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“Well, why don’t I go and make you a coffee while you take a shower?”
“I would rather you in the shower with me?” I say, running my hands across her body.
“Yes, but then you will be late, and some people will see that as disrespectful, and I don’t want to be the reason your approval rating starts to slip…” I know she is right. I know that I need to keep my eye on the prize. But I find it increasingly hard to move my eyes off her.
“We have only a few weeks to go…” I say, leaving the timeframe out there, because once I win governor, I plan on making our relationship public.
“I know…” she whispers, the weight of time heavy on our minds.
“Go!” she says, playfully shoving me while smiling, and I need to make a conscious effort to get out of bed, rather than pull her up with me. Begrudgingly, I sulk to the bathroom, and start the shower, watching her naked body walk around my bedroom before she sheaths it in my white shirt, looking like every man's wet dream.
27
BETH
Iwalk around naked and slip on Harrison's white shirt, the material feeling like the warm protective hug I need, his scent wrapping me up tight, but I am still jumpy with every rumble I hear. This storm has been active for hours, and I need to call and check in with Dad to let him know I am okay. He stayed with Larry last night, so at least he is with people.
He is aware I am spending time with Harrison. No doubt he became suspicious due to my constant smile and daydreamy eyes. Dad doesn’t say much, but I know that the two of them are growing closer as well, as Harrison’s trip to the community center did wonders for their relationship.
I quickly tidy Harrison’s room, because with our clothes strewn everywhere and the bed unmade, it looks like a bomb went off, before I pad down to his kitchen and come to a halt.
It is like nothing I have encountered before and takes my breath away every time I see it. Large, with streamlined cabinetry, black, glossy without even a fingerprint anywhere. The black marble benchtops are free of clutter. He has about five different appliances that all look like ovens and a massive refrigerator that looks like it is from the movies.
Stepping inside, I walk quickly into his butler’s pantry, which really, is just another kitchen but hidden. Setting up the coffee machine, I get busy putting together a coffee for the both of us, and even though it looks highly technical, it is relatively easy to use.
As I froth the milk, I think I hear a bell chime. My eyes flick to the oven, then the dishwasher, but both are off, and seeing nothing else, I turn my attention back to the job at hand. Smiling to myself, feeling the post sex flush, I finish the cups and walk back into the main kitchen, my dreamlike state at being with a man like Harrison firmly planted on my face.
“What the hell are you doing?” I hear a high-pitched shriek, and I jump, the coffee cups splashing the boiling hot coffee onto my hands and the pain shoots up my arms. The cups fall from my grip, smashing all over the clean polished floors. Harrison’s pristine kitchen now totally in shambles. Because of me.
You can’t have nice things. You ruin everything.
“What the hell are you doing here?” the screech of Mrs. Rothschild hits me from across the breakfast bar. She is dressed in her signature matching Chanel tweed suit. Her handbag and shoes match, both designer, and her hair is perfectly quaffed. Even though her makeup is perfectly done, her bright red lips shining, her eyes are squinting at me like I am the devil. In contrast, I am naked except for her son’s business shirt, my hair is a mess, and I am pretty sure Harrison left love bites on my neck last night.
“Mrs. Rothschild!” I exclaim in shock, trying to push the pain in my hands out of my mind because now I can’t move my legs. Shattered porcelain scatters around my bare feet, so I couldn’t make it to the sink without tearing them up. I breathe through the pain, hoping like hell I don’t get blisters on my hands.
“I knew you were trouble the moment I laid eyes on you. And here you are, the latest tramp in my son's quest to bed all the women in the city. I guess he flashed his smile at you, and you just laid down and opened your legs like the little slut you are!” Her words are like venom, and I am taken aback by her ferocity.
“Mrs. Rothschild, it isn’t like that...” I stutter, feeling like a lamb headed to the slaughter.
“You fuck my son, expecting to get his millions, is that it? You are nothing but a piece of shit on his shoes. He is going to be governor. You are nothing. A nobody.”
“But, Mrs. Rothschild, I am not…” I again start to try to explain that I am not just some one-night stand, but she cuts me off.
“Do not talk to me. Clean up this disgusting mess and put some goddamn clothes on. And a word of advice before I go…” she says, taking a step toward me, and I can hardly breathe as I wait.
“Make no mistake, Beth, the event planner…” she spits out my name like it is poison.
“You are not good enough for my son and never will be. So get your fat ass out of here and don’t come back,” she seethes, and I look at her, wide-eyed, shocked at her display of hatred against me, when she doesn’t know anything about me.
I stand still, watching her as she throws her shoulders back and walks into the lift. I remain frozen until the doors close on the image of her and she is gone.
My heart is racing from the confrontation, and almost breaking at the situation. My feelings for Harrison are unlike I have ever felt before, and the bubble I have been living in with him was just popped by her words. The pain from the hot coffee sears into my hands, bringing me back to reality. With no other option, I step toward the sink, cursing under my breath as the sharp shards of porcelain penetrate my feet. I make it within a few steps and hurriedly turn on the cold taps and immediately push my hands underneath. Sighing as the water takes away some of the pain.
“Beth? Shit, what happened?” Harrison says as he steps around the corner in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. Water running down his torso.
“I just dropped the coffee. I’m so sorry, Harrison,” I say on a whisper, the events of the morning now making my eyes water.
“I don’t care about the mess, baby. Are you okay?” he says as he walks toward me with concern etched into his face.
