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“I’m up for reelection in November. My team has been running a good campaign, but with my background, the blue-collar vote is always a struggle. Polls show that it is lower than last election, and the race between my opponent and me is tight. That’s where you come in.”
I sat there, my hands in my lap, completely lost. “I don’t know what you think I can do, but politics aren’t my thing. I have no desire—”
“I disagree. In fact, if memory serves correctly…” he ran two fingers along his jaw, “you have quite a desire for politics. Or perhaps just politicians?”
My skin couldn’t have been hotter if it had actually been on fire. There was a flicker in those dark eyes that reminded me of the honesty from that night. How his mouth had worked mine, and all that strength wrapped around me. But the flicker disappeared quickly.
“Your mother is a school teacher, your father an Army vet turned electrician, and your only sister died of a drug overdose her senior year of high school.” He spoke as if he were reading a dossier on my life, which he probably had. Because this kind of information took a bit of digging. “You were brought up in a solid middle-class family and now work for a nonprofit nobly providing the lower class with addiction rehabilitation programs.”
That’s when it hit me. It was the truth, just as he’d promised a week ago. But the truth hurt.
“You want to use me to boost your numbers, your reputation,” I breathed.
“The arrangement I propose isn’t just to benefit me.”
“What arrangement would that be?” I snapped, hating everything about this moment. Tonight was supposed to be so different. Roman was supposed to be different.
“A relationship arrangement,” he said.
My throat closed up a little. “You can’t be serious.”
He nodded. “You want that rehab built and your little Midwest name all over it, and I want the blue-collar vote. You on my arm at various events will elicit that. Show I am a man of the people.”
“But you’re not,” I grated between my teeth.
Something dark flashed in his eyes. “Don’t assume you know who I am or what has molded me. I understand more than you think, Miss Underwood.”
There! A glimmer of the man I’d seen last week—sadness and darkness behind his eyes showing just a hint of vulnerability. But it was washed away with his next rough words.
“I can put your project on the budget proposal, and you can be with me for the next two months. When I win the election, I’ll launch an anti-drug campaign with New Beginnings as the spearhead organization.”
“You mean, if you win.”
His jaw tightened. “All the more incentive for you to help me do so. Because if I don’t, then I guarantee no other governor, or any other state official, will push to get funding or exposure for your little center.”
Remembering how House Representative Miller had treated me at the gala made the rough truth of Roman’s words sting. Breathing was nothing more than a wish at this point. Every time I tried, air just stuck to the inside of my mouth, refusing to come out. His offer was a good one, in theory, but an arrangement all the same. The kind that is surface based, breaks hearts, and uses others. Could I really put myself through that again? This time knowingly?
“After the election,” he continued, “we go our separate ways, with the residual benefits to be had by both parties involved.”
“Why me?” I asked, grasping at any loophole in this scheme. “There are other women with spotless backgrounds who I’m sure you can call on.”
He nodded. “Yes. But you have an innocence.”
The words cut me deep. It wasn’t a compliment, it was the recognition of a trait. Something that he, like Warren, could exploit. It didn’t matter that I felt used, discarded, and about as far removed from innocent as possible. Innocence was what he perceived.
“Besides,” he shrugged. “You fooled me. If you can do that, you should have no problem fooling the people of New York.”
I shook my head. In his mind, I was trapped somewhere between ingenue and liar.
“I won’t sleep with you,” I stated.
“Rest assured, sweetheart, that if you and I end up in bed, we’ll be fucking, not sleeping.” He tugged at his cuffs. “But this is not a sexual arrangement.” His penetrating gaze slid over me. “Unless you want it to be.”
He paused to flash a megawatt smile that nearly made me lose my mind and my panties in one swoop. Gritting my teeth, I internally cursed my body for responding to him. “To the world beyond us, we will appear as a couple. This is an upfront, honest exchange of services. We’re using our strengths to gain better access to what we want. Sex isn’t part of this agreement. That is a situation that, should it happen, will be because you want it to, and it will have no bearing on this disposition.”
Tingling warmth shot up my back. There was something about Roman that had me so off-kilter. Just the thought of sex with him made part of me tremble, wondering what it’d be like. Wanting to find out. The other part of me didn’t give too much weight to this notion, because in the end, he assumed I was using him.
I glanced at my lap and refused to think of Warren. How he had used me in this same way, and how little it had mattered—how little I had mattered. At least Roman was upfront with his intentions, instead of blindsiding me. Fooling me into thinking I was more than a convenience.
