Twenty-Six

EVERETT

“I’m still a liar. I’m not okay with you going out with another guy,” I blurt out the moment the door opens.

Cora’s jaw drops low enough for me to see the piercing on her tongue, and I immediately want to suck on it. Is that a thing people do? Don’t know. Don’t care. It’s now a more important goal than getting elected.

“What are you doing here?” She angles into the hallway, and I figure she’s looking around for one of two things. The first: drunk ass Dalton—because getting hammered and then showing up at a woman’s doorstep is exactly the kind of thing he does and would encourage me to do. The second: sneaky ass Lander—because spiraling into a lust-fueled obsession and then showing up at a woman’s doorstep is exactly the kind of thing he does and would encourage me to do.

For what it’s worth, I’m alone—but certainly a little drunk and a little obsessed.

Shit. That’s also a lie. I’m more than a little obsessed. I’m the pinnacle, the epitome, and the redefinition of obsession.

Cora straightens her spine. “Everett,” she says, snapping her fingers in front of my face—because yeah, I admittedly got distracted by her phenomenal ass when she leaned into the hallway. “I said, what are you doing here?”

“Stopping you,” I declare, only realizing how pathetic I sound when I say the words aloud. “…Or, like, strongly encouraging you to reconsider your plans of your own volition.”

Sighing, Cora latches her hand around my wrist and tugs me into her condo, where Essie and Valeria’s surprised expressions greet me. Valeria appears to be mid-drink, holding a shot of something clear and a lime wedge. Essie, on the other hand, is clutching a canned energy drink and what appears to be a stack of index cards.

“Thank god you two are here,” I say before looping my arm around Cora’s shoulders and drawing her close to me. “I thought Cora was still going out to meet a guy.”

“I am. We all are,” Cora clarifies.

Horrified, I tilt my head down to see her face. “You’re letting some guy crash girls’ night ? Lander doesn’t even get to go to girls’ night and following Valeria around is literally his entire personality.”

“All true,” Valeria admits, raising her shoulder.

Cora faces me. “Come talk to me.”

Once her bedroom door is closed behind us, I take her in. She’s wearing this mind-boggling dress: a short, tight number with long sleeves from her biceps to her fingers. Her shoulders and the tops of her breasts are bare, and her gold nipple piercings glint through the fabric—no bra.

Her long hair is in a ponytail on the crown of her head, and these loose tendrils frame her face. It’s cute—like indescribably cute. I’ve never seen Cora wear a ponytail before, but it shows off all the metal in her ears. And this woman and I are really on the same wavelength: All her jewelry is gold tonight, and so is my cock piercing.

But she did all this for some other asshole. The thought is so upsetting that I genuinely want to evaporate.

“I’m going to commit a felony tonight,” I announce. “I’m not sure what kind of felony, but murder one isn’t off the table.”

Cora embraces me. “And here I thought you would be content with a misdemeanor, but I should have known better than to underestimate you.”

“Don’t go. I know it’s PR, but let’s reconsider. I’ve got a lot of campaign dollars earmarked for ads, and we could pay off someone at the Post—”

“What you’re describing is bribery,” Cora interjects. “And as fun as it would be for us to commit light felonies together, we should play it safe. Be rational.”

“Rational? That ship sailed when you dumped a gin and tonic on me.” I take a step forward. “Forget about this. Stay in with me. Let me satisfy you the way I promised during your stream last night.”

Cora’s body freezes in my arms and I know she remembers what I sent to her public chat for everyone to see: I’m going to press you up against a wall and make good use of every hole on you.

When I pull back, I realize I’ve finally done it—I’ve stunned Cora Flores. Lips parted, she shakes her head. “No,” she mutters to herself before her eyes lock on mine and narrow the tiniest bit. “We’re doing this.”

Cora reenters the living room, and some best friend telepathy takes place. Valeria throws back her shot—no chaser. She then makes a beeline for the front door, where she pokes her head into the hallway. “Lander!”

“Yeah, baby?” my best friend shouts back immediately as if he were waiting by the door for his fiancée to pay attention to him.

“Come get your boy,” Valeria instructs.

Lander appears in the doorway to Cora’s condo and his face pulls back in surprise when he sees me. “I was fully expecting Dalton,” he admits. “You’re supposed to be home prepping for the Regina Rutherson interview.”

“Fuck Regina Rutherson,” I respond—something nobody has ever said about 24N’s most powerful anchor. I motion to Cora, whose face still hasn’t entirely lost its stunned expression. “She’s more important.”

“Everett, it’s PR,” Cora protests. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“You don’t have to do this,” I insist, taking another step toward her. In my periphery, Valeria flinches. I look over and raise an eyebrow.

“Sorry,” Valeria mutters. “It’s a reflex. I’m not used to Cora letting guys go near her so…easily.”

“Wait, were you about to throw hands?” I question.

“She was,” Cora remarks, placing her thumb and index finger on my chin and orienting my face so I’m looking at her. “And she’ll do the same thing if anyone gets handsy tonight. I’ll be fine.”

The thought of some leather-wearing, I-don’t-really-vote,-you-know?, cigarette-butt flicking degenerate coming up behind her and touching her in a grimy club is my literal nightmare. “No. Nope. I hate it. I’m begging you to stay home.”

Cora sighs. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but: Stop begging . It’s just PR.”

“Don’t care. I don’t want you out with someone else. Men looking at you is one thing, but I’m the only one who gets you.”

“Everett.” Cora takes a step forward. “I want to do this for you. I want you to win. You seriously can’t survive one night where a guy I’ll never see again buys me a drink and takes a picture with me?”

“I would rather die ,” I reply immediately.

Cora lifts both eyebrows. “You’re serious,” she mutters. “I did it. I rewired Everett Logan.”

“Call Beverly and cancel.”

“Then she’ll tell your father,” Cora counters. “Is that what you want? You want Governor Warren E. Logan to know?”

When I don’t answer right away, Cora knows she won the hand. She kisses me. “Everett, I’m going. I’ll be at your house in two hours. Can you last two hours?”

“Uber’s here,” Essie announces while she tugs on her heels by the door. “Let’s please not mess up my rating by making him wait, okay? Okay, great.”

Nearly panicking, I tighten my grip on Cora. “Don’t go.”

Cora lets out a slow exhale. “I didn’t want it to come to this, but…” She rises on her toes to look past me. “Lander, can you…”

“No,” I protest. “Princess, don’t you fucking go—”

But right when I’m moving toward Cora, Lander grabs my arm. He hauls me into the hallway, and I fight the whole way.