24. Jesse

Chapter 24

Jesse

My cell phone buzzed on the table beside me, and I almost jumped out of my skin. God, now what? Was there no downtime that couldn’t be interrupted?

Scowling, I picked up my phone, but my heart fluttered when Anthony’s name appeared on the screen.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey.” He paused. “Listen, um…”

Something twisted in my gut. “Something wrong?”

“Not really.” Another pause. “I mean, no. Nothing’s wrong.” A long, tense pause. “I… Would now be a bad time to, I guess, meet somewhere?”

“Where?”

“Anywhere,” he whispered. “I can…I’ll…” He paused for a few nerve-racking seconds. When was Anthony ever at a loss for words like this? Finally he said, “Another hotel. Somewhere other than here.”

I shivered. Didn’t take a genius to figure out what he wanted if it needed to happen in a different hotel than the one we were already in, but something in his voice unsettled me. “Tell me where,” I said quietly. “I’ll meet you.”

“All right. I’ll text you when I find a place.”

After we hung up, I chewed the inside of my cheek and absently tapped my silent phone on my knee. My gaze drifted toward Simone’s luggage, which was stacked neatly beside mine, and I stared at it like it was an effigy of her. She was out for the evening with some friends in town. Any other night, I’d have called Anthony back and said we ought to hold off. Wait until we were somewhere without Simone so she didn’t have to suspect anything.

But as our brief conversation echoed in my head, along with that odd undercurrent in his voice and that uncharacteristic difficulty figuring out what to say, I couldn’t justify bailing on him. Not now. Not even if it meant all but announcing to Simone that I was leaving to do what I’d promised myself I wouldn’t throw in her face.

It was almost an hour before Anthony texted me with an address and a room number. With guilt and nerves and arousal vying for dominance, I silently begged Simone for forgiveness as I picked up my wallet and room key. I glanced at her luggage once more, that still, silent symbol of the woman who deserved better than this.

Please forgive me, Simone. He needs something. Something’s wrong. I have to go to him.

On my way to the elevator, I paused. I didn’t have a rental car this time, nor did I have my own with me. We were only a couple of hours out of LA, and I’d ridden in this morning with Ranya since her car was less conspicuous and used less gas than mine .

I went to her door, hesitated, and then knocked.

When she answered, I said, “You mind if I borrow your car for a couple of hours?”

Her eyebrows shot up. “You? Drive my car?”

“Oh, come on. All that stuff I said about your car, I was kidding.”

“It’s not that. I’ve just seen the way you drive.” Her eyes narrowed. “But you have said some pretty unflattering things about my car…”

“Please?” I lowered my voice. “You know I wouldn’t ask unless—”

“Jesus, Jesse.” Her eyes widened. “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” I waved a hand. “I’m fine, I just…I really need to get out of here. Discreetly.”

“Okay, okay.” She glanced over her shoulder, then looked at me again. “Why don’t I go get it instead of having you walk out there?” She grinned. “I’ll park it out back by one of the service entrances. Then you can leave all incognito and James Bond-like.”

I snorted. “Yeah, okay.”

She giggled. “Let me get my keys.”

As promised, Ranya brought her car around to one side of the hotel, and I slipped out through an employee entrance.

Pressing the keys into my hand, she gave me what almost passed for a stern look. “Be nice to my car, Cameron, or there will be trouble.”

“So no drag racing, peeling around corners, and—”

“Do it, and you’re a dead man.”

I put my shoulders back. “You know, threatening a governor is a federal offense.”

“You’re not governor yet.” She nodded sharply at her car. “That thing comes back with a scratch on it or any less than a full tank, you won’t live to be governor.”

“Ooh, I’m scared.”

“As well you should be.”

I laughed, then started toward the car. “Thanks, Ranya. I really appreciate it.”

She smiled. “Anytime.”

As she disappeared into the hotel, I got in the car, adjusted the seat, put the address Anthony had texted me into the GPS, and got the hell out of there. I hadn’t lied about taking care of her car while it was in my possession, but it was tempting to peel out of the parking lot and see just how fast this thing would go once I hit the highway. Not because I needed to drive fast or be reckless, but because the hotel wasn’t fading fast enough in the rearview.

All the way there, though, I drove closer to the speed limit than I ever had in my life. Every car waiting to turn onto the highway was a Crown Victoria waiting to pull me over, and every motorcycle was a CHP who’d clocked me at way faster than I was actually driving. Just what I needed: a speeding ticket and a so where were you going that night in another woman’s car without your wife and in such a hurry, Mr. Cameron? They’d know. Everyone would know. I was a speeding ticket away from all of California knowing I was en route to an adulterous liaison with my secret gay lover.

Nerves, paranoia, and anticipation had me gripping the wheel for dear life as I drove through the night. I swore the odometer was rolling backward, that every mile I gained was ten miles in the wrong direction. Ranya’s GPS assured me I was on the right track, though, and it finally told me to turn off the highway onto a badly paved two-lane.

Shortly after that, a sign came into view: MOTEL in blue block letters on a glowing, dirty white background. Below that, red neon formed the skeletal letters spelling out VACANCY beside an indecisively flickering NO.

A pair of weak streetlights illuminated a gravel parking lot in front of a run-down, single-level building with maybe a dozen rooms and an office. It looked like one of those motels where people came to make illegal transactions and secret love children. Wouldn’t have surprised me if a body or two had been found here. The place was creepy, sleazy, and about the unsexiest locale I could think of, but I just didn’t care because Anthony was here and something wasn’t right. This place was discreet, and given the choice between spending time here and not finding out what had Anthony so rattled? Sign me up for a night in the Bates-Roach Motel.

Heart pounding, I turned off the road. Gravel crunched beneath the tires, and my headlights arced across pale blue exterior walls, curtain-shrouded windows, and numbered doors. Weathered railroad ties on the gravel divided the parking area from the building, each six-foot beam indicating one parking space. Most rooms had one or two cars—everything from beaters that I couldn’t imagine had moved recently to a gleaming black Cadillac Escalade—parked out front.

The room Anthony had indicated, though, had two vacant spaces. A faint, warm glow behind the thick curtains was the only indication anyone was in room nine, but just to be sure, I double-checked the room number. Nosed up to the railroad tie in front of that room, beside the empty space where I’d have expected to see Anthony’s car, and checked the number again before I put the car in park. Again after I’d gotten out of the car. One last time as I stood in front of the door.

Then I tapped on the door.

A second later, it opened, and after I’d stepped inside and closed it behind me, we didn’t bother with small talk or even a thank God you’re here . I grabbed onto him and found only skin. No shirt. His kiss was deep and desperate, but there was something else. Something I’d heard in his voice over the phone and couldn’t quite define, something that unsettled me.

I pulled back, and my heart jumped into my throat .

Anthony’s shoulders were bunched with tension, like he was on the verge of shivering to ward off a phantom chill. He was a difficult man to read, but he looked like he couldn’t even figure out what was on his mind. Was he angry? Confused? Lost? Ready to hurt someone, ready to break down?

I touched his face, and he jumped.

“Jesus, Anthony,” I said. “Are you all right?”

He swallowed hard and nodded, then pulled me closer to him. “I’m fine. I don’t…” He paused and touched his forehead to mine. “I can’t explain it. I just, I needed to see you.”

I moistened my lips. “Well, I’m here.”

“Thank God,” he breathed and pulled me into his arms again. A low growl emerged from the back of his throat as he pushed me up against the door and claimed a deep, breathless kiss. He wasn’t just horny, that much was apparent. His fingers shook as they ran through my hair, and he kissed me with a foundation-rattling franticness that went beyond lust and desperation. He tasted like smoke, recent smoke, and I had visions of him shaking and swearing and chain-smoking on the way here and while he waited.

I drew back again, panting as I looked in his eyes. “What’s gotten into you tonight?”

Anthony closed his eyes and exhaled through his nose. Then he shook his head. Meeting my eyes, he said, “I don’t want to think about it right now.” And with that, he cupped my face in both hands and kissed me again, and whatever was on his mind, I didn’t want to think about it either. Not until we put out this fire that threatened to bring the whole motel down around us.

From the unmistakable, if indefinable, hunger in his eyes, I expected him to be rougher than usual. I thought he’d be tearing clothes and leaving marks, but he was gentle. Slow, tender, almost cautious. Every button was safe from being torn off, every seam safe from ripping, and each piece of clothing landed as softly on the floor as my back landed on the bed and Anthony’s lips landed on my skin.

He kissed his way down my chest, and my abs contracted in anticipation of his soft, warm lips. Between kisses, he released hot, ragged breaths across my flesh, and he took his time in spite of the quiet desperation that reverberated through his every touch and motion.

His lips lingered on my hip for a moment, just long enough to drive me out of my mind, and then he went down on me. He held himself up on one arm and stroked my cock with his other hand. His talented lips and tongue followed his hand up and down, up and down, up and down, and I propped myself up on my elbows so I could watch him. His shoulders quivered, tensed, and relaxed with every motion, his forearm rippling in time with his strokes, and oh God, his dark eyes flicked up to meet mine for a fleeting second before he swallowed my cock to the hilt .

I let myself sink back to the bed and closed my eyes. Desperate just to touch him, for one more point of intense contact, I ran my fingers through his hair, and he groaned against my skin.

There was no need to stay quiet out here, away from anyone who knew us or knew why this shouldn’t be happening, but I was still afraid to make a sound. Like someone might be right outside listening for that damning moan, or they might have their ear pressed to the wall from the next room to hear me call out Anthony’s name.

Anthony stopped, and I whimpered in protest.

“Don’t stop, Anthony,” I said as he moved over me. “God, don’t—”

“Get on your hands and knees,” he whispered, letting his lips graze mine as he spoke.

I had no idea how I intended to hold myself up, but I nodded anyway. As I changed position, the sound of tearing foil made me shiver. Then the lube bottle clicked. I closed my eyes, holding my breath and shaking with anticipation. Without the sound of my own breathing, his was more apparent, and I realized he was out of breath. Panting, swearing, breathing hard, breathing fast.

“You all right?” I asked.

“Definitely.” He knelt behind me, and his hand warmed my hip. As his weight shifted over me, more skin heating my back, he whispered, “I just want you so bad I can’t see straight.” He kissed between my shoulders. Then a little higher. Still higher, working his way up to the base of my neck. His weight shifted again, and a second later, a cool, slick fingertip teased my entrance. I chewed my lip, resisting the urge to beg him to just fuck me. Much as I loved the things he did with his fingers, I wanted his cock, and I wanted it right now.

He must have heard my thoughts, or he was thinking along the same lines, because he only teased me for a moment before withdrawing his fingers. Groaning softly, he pressed his cock against me, and as he pushed in, my arms damn near collapsed under me. I had long ago gotten used to this sensation, and I took him easily, but my eyes still watered and even from that first stroke, I was both sure I could—needed to—handle this and certain I’d fall apart before he took another. It was the start of the rising tension, the escalating intensity that would ultimately lead to the release I so badly craved. That rising tension was like a release in and of itself, the promise of perfect, complete relief.

He fucked me slowly, gently, sliding all the way inside me before withdrawing almost completely. My arms and shoulders shook as I struggled to hold myself up. I was so fucking turned on, aroused out of my goddamned mind, and the more he moved, the less I could keep myself from collapsing to the bed .

With his body weight, Anthony guided me down onto my stomach. He slid his arms under my chest and hooked his hands over my shoulders. With every stroke—every slow, smooth stroke—his chest brushed my back and his hot breath whispered across the side of my neck.

I thought he’d lose control and fuck me hard enough to knock incriminating groans out of the bed frame and me, but he didn’t. The bed stayed quiet, and the sheer intensity of his cock inside me rendered me completely mute.

His strokes stayed slow, so deliciously, agonizingly slow. He moved easily, fluidly, taking long strokes that each seemed to last all night. Uneven breaths rushed past my ear and whispered across my neck, and if not for his silence and slowness, I’d have been sure he was on the verge of losing control. And maybe he was, but his movements were smooth and even, and his ragged breaths stayed quiet. He was in control. Somehow he was in complete control, just as Anthony always was, even when his whole body shook and his rhythm tried to fall apart. Even if he’d hinted over the phone about cracks in the foundation, like his grasp on his usual control was alarmingly tenuous, he had it together now.

And whatever control I might have had was long gone. I had just enough left to keep myself from crying out as he fucked me to a blinding orgasm, and the world fell to pieces, and I fell to pieces, and Anthony didn’t stop.

“Oh God,” he breathed. “Jesse…” His voice dropped to a breathless, shuddering moan, and his whole body trembled as he forced himself as deep inside me as he could get. Whimpering softly, he buried his face against the side of my neck to stifle the helpless groan as he came.

He pulled out, but otherwise neither of us moved for a long, long time. Anthony rested his forehead on my shoulder, his sharp breaths cooling my skin, and I couldn’t say who shook more.

Eventually we got up and moved into the tiny, aged bathroom for a shower. It wasn’t until afterward, when we’d collapsed onto the hard, uneven bed again, that that undefined something in Anthony’s demeanor came back. As we lay in silence, it crept back in: his fingers slowed their caress on my shoulder. His gaze turned distant and unfocused. Faint crevices formed between his eyebrows. A long, heavy sigh.

“You never did tell me what was on your mind,” I said, not so sure I wanted to know. “You okay?”

“There’s…” He bit his lip and reached back to scratch his neck as if he just needed something for his hand to do. “I found out some incredibly infuriating things tonight. So I was pissed off, but I also felt guilty, so I needed…”

I ran my hand up and down his arm. “What happened? ”

He swallowed. “I’m used to being in control of a campaign,” he said. “I call the shots. I plan and approve the strategies. Nothing happens without my say-so. I’m not used to someone playing me as a pawn in my own game.”

My blood turned cold. “What do you mean?”

Anthony moistened his lips. Taking a deep breath, he met my eyes. “Roger has been pulling some strings.”

Something sank in the pit of my stomach. “How so?”

“Remember how he encouraged you to get Simone involved? Insisted she’d be all right?”

That something sank even deeper. “Yeah…”

Anthony swallowed hard and looked me in the eye. “He knew. He knew exactly what would happen to her. I mean, we were all afraid she would fall apart, and I know you’ve been scared to death she would from the beginning, but…”

Ice climbed up my spine to the base of my neck. “What are you getting at?” Deep down I knew, but I needed to hear him say it. Say it, Anthony. Fucking say it.

“It was deliberate,” he whispered. “Calculated. He knew she’d buckle, and he was counting on it.”

My jaw might have dropped just then if fury hadn’t had me clenching my teeth so tightly.

“He knew,” Anthony said. “And he knew that when she did, you’d respond exactly the way you did, and…” Closing his eyes, he released a breath.

“What?” Come on. Say it. All of it.

His Adam’s apple bobbed. “And the public would love it. And they’d love you. Something like this can win an election, and he…Roger was banking on it.”

“That…son of a…”

“No shit. That’s why he insisted on getting Simone involved from the start. He knew I wouldn’t push her if I knew she had emotional issues, but putting her front and center at the very beginning like he did meant we couldn’t back her out of the limelight without being conspicuous about it. I was pissed that he put your marriage in the spotlight like that, but if I’d known why…” Anthony shook his head and exhaled sharply. “I am so sorry, Jesse. I’ll do a lot to win an election, but not this. If I had known…”

“You didn’t know,” I said. “I can’t imagine anyone but Roger did.”

“I know. But I…” He ran a hand through his hair. “I feel like I should have. I should have at least figured out what this was doing to Simone, and…” He scowled. “I knew it was taking its toll on her.”

“We all did,” I said. “I just didn’t think…” So that was why Roger wanted my marriage under the microscope. I’d known he wanted my sexuality kept under wraps, and it didn’t take an idiot to figure out why, but I’d needed his ad vice to help me get elected, so I’d gone with it. When the election was over, then I could figure out what to do about coming out.

But this? Knowingly putting Simone out there so her inevitable collapse could score me some votes? Fuck, the very thought made me sick to my stomach. I could have killed him. If he’d been in the room with me now, I’d have decked him. Son of a bitch …

“Jesus.” I raked a hand through my hair. “I can’t believe I let him do this.”

“He’s good at this game,” Anthony said. “I should have known. And I swear, I would never knowingly allow something like this to happen with any candidate.” He trailed the backs of his fingers down my cheek. “But you…God, especially you…”

I touched his face. “I know you wouldn’t. To me or anyone else.”

“No, but especially you.” He met my eyes, and the intensity in his almost made me draw back. “And my God, I would never hurt Simone.” He winced. “On purpose, I mean. I think I’ve inadvertently hurt her more than enough.”

I flinched. “Yeah, me too.” I exhaled hard. “We can’t tell her about this. Any of it.”

Anthony nodded. “I know. And we can’t boot Roger off the campaign either.”

“Fuck, we can’t?”

He shook his head. “His endorsement was the foundation of the public’s trust in you. If there’s suddenly distance between your campaign and your uncle, people will wonder why, and they’ll doubt you. We’re too close to the election to recover from something like that. Too close for my comfort, anyway.”

“Great. Hopefully I can keep myself from killing him when—”

My cell phone vibrated on the bedside table and, a half second later, sprang to life with its usual ear-piercing melody. I closed my eyes and exhaled.

“You going to answer it?”

“No.” I blindly searched for his hand and, when I found it, laced our fingers together. “I really, really don’t want to talk to anyone else tonight.”

“Same here.” He glanced at the clock next to the bed and swore under his breath. “It’s late, though.” He faced me. “We shouldn’t stay here too much longer. One of us…one of us should go back soon.”

I nodded, using that as an excuse to lift my chin and find his lips with mine. We did need to leave soon, but that meant going back to a world that made less sense with each passing day, where people got hurt and stabbed each other in the back, and I needed to stay here a little longer. Everything in the cold confines of that luxury hotel could wait, because what I needed was here in the warmth of this seedy, no-name motel. We needed to leave but I kissed him anyway, and with a moan that might have been one of protest or surrender—maybe both—he returned it .

And all at once, he broke away but didn’t pull back very far. “We’re not getting any closer to leaving.”

“No, we’re not.” I trailed my fingertips down the middle of his back until he sucked in a breath through his teeth. “Can’t say I’m in much of a hurry.”

“But we should—”

“I know.”

“Jesse…”

“I don’t care,” I whispered. I hooked my leg over his and pulled him closer to me so he could feel my cock getting hard again. He was already rock hard, and we both shivered as his erection pressed against my hip.

“We’re going to be here all night at this rate,” he growled, but his protests didn’t carry much weight when he rolled me onto my back and kissed me hard, hungrily, violently, breaking away just long enough to murmur, “We shouldn’t do this.”

But his kiss was desperate, and his arms were in no more of a hurry to let me go than mine were to let him go. We didn’t have much time, but we had plenty of condoms, so to hell with it.

“Fuck me,” I whispered.

“Mmm, I fully intend to.” His stubbled jaw grazed my collarbone, and his warm breath made me shiver. “If we’re going to stay here longer than we should, we might as well make it count.”

Oh God…

He lifted himself off me and reached for the condoms.

In less than a minute, Anthony had on a condom and lube, and I was on my knees. From the first stroke, as he forced himself inside me—and oh, Christ , he felt amazing—I knew there wouldn’t be any holding back this time. No silence, no discretion, no giving a damn about anything except this. One careful stroke to make sure there was enough lube, and then he fucked me. He fucked me hard, he fucked me fast, he fucked me like he didn’t care if anyone knew he was fucking me, and I didn’t care either.

My eyes watered and my elbows shook. The bed creaked beneath us. The headboard smacked the wall. And I didn’t care. So we made noise. So someone might have heard us. I didn’t care because I had Anthony, and at least for tonight, there wasn’t a consequence in the world that mattered.

My cell phone rang again, breaking the not-silence with its intrusive ringtone. Anthony didn’t miss a beat. I might have assumed he didn’t even hear it at all if not for the fact that he fucked me just a little harder, like he needed to tell me, the phone, the universe he wasn’t stopping for anything. The phone went quiet, but we didn’t. It rang again and we didn’t stop and I didn’t care about anyone overhearing us.

Digging the heels of my hands into the bed, I slammed back against him and met him thrust for thrust. Anthony groaned and dug his fingers into my hips, fucking me right to the edge of what I could handle, and then his hand left my hip and he grabbed the back of my neck. His thumb and fingers bit in painfully, and I arched my neck into his hand, pressing against him because it didn’t hurt enough. He gripped my neck harder, fucked me as hard as I could take it, and a deep, primal growl emerged from his throat.

“Oh, God,” I moaned and rocked back against him and let go and cried out a string of profanity— don’t say his name, don’t say his name, don’t let anyone hear his name— and lost it.

Anthony didn’t hold back anymore either. He held my neck and hip painfully tight and thrust into me so hard it hurt, and then he let go of the most spine-tingling roar and came, his rhythm falling apart with every desperate stroke he tried to take as his orgasm took over.

Moments later, while the world still spun and I still hadn’t caught my breath, Anthony released me and pulled out. For the second time tonight, we dropped onto the bed together, breathless and sweaty. He got rid of the condom, then joined me again, and when we’d both cooled off enough to get close to each other without getting too hot, he pulled me into a long, lazy kiss. My neck and hip throbbed where he’d dug his fingers in, painful reminders of how badly we’d needed each other.

He drew back after a moment, meeting my eyes. My breath caught. Something else was in his expression now, something just as undefined and arguably more intense than before.

“Something wrong?” I asked.

And to my surprise, he smiled. “No. Nothing at all this time.” He slid his hand around the back of my neck, fingers drifting gently over the sore spots they’d left just minutes ago, and pulled me a little closer. “I love you, Jesse.”

He kissed me, and the words echoed in my mind.

I love you, Jesse.

My whole world was made up of politicians and actors, people who said things and meant the opposite, but I believed him. I trusted him. I loved him.

And when our lips separated, I whispered, “I love you too.”

He held my gaze for a moment, as if searching my expression for an act or some politician’s dishonesty. Then a faint but playful smile pulled up the corners of his mouth as he ran an unsteady hand down the side of my face.

“So much for keeping this from getting more complicated,” he said with a soft laugh.

I chuckled. “Well, you didn’t expect it to get any simpler, did you?”

He laughed again. “No. No, I definitely didn’t.”

“We’ll figure things out,” I said. “Somehow.”

His smile didn’t quite make it to his eyes this time, and as he leaned down to kiss me again, he said, “I hope so.”

So did I.

The missed calls on my cell phone were from Simone, but she didn’t leave any messages. By the time I left the seedy backwoods motel, my body aching and throbbing all over, it was way too late for me to call her back. I’d have to catch up with her in the morning.

I parked Ranya’s car behind the hotel and made a discreet entrance through the side, avoiding the lobby at all costs. Not that I expected it to be crowded right now, but all it took was one bored desk clerk to start whispering about Jesse Cameron sneaking back in at all hours of the night.

The elevator required walking past the potentially bored desk clerks, so I took the stairs. My back and hips twinged with every step, but I just grinned to myself. I’d be sore as hell tomorrow. Every move I made would remind me, as it did now, of everything Anthony had done tonight. Goose bumps prickled my arms and back as I continued up the stairs. In spite of the conversations we’d had, the revelations about my son-of-a-bitch uncle, all I could think about was the sex. The amazing, painful, perfect sex that we’d both needed like never before.

“I love you, Jesse.” Anthony’s whispered words echoed in my ears, and my idiotic smile broadened. How long had it been since I’d felt this way about someone? Had I ever felt this way about anyone? Didn’t matter. I felt this way now, that was for damn sure.

I stopped at one of the landings and realized that, in my mental haze, I’d gone right past my floor and continued up to the next one. Shaking my head, I turned around and went back down.

Tired, distracted, and aching, I somehow remembered which room was mine and found the card key in my pocket. I swiped the key, and when the LED turned green, pushed open the door.

The light was on. Simone? Awake at this hour? That was unusual.

So was her tense posture and pointed glare when I stepped into the room. She sat cross-legged on the bed, hands folded in her lap and her eyes colder than I’d ever seen them.

“Enjoy yourselves?” The venom in her tone raised the hairs on the back of my neck.

I cleared my throat. “I…” Fuck, what did I say?

She folded her arms across her chest and fidgeted, the movements taut like she was merely redistributing the fury that was a breath away from coming out.

I swallowed hard. “Is there—”

“I’m not blind, Jesse,” she said. “You think you’re all slick and subtle, but come on. You don’t think I knew where you were tonight?”

I gritted my teeth. “Look, he asked me to meet him so we could talk about— ”

“Talk?” She threw her head back and laughed. “Oh my fucking God. Really, Jess? Really? You think I’m going to buy that?” She narrowed her eyes. “And I suppose you had a nice heart-to-heart, did you? Naked in bed, I’m sure.”

I flinched and looked away.

“That’s what I thought.”

“What do you want me to say?” I threw up my hands. “I’m sorry, Simone. For everything, I—”

“You’re always fucking sorry, Jesse.” She shook her head and made a disgusted noise. “God, why don’t you just bring him in here and fuck him while I watch? You’re already rubbing my nose in it, so why not go all the goddamned way?”

“Why do you think we went someplace else?” I crossed the room and dropped my wallet and Ranya’s keys on the table. “I don’t want to throw it in your face.”

“And sneaking off late at night, coming in at four in the morning, that’s your idea of being discreet?” She stood and pointed at the door. “You don’t think there’s a dozen paparazzi out there who saw you come creeping in, and will have all kinds of shit to say about it tomorrow? Do you have any idea how humiliating it is to have everyone asking me left and right if you’re cheating, especially when they all have that look in their eyes that says they know you’re fucking someone else and think I’m just some na?ve idiot wife who can’t tell when her man’s running around?”

“You encouraged me to get involved with him.”

“So this is my fault?” Her voice rose. Oh fuck, this was going to turn into a shouting match.

Keeping my voice low to counter hers, I said, “No, it’s not. But for all I’ve asked you, time and again, if you have a problem with it, you’ve insisted you don’t. You practically threw me at him the night I met him.”

“What was I supposed to do?” she screeched and took a step toward me, eyes narrow with rage. “I saw the way you were looking at him. Was I supposed to tell you to stay away from him? I don’t have any claim to you anymore, so I—”

“But if it bothered you,” I snapped before I could stop myself, “then why didn’t you say something?”

“What difference would it have made? Honestly, Jesse.” Her eyes narrowed. “You were done with me. And now? Now I’m done with you.”

I drew back.

“I have nothing to lose,” she snarled. “Not a goddamned thing. Give me a reason why I shouldn’t walk out of this room”—she pointed sharply at the door again—“and blow this all open for the media. Because the way I see it, I’m being called an attention whore and a cheating slut and all manner of other shit, and you know what? I’m gaining nothing through this, and I have nothing to lose.”

I swallowed. Deep down I knew Simone, and I knew this wasn’t her. She’d have maintained this happy wife charade for me if it put her in the grave, even if I begged her not to. But when she was this upset, when rational thought deserted her and left her in this kind of near-blind fury, anything was possible. And could I begrudge her one little bit if she called a press conference or put up a billboard or just shouted it from the rooftops that my entire campaign centered around a fraudulent front?

“Simone,” I said quietly. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

“What do I want you to do?” She waved a hand, knocking a vase off the table. It crashed to the floor, but neither of us looked at it or moved to pick it up. “What the fuck do you think I want, Jesse?”

“Tell me, then,” I threw back just as loudly. “I’ve asked repeatedly. I’ve tried, for fuck’s sake. But if you don’t tell me, then—”

“I want you to act like you care about something besides getting elected to—”

“What? You honestly think all I care about is the election?”

“Of course that’s all you care about,” she snarled. “If you gave a fuck about me, you’d divorce me and let me move on instead of keeping up this bullshit act. You’re not the only one involved in this, Jesse.”

“I know, but you agreed to this. You knew going into this that—”

“And I didn’t know what I was really getting into, did I?” She put up a hand as if to tell me not to bother responding. “I’m going to pack my things and get the fuck out of here.” She wasn’t shouting anymore, but her anger hadn’t cooled in the slightest. “I need to…just go home for a while.”

I nodded. “Okay. Whatever you need to do.” I immediately regretted my snide tone and sighed. “Simone, I’m sorry. It’s—”

“You’re always sorry,” she hissed. She turned away from me and stepped around the vase. As she snatched a suitcase off the floor, I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

“Do you need any help?” I asked quietly.

“No.”

While she shoved things into her suitcase, I changed into my swimming trunks, grabbed a towel and goggles, and went down to the pool. She needed to be alone. I needed to get my mind off everything. A swim was the nearest escape, so I took it.

On the way down the hall, I kept my head down, avoiding the stares of people who peeked out of their rooms and whispered to one another. We weren’t the first couple to have a loud, early morning fight in a hotel. Maybe the first who’d told the universe what a solid, happy couple we were and placed ourselves under a microscope before having such a blazing argument, but still .

Were there always paparazzi in hotel lobbies this early? Lurking behind cameras and making shitty attempts at stealth as they followed me toward the pool? Maybe, maybe not. They were here this morning, though. Maybe four or five of them, all keeping a distance that was no doubt compensated for with their arm-length telephoto lenses.

Let them watch. Let them take their pictures and speculate about the noise that had come from the room my wife and I shared. Let them read what wasn’t there and what was there.

I just dove in and tried not to think about how much I’d hurt my wife.