Power Switch (Power Play #3) - Kennedy L. Mitchell Page 0,87
“Not sure, I will get someone on it today. What you are needing is specific, something that is indisputable, not just vague emails or conversations. You will need pictures, recordings, proof he now knows what he has stepped into and how it all started.”
“Yeah, it's a lot.” Walking toward Vlad, she extends her hand. After a quick shake, she steps back. “Thank you. For everything. I appreciate your help.”
The Russian’s facial expression morphs to more contemplative as he looks Randi over. “It is an honor, Madam VP. One day soon you will return the favor, I am sure.”
With that, he turns and strides toward the SUVs they evacuated less than thirty minutes ago.
“I love the way they handle meetings,” I say, stepping to Randi's side. She angles her face up to mine with a questioning look. “In and out. Get what you need done, say what needs to be said, and bounce. If all politicians did that, maybe they'd get more done.”
She smirks and nods. Turning her attention to the retreating SUVs, she blows out a slow breath.
“I think that went well.”
“Agreed. Now, why did you ask me to step away?”
Instead of responding, Randi takes a cautious step to the side and starts to walk away. I follow close behind, having nothing to do with safety and everything to do with getting answers.
For a few steps, she says nothing, eyes to the ground watching the grass bend beneath her Uggs.
“If we're going to do this, you and me, us, we need to be honest with each other.” Reaching out, she takes my hand in hers, lacing our fingers together and giving a quick squeeze. “No more surprises, no more committing to things that affect this relationship without the other one's consent.” Hazel eyes slide to meet mine. “Okay?”
I nod, not understanding what she's getting at. Okay, yeah, I made a bad decision not telling her about the agreement I made with my parents for her to win the Senate and defeat the bill, but I thought we were past that misstep.
“Is there anything you want to tell me, Trey?”
I search her face, trying to figure out what she's referring to.
“Um, I guess Jessica's been more of a handful lately.” Randi's dark brows bolt up her forehead. “I'm not sure what's gotten into her, but it's fine. Nothing I can't handle and keep pushing back on.” I think back through the past few months. “My mother is pushing me to set a date for a true engagement party, one that will be thrown by her and Jessica's mother.” I feel the deep line form between my brows. “I snuck a cigarette last week.” Raising my shoulders, I press my lips together and give her my best “not sure what you're looking for” look.
A quick breeze sends her dark hair floating across her face. After tucking it behind her ear, she turns and starts walking again.
“Good to know about Jessica and your mom. Hopefully we can get all this wrapped up before you have to commit to a date for the engagement party.” Those last two words are said with bitterness engulfing her tone. “And the cigarette, fine, that means I get to sneak one too. What else, Trouble?”
“Just tell me what you're looking for, Mess, and I'll tell you, but I honestly have no idea what you're wanting me to say.”
“T told me about your plan.”
“My plan to… what? Need to be more specific here. I have a lot of crazy plans that I toss out to him but never come to fruition.”
“About going back to that evil woman who birthed you and digging yourself deeper into her fucked-up plot to take over the world all to learn how Shawn is still getting to me.” Her tone is angry, and a dash of hurt bleeds through with each word.
I pull to a stop, tugging on her hand for her to pause too. With another sharp tug, I tuck her against my chest and rest my chin on top of her head. I love holding her like this. Feeling her small frame wrapped in mine. Protecting her from anything that would cause her harm. But doesn’t she see that's exactly what I'm trying to do with going back to Mother for answers? Everything is for her.
“Ah, that plan,” I try to joke as I take a deep inhale of her cherry-and-vanilla-scented hair.
“Yeah, that one,” she grumbles into my chest, tickling the skin beneath my Dryfit T-shirt.