Page 1 of The Politician

Prologue

SHE STARED BEYOND THEglistening white slopes into the deep blue. It wasn’t the descending sun that caused Sarah’s cheeks to tingle but the chill that was starting to set in. A gust of wind whipped up the untouched powdery snow as she made her way towards the start of her final run for the day. This was Verbier, the backside of Mont Fort, with a panoramic view over some of the most spectacular peaks bordering Switzerland and France. It was her favourite place for her one week away from the stresses of work and family, and a week living in obscurity. While she always felt a twinge of guilt being away from her children, she needed the break for her sanity.

She’d watched the sun rise in the warmth of her cabin that morning, while drinking rich hot chocolate and eating her favourite breakfast of a fried egg sandwich. The breeze had steadily increased during the day, perhaps saving itself for her final run. The thrill of finishing the day with the toughest challenge had never lost its appeal in all the years she’d skied. Even as a child, she’d pushed and pleaded for one final run. Do or die, she thought of it then. Now, it was a peak moment, a final test of her tenacity.

She’d traversed these slopes under worse conditions, so she was ready for the moguls and the kiss of ice she might encounter. Glancing down the sheer drop, her heart thundered. Après ski called to her. She squinted from the glare of the snow and pulled her goggles over her eyes. The shield relaxed her focus. Orienting herself and imagining the route down that she’d taken many times before, she took three deep breaths and thrust the skis forwards.

She carved a route through the powder. The wind whipped around her jacket and whooshed past her ears. She started to track the skier who had joined the slope ahead of her. She’d seen the same red hat on a woman on the ski lift earlier. She looked competent enough, but with this breeze and the deceptively blue skies that could give the impression the route was a walk in the park, someone less skilled could easily underestimate the conditions. Not every skier was diligent. Risks had to be calculated. And calculating risk was something Sarah had achieved an excellent level of proficiency at working in politics.

She turned into the slope and cut past a mogul to her left, bringing her closer to the rockface but still in sight of the skier below her. A white spray coated her arms and for a moment, clouded her vision. She swung right and gained speed until she caught sight of the hat moving below. She crouched lower and drove on faster, cutting tighter turns, sparked by the challenge and intent on getting to the base first. If this was the woman with stunning blue eyes and beautiful smile who had caught her eye earlier, maybe she would invite her for a drink afterwards.

Surrounded by snow and rock, Sarah skied deeper into the slope and the sun slid from view. She glanced across to see a ski fly into the air and the red hat skidded across the snow. Her heart raced, and she turned towards the felled skier. The woman stood as Sarah approached and brushed herself down. Sarah pulled up, lifted her goggles, and squinted as the woman reclaimed her ski. She was moving okay so had clearly taken the fall well. Sarah smiled and held back a chuckle at the woman’s exasperated expression. “All good?” she asked.

The woman shook the snow from her hat and raised her goggles. “Sure. Nothing more frustrating than a rookie error.”

Sarah laughed. This woman was no rookie. “Yep. Focuses the attention.”

The woman snapped her boot into her ski and brushed the snow from her jacket. “Thanks for checking.”

“Would you like to get a drink when we get to the bottom?”

The woman narrowed her eyes then smiled. “Sure. I’ll need something to soothe my bruised ego.”

“I’ll follow you down,” Sarah said and lowered her goggles.

“Covering my ass in case I fall again.” The woman launched herself forwards and gathered speed quickly.

Something told Sarah she wouldn’t make the same rookie error twice. She turned down the slope, her urge to compete replaced by a desire for something entirely different. The anticipation of having sex with a stranger was as enticing as the thought of tackling the most dangerous slopes in the world. Her husband, Mark, would applaud her for being herself. It was how they rolled. He did his thing, she did hers, and they never compromised their fifteen-year-old twins. She would return to London energized and better able to take on the demands of her career. She might even be a better mother for a few weeks. She could never be a better wife though, and he never asked her to be.

“My name’s Brook,” the woman said as they removed their jackets and boots.

“Sarah.”

Brook’s hand was warmer than hers, and they stayed connected a fraction longer than normal etiquette dictated. It was one of the indicators that Sarah’s gaydar was highly attuned to. The other was the way someone looked into her eyes. “It’s good to meet you,” she said, and Brook’s gaze lingered.

“You ready for that drink?” Brook asked.

“You bet.” Sarah studied her tight backside and strong legs as they wandered into the bar. “This has been my motivation all day,” she said.

“The heat or the drink?”

Sarah rubbed her hands together, the burn in her cheeks an accolade for her day’s efforts. Her well-exercised muscles could certainly benefit from a massage, but she would get one of those later. Perhaps Brook would like one too. She had strong hands, and Sarah imagined her touch. She cleared her throat. “Both. What can I get you?”

“A rum hot chocolate, thanks.”

Sarah took a seat at the bar and smiled at the bartender drying glasses. “Two rum hot chocolates, please.”

“Coming right up.”

He sounded as British as she did. He was probably a student who dreamed of becoming a famous snowboarder. He would probably end up an instructor if anything. To be the best in any field was tough and that’s why very few people made it. It was that same seed of doubt that caused Sarah to push as hard as she did, to give herself the best chance at becoming the Prime Minister in what was still an environment riddled with prejudice. She tried to appear patient as he carefully and slowly prepared the drinks.

The silence between strangers could be a little awkward, but Sarah didn’t sense any tension with Brook. “Did you have a good day?” she asked.

“It was okay. You?”

Sarah nodded. “I’m heading over to Tortin tomorrow, weather permitting. Do you want to join me?”

“You’ve skied it before?”

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