“It was hot inside. I needed air.” I mumble.
“And he just happened to need air at the same time?”
Now she’s just torturing me.
“Coincidence.”
“Of course.” She nods, smiling huge, completely unconvinced. “The way you came back with your hair mussed and your lipstick gone, total coincidence.”
SHIT.
I open my mouth. Close it. Open it again.
Simone holds up a hand. “I’m not asking. I don’t want to know. Plausible deniability.” She’s grinning HUGE. “I will say, though, if youweregoing to have a scandalous affair in your final months in office? You should definitely pick a retired pro athlete turned international coach. And those shoulders?” She fans herself.
I stare with my mouth open.
Simone just turns back to her tablet, still smirking. “Your two o’clock, ma’am.”
* * *
The text comes at 9:47 PM.
I’m in the residence, pretending to read a briefing document, when my personal phone buzzes.
Unknown number.
‘I haven’t stopped thinking about last night.’
My heart slams against my ribs.
How the hell did he get my number?!
Another text comes through before I can spiral:
‘Simone is very helpful, by the way. I like her.’
I’m going to kill Simone.
But first, I’m going to respond to this man.
‘You shouldn’t have this number.’
His reply is immediate.
‘And yet here we are.’
‘This is a secure line.’
‘Then I guess our secrets are safe.’
I stare at the screen, my thumbs hovering over the keyboard.
Don’t respond. Don’t encourage this. You’re almost at the end of your last term. He’s a distraction you can’t afford.
I type back:‘What secrets?’
‘The part where we kissed until we were both shaking’
