One of Us Is Dead(9)

“I don’t care. Do not give those trucks any hassle,” he said, ending the call abruptly. He tossed the phone on his desk, and his face lit up when his eyes met mine.

“I brought you lunch.” I smiled as he made his way around the desk. He returned my smile with a passionate kiss. His hands pressed on my lower back, sliding down, grabbing at my butt, making their way under my sundress. I gave a laugh and kissed him harder. He pulled back, straightening himself and returning to his side of the desk.

“No other woman makes me lose control like you, Crystal.” He winked at me and took a seat, diving into his sandwich. He was famished. Always focused on the job.

“I’m glad I have that effect on you, Mr. Madison.” I blushed.

He pressed a button on his desk phone. “Bring me a water,” Bryce commanded to his secretary. Moments later she entered with two bottles of water, one for me and one for Bryce. I thanked her. Bryce didn’t. I reminded myself to give him grief later. I understood he was busy, stressed, and tired, but I was raised to know there was no such thing as being too busy, too tired, or too stressed for manners.

“How did it go with the ladies, Mrs. Madison?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Fine.” I wanted to leave it at that, but I knew he’d press for more. Bryce was that type of man—he always wanted more. He needed so badly for me to get along and fit in with them. It was all about repairing his image and enhancing mine. I understood, I guess. It was the life I chose. I knew there’d be sacrifices.

“And . . . ?”

“I like Karen,” I said.

“Good. She and her husband contribute a modest amount to the campaign, and she’s a good person to know. Her luxury real estate firm helped make this here office a reality. What about Olivia?”

“She’s . . . fine.”

He tossed his sandwich on the desk. “Please be straight with me.”

“I didn’t get much of a chance to really know her, I suppose. She stormed off in the middle of lunch after getting in a tiff with Karen about Shannon. And then she sent an apology text like two minutes later, which was rather odd. So, if I had to give you an opinion right now, I’d say I’m not a fan.” I crossed my arms over my chest.

“You have to give her a chance. Her husband is a huge contributor, and Olivia has a lot of influence in this town. I heard she’s the new chairwoman of the Buckhead Women’s Foundation. You’d do well to keep her close.”

“Would I do well, or would you do well?” I cocked my head.

“We’d do well,” Bryce said, getting up from his chair. He walked over to me and raised my chin with his hand, locking eyes with me. In one fell swoop, he picked me up and put me on the desk, parting my knees with his waist. He kissed me hard—so hard that I didn’t even notice his pants were undone and my panties were pushed aside. Bryce was a passionate man in everything he did, including me. I knew what got him off: control, power, dominance. I knew it the moment he walked into my bar. It looked as though he had a hanger in his suit jacket, that’s how high his shoulders were raised. He had flashed that smile of his, not in a courteous way, but like it was a mini advertisement for himself, the five-second ad before a YouTube video. And when he took a seat at the bar, it was as if he had bowed rather than sat down. The hundred-dollar bill he set on the bar was strategic. The Macallan Rare Cask single malt scotch whiskey he ordered wasn’t one he had a taste for. It was one he ordered to show that life had a taste for him. We tend to gravitate toward people like Bryce, people that seem untouchable, like nothing bad could ever happen to them. Like the world exists because they’re in it, and not the other way around.

“I’m going to make you scream,” Bryce panted as he entered me. We’re both inside each other now but in different ways. I swallowed my screams and became breathless, while Bryce rocked fiercely, back and forth. I let him do me fast and hard because Bryce liked everything that way: sex, business, life itself. I knew what he wanted, what he needed, and I gave it to him. People that get their way think they’re the ones in control. But the ones that give are the ones that rule. It’s not the politician in office, but the donor behind the check that wields the sword.

After he was done, he circled back to the conversation I wasn’t keen on having. He zipped up his pants and pulled me into a sitting position. “So, you’ll give them a chance?”

I resituated my panties, hopped off the desk, and pulled down my dress. “I guess.” I shrugged my shoulders.

Bryce brought his fingers to his temples and rubbed them as if I had suddenly caused a headache. He was always so dramatic about getting his way. It was why he had fared well in politics.

“I will,” I said. “I’ll make nice. I’ll fit in. I’ll be their best goddamn friend if that’s what you want.”

His hands fell to his side. His headache was magically cured. He walked to me and kissed me on the cheek. “Perfect. You’ll want to join that committee. Perhaps, run for vice-chair too. And that salon they all go to on Peach Street. You’ll want to become a client. They’re there all the time, and it’s the perfect way to bond and fit in quickly.” He smiled.

“I’ll never get into that salon. Karen said there’s a waiting list.” I put my hands on my hips. I was relieved, too, when Karen told me there was a wait list. I’d rather spend my time outdoors or reading—not gossiping in a salon with women I barely knew. Like I said, I knew there’d be sacrifices with my life with Bryce, but I didn’t think socializing with catty, middle-aged women would be one of them. This world wasn’t one I was familiar with, but it was one I knew I could learn to live in and live in well.