the house smelling like eggs.

“So it begins,” I agreed with an utter lack of enthusiasm.

The next three hours were a blur of fake condolences, prying questions, and pretend crying when I needed to steer the conversation away.

When one crowd left, another seemed to trickle in.

Until there was only a trio left, and two of them needed to get going for very important facial visits, leaving only Maren hanging behind.

Maren was the woman who none of the other women liked. Independently wealthy, unmarried, beautiful in a natural way.

She was nearly six feet with a Victoria Secret model body – long legs, thin waist, wider hips, big breasts, and a high butt. Her long chestnut hair cascaded carelessly down her back, framed her face full of sharp features and large brown eyes. She had never, in all my experience in seeing her, worn a stitch of makeup.

“I know this is wildly inappropriate of me,” she said, stopping in the doorway of the living room, turning back to face me. “But good riddance.”

“I’m sorry?” I asked, shocking back a bit from the harshness in her tone more so than the words themselves.

“See, Jenny. My mom used to get her ass handed to her by her ne’er do well husband. I know all about those bruises you hid so well under all that makeup. And I know how many women he hit on when your back was turned. So maybe this was a shock for you, but good fucking riddance. You can finally be free of that asshole. One little bit of advice, though, hon,” she said, having turned to walk away, but spinning back, leaning closer. “Fire the staff. Change the passwords. If you really want control over your life, you need to pry the senator’s grip off of the controls.”

And with that, she was gone, her five-inch boots clicking all the way down the hall and entryway before the front door slammed, and I could vaguely hear her car rumbling to life.

“What’s wrong?” Smith asked, appearing out of nowhere, having been mostly a ghost, just a shadow in the distance, for the past several hours.

“Maren knew that Teddy beat me,” I heard myself whisper, moving further into the room in case some of the staff was around. With their rubber-soled shoes, it was almost impossible to hear them coming most of the time.

“Because of the whole Mallick thing?”

Ugh.

That name always felt like a gut punch, knocking out all my air, making guilt like I could never explain flood my system.

He’d saved me.

And he was rewarded by having his freedom taken away.