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I snorted, shaking my head. “Maybe in 1950, but not now. People don’t want to see polished perfection. It makes them uncomfortable.”
Despite what we all wanted to believe, New York was changing. That change was what allowed me to go after Marco Blanchi. A decade ago, his father ran this town from his high-rise. He’d pretended to be an upstanding businessman, a shipping mogul, but he’d really been a thug. He’d grease a few palms and people would look the other way when his war with the Russians spilled out into the streets.
But now, the world was different. The recession had opened people’s eyes to the hypocrisy of the wealthy. That was something I’d have to fight against already. My last name might be Wright, but my mother’s family would serve as an albatross around my neck. If I added a Manhattan socialite to my arm, I knew I could kiss my political career goodbye.
“What do you have in mind to solve our problem though? We need your playboying seem like a thing of the past. You running through singles in sequin minis isn’t an option.”
I rolled my eyes. “You make it sound like I fuck anything that moved.”
“Because you do.”
I wanted to argue with Marcel and remind him that I was incredibly picky about the women I took to bed, but it was no use. He didn’t care what I did, or who I did it with, unless it effected his winning streak. He was the only person I knew who enjoyed winning more than I did.
“There’s a new girl in the office.”
“No,” Marcel interrupted, not even giving me a chance to speak. “Absolutely not.”
“Hear me out,” I implored.
I couldn’t see my friend over the phone, but I could practically feel him shaking his head. “A workplace romance is a no go. First, my office won’t be able to vet her, and I’m not comfortable with unknown agents running around. Second, after the last governor, we definitely can’t make something like this work for us.”
“Normally, I’d agree with you,” I said. It was the truth. I kept a very strict distance between my personal life and my work. Hell, I didn’t even allow my family to come to the few work events I had had over the years, including my swearing in. “But this girl is different.”
“Oh really? How so?” I could tell from Marcel’s voice that he thought I was full of shit, but I wasn’t going to allow that to deter me.
“Just trust me on this.” It was difficult for me to put into words, but spending two minutes with Annie, and I could already see the political dynasty we could form. She was well-mannered, soft-spoken but smart. Her worn shoes and secondhand clothing also told me that she was barely making it. And, what she told me earlier helped. She wasn’t going to be cleared by HR, which meant she was likely to lose this job. “Look,” I said, my voice low, as I leaned forward slightly. “We need someone we can control. These women are ticking time bombs. Trust me. I’ve seen what happens when they eventually grow disenchanted with their husbands.”
There was a pause on the other side of the phone, and I knew that as much as Marcel hated to admit it, I’d caught him.
Socialites were easy in some regards, but as they got older, and their beauty faded, they were like vampires. “You aren’t wrong. My mother took my dad to hell and back when she caught him screwing the nanny.”
I chuckled slightly as I remembered that incident. It had been the first in a string of nasty divorce proceedings that went on for a decade and drained Marcel’s father of most of his money.
“Who exactly is this girl?”
A smile unfurled on my face. Marcel was coming around to my side of thinking. I suspected that it was going to happen. Marcel was good at what he does, which was why I hired him to run my campaign, but I also knew New York like the back of my hand.
“Let me take care of this.” I looked out of the window. Annie’s nose was scrunched up as she focused on the tasks I had given her. “I’m sure that I can convince her to see things our way.”
“You better,” Marcel said. “Time is ticking, and unless you’ve got a flashy case win coming up, you’ve got to change the narrative if you don’t want people thinking that you are an immature shit.”
“Guess I should get a new personality than,” I joked.
Now, that we had a plan, I felt a million times lighter. I wasn’t worried about Annie. Women tended to bend to my will. I’d learned young that a flash of a smile and dropping my black card generally got me what I wanted from women.
“Call me when you figure out how to get this girl on board,” Marcel said. “I’ve got to get back to people who actually take my advice.” The click of the phone would have been abrupt for two different people, but Marcel and I had been friends for so long that it didn’t bother me.
I knew that he wasn’t really pissed, despite what he wanted me to think. My plan was a good one.
Annie Smith was going to help me become mayor of Manhattan, and she didn’t even know it yet.
Smiling, I jumped from my desk and walked out of my office. “Ms. Smith,” I barked out, trying to hold in a laugh as both Tommy and Annie jumped at the sound.
Annie’s blue eyes met mine, and I could see the annoyance in them. I wondered how far I would need to push her in order to get her to voice that annoyance to me.
“Yes?” she asked, primly. From the way her lips thinned as she bit them, I knew that she wanted to cuss me out, but that she wouldn’t. Not only because she needed to keep her job, but also, because I suspected that she had never raised her voice in her entire life.
“I need you in my office. I’ve got some depositions I need you to go over.”
