Mr Garcia

“Her pussy has twenty-four settings.” He raises his brows to accentuate his point.

I laugh out loud, and he does, too. “I’m not sharing you with a twenty-four setting pussy.”

He kisses me softly.

“But the big, blue dildo… he can stay.” I smile against his lips.

“Yeah, no. That fucker’s gone.

Sebastian

“I’ve got to go babe.” I take April in my arms and hold her tightly. God, I love this woman. I hug her harder.

“Good luck, today.”

I exhale heavily. Nerves are coursing through my veins. “Thanks. It’s being announced at 9:00 a.m.”

“You’re going to win the vote.” She smiles as she rearranges my collar. “I can feel it in my waters.”

“If I don’t, it’s a good excuse to quit politics.”

“Then you can be my full-time sex slave.” She smiles up at me.

“I’m already your full-time sex slave.” I pump her with my hips.

“We’ll go out and celebrate when you get home, regardless of the outcome.” She smiles.

“Okay.”

I kiss her and make my way out to my car. It feels so weird. Tonight, I’ll return to the house either as the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom or completely retired from politics. I’ve already made the call. If I’m not voted in then I’m walking away.

We sit in the boardroom as the votes are read out. My mind is heavily on Theodore today.

Where is he now? Did he find the peace he was looking for?

When did I last speak to him? I discreetly take my phone out of my pocket and put it under the table on my lap. I go through my call register and scroll back as I search for his name. I’m scrolling and scrolling when something rolls past. I frown, stop, and scroll back up.

Huh.

Outgoing call: April 4th 8 minutes Helena

When did I call Helena?

What?

I look at the date and frown. When was that? Did I butt dial her by accident or something?

I think back to the date. Why does that sound familiar?

I do the math.

My heart drops.

That’s the night I was drugged.

My heart begins to hammer in my chest and the room spins. I don’t remember anything about this.

Why the hell did I call Helena? And what the fuck did we talk about for eight minutes?

“The next Prime Minister of The United Kingdom is Sebastian Garcia,” the speaker announces.

I glance up to the sound of applause, completely rattled. The room is in a standing ovation. I stand and fake a smile. “Thank you.”

What did I talk to Helena about?

Fuck.

28

April

I sip my coffee as I watch the television on my work computer. The office is abuzz with excitement as everyone waits for the final vote. They’re all doing the same as me, watching the coverage live from their desks.

The footage shows the candidates all sitting in the House of Lords in what looks like a courtroom. The commentators are rattling on about who they think is going to win, and how Garcia is the front runner.

Garcia.

I smile proudly. It seems so surreal that this is my life—that I am dating the Sebastian Garcia.

To me, he’s just a guy who gave a beggar in the street money, and then he bought a bad cup of coffee. It seems like forever ago that we met, and we’ve been through so much bullshit, but somehow, he made me fall madly in love with him.

And, oh, do I love him.

The footage hones in on Sebastian.

This is it.

“The next Prime Minister of The United Kingdom is Sebastian Garcia,” the speaker announces.

“Yes.” I clap my hands in excitement. The rest of our office breaks out into cheers and loud yelling.

I watch on as Sebastian glances up to the sound of applause. He looks completely rattled, and I laugh at his shocked face.

The room performs a standing ovation, and Sebastian rises to nervously dip his head and smile. “Thank you.”

I well up with tears as I watch him take to the podium. He’s so humble.

With his dark hair and olive skin, and his big, beautiful heart on display for the rest of the country, I could just die with pride.

“He did it.” Jeremy laughs as he comes around the corner. He hugs me and nearly knocks me from my feet. “He did it!” he cries.

“I know.” I put my hands over my mouth, hardly able to believe it. “He did.”

"I can't wait to speak with him." I gush.

Jeremy lies back on the chair in my room wearing a goofy grin. “Look at you, all in love with the Prime Minister and shit.”

I giggle as I turn the television coverage off. “Who even am I?”

“The envy of every woman.”

I pick up my pen, and an idea springs to mind. “Don’t plan anything for lunch break today.”

“Why, what are we doing?”

“Buying a congratulatory present.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Something special that Sebastian can keep forever. A keepsake.”

“Hmm.” He narrows his eyes. “I’ll brainstorm. We need to blow his fucking mind with this gift.” He walks toward the door and turns back. “Lunch at one?”