his money while shagging the pool boy. She deserves it for putting up with this wanker.
I pick up my martini and pretend to take a sip. “My boss purchased a seat but something came up at the last minute. He begged me to change my plans and fill in.”
Nodding, he bows his head like some regal gentleman from a romance novel. Idiotic and full of himself. “Well, I am the keynote tonight. I hope I don’t disappoint you.”
I run the tip of my finger around the rim of my glass. “My hopes are high, Senator.”
“Vodka tonic, sir.”
Again, no manners from the lying, cheating American, so I turn to the young bartender. “Thank you.”
Randolph picks up the highball but doesn’t take his eyes off me. “No need for formalities. It’s Charles—I insist.”
I smile before pulling my bottom lip between the tips of my teeth, pausing. His response is to lean into the bar and run a fingertip down my forearm.
Lord have mercy, anyone who falls for this must have rocks banging around their skulls.
“Charles, it is,” I agree.
“Who do you work for? I might know your boss.”
Before I have a chance to think up a quick answer, I hear a familiar gruff voice behind me. “Hey, man. I’ll take a whiskey. Neat. Whatever you’ve got will do.”
What in the hell?
This is not having eyes on me from across the ballroom.
The friendly bartender reaches for a bottle. “Bad day?”
I can’t see him but I can feel him—heat radiating off his classic tux. He proceeds to slap his hand on the bar, with a bill, no doubt. “It’s been an interesting couple of weeks, that’s for sure.”
I ignore my American who has a lack of understanding for boundaries in any way, shape, or form, because I’ve lost the senator’s attention. He’s zeroed in on something over my shoulder.
“Charles—”
He takes an aggressive gulp of his cocktail and his demeanor changes when his eyes land back on me. “Kim, I’d love to hear about your job, but unfortunately, I see someone I need to speak with. Trust me, if it weren’t urgent, I’d never leave. Please find me after my speech. I want to get your contact information so we can continue our conversation very soon.”
“Of course.” I smile and do my best to allow my assets to speak for themselves because I need his attention to have any chance at getting close to him. “Break a leg. Or is that only said in Hollywood?”
His expression relaxes a bit and he leans so his lips brush my wig next to my ear. “You can say whatever you want, honey.”
I giggle because it seems to be what females with marbles for brains would do when a married man calls them honey. “All of a sudden, I’m very interested in sea turtles. I’ll see you at the end of the evening, Charles.”
He touches me again, this time across my midriff, right below the plunge of my neckline. Then he disappears into the room of black tuxes and smart cocktail dresses that are nothing like the gown I’m donning.
“Make it a double,” Cole demands from behind me where it’s getting hotter by the nanosecond.
I turn to the bartender. “Please. I swear, men have no manners.” I turn to Cole for the first time since I’ve walked into the ballroom. His dark eyes have turned the color of smoldering coal about ready to burst into a pile of flames. “Tip him well—he deserves it for having to put up with demanding, thirsty imbeciles.”
With my martini in one hand and my loaded clutch in the other, I leave my tail where he belongs so I can do my job. I need to know what was so important that Randolph ignored his carnal desires and walked away from me.
Chapter 15
Rage
Cole
This is harder than I remember.
But it’s how Bella works. She could charm the rust off my dad’s garage sale lawn mower and is gorgeous enough to draw attention from three counties over. I knew how tonight was going to go, but damn. They say time makes the heart grow fonder but it’s not the case with me. Right now, I’m not feeling fond what-so-fucking-ever.
Rage.
It’s jackhammering in my chest and might be what does me in. Who knew years of working covert cases in the most militant areas of the world would be nothing compared to watching Bella work a room after all this time?
I’m obviously no romantic because time has only created a wrath inside me that’s itching to claw its