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“Harrison, I don't want to be responsible for ruining your chance of becoming governor,” she says, her face looking pained.
“You won’t. We won’t. We are being careful, although have you told your father? Because he seems to know exactly why I am here.” She groans, the noise hitting me straight in the groin.
“No. Not exactly. I haven’t said anything to anybody. But he is smart, so I think perhaps the fact that a Rothschild who is running for governor was sitting on his small sofa all afternoon watching football with him probably gave it away.” She is getting sassy with me, and I fucking love it. I love her challenging me, pushing me, screaming my name in my bed, all of it. I love all of her.
“I liked your sofa, it was comfy,” I say, grinning with a shrug.
“Harrison!” she groans again, and I step closer to her, too close for it to be professional.
“You know what else I like...” I whisper to her, and I immediately see her pupils dilate, and my heart starts beating faster knowing that she likes my dirty talk. The swift rise and fall of her chest encased in her tight crop top gives her away.
“What?” she whispers, her eyes now locked on mine, and I grin.
“I fucking love making you scream my name,” I grit out, memories of our previous encounters with each other filtering through my mind, her on top, her on all fours, her in the shower. Any way I can have her.
“Mr. Rothschild! Would you like to come back inside and see the ladies in the kitchen? They are currently preparing weekend meals for the homeless?” Jeff yells from the back door, and I step away from Beth and turn to see him. He is standing, looking directly at us, his line of sight clear as day. I don’t know anything about him, but after his interruption and the way he looks at Beth, I can’t say I like him very much.
“Thank you, Jeff, it would be my pleasure,” I grit out.
“You want to come and introduce me to the kitchen ladies?” I ask Beth, who smiles as her cheeks flush, and she clears her throat, telling me that I flustered her.
“Of course, they make the best tasting food ever!” she exclaims as she starts toward the building.
“Not as good as your pussy, I bet,” I murmur to myself as I follow her back to the center, where a furious Jeff stands waiting for us.
24
HARRISON
“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” Oscar asks me for the tenth time this week. I side-eye him as we walk around the pristine top-notch private hospital in Baltimore, visiting the patients and talking with doctors about the new treatment funding they are hoping to secure from me if I become governor.
I told Oscar about Beth and I this morning. I had to. It is getting harder for me to keep my distance. The need to constantly be around her is almost suffocating. I don’t think I have ever had the urge to be around a woman as much as I do with her.
But my father left a legacy, one that seeps into me time and time again. Introducing a new girlfriend at the time of campaigning for governorship is not the smartest move, even if the people seem to love her.
Oscar has been giving me nothing but frustrated smiles and barraging me with the same question over and over again all morning. I am frustrated by his constant need to meddle in my life. But I pay him handsomely to do so. To make sure I am focused, to ensure that I give the public what they want so I can win this election and govern their state.
“Fine. I won’t ask again. I mean, the polls are going well. I would just hate for anything to jeopardize that. We have done so much good work, and you are so far in the lead you will be almost impossible to stop. Almost...” he says, looking at me with his eyebrows pinched, a warning in his tone. I ignore him and instead I look over at the woman who has stolen everyone's heart, including mine, as she sits at an older man's bedside, holding his hand as he explains to her about his treatment.
There is no press here today, and I am thankful. We all need some space. The cell phones that captured me carrying her at the hospital over a month ago when she fell from the roof all sold their photos to the society and business news outlets and me and my staff members were front-page stories. Now I am seen as a fantastic, caring boss, looking after his staff on the weekends and Beth is the wonderful staffer who is just like one of the people. Living in the suburbs, getting treated at the local hospital. It was great for my approval rating and brought Beth and I even closer.
“So, we can see up to seventy patients here in the ward, with special chemotherapy rooms down the hall, but we really need additional nurses and ward staff and an injection of funds to help us look into complementary medicine, which is proven to help patients on their cancer recoveries,” Doctor Warner says. He’s one of the leading physicians in Baltimore and the biggest healthcare supporter of my campaign.
“What kind of complementary medicines are you looking into?” I ask, genuinely interested, because I haven’t really heard a lot about mixing Western medicine with alternative therapies, but it makes sense.
As he answers, a loud clap of thunder roars overhead and startles everyone, including Beth, who I watch as she jumps up from her chair and is now fidgeting next to the man who looks more concerned about her than he is about himself.
“We hope to include aromatherapy, acupuncture, and massage to begin with. We might also introduce chiropractic care and other things as we progress. I really want to have a multidisciplinary team who are committed to ensuring our patients are cared for physically, psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually. It’s about caring for the medical needs, but also their wellbeing. I think we could really become a state-of-the-art specialist hospital here.” I admire his passion and commitment.
I nod to him and look around; it is a far cry from where Beth and I were at her local hospital. Here, everything is new, freshly painted, clean, and looks to be running professionally and systematically. Yet, on the other side of the city, it is a different story. I can understand the need for medical advancement here. But other hospitals need a bigger injection of funds just to bring them up to this standard. There is certainly a lot of work to do in the healthcare space, that is for certain.
I leave Doctor Warner talking with Oscar, and I make my way over to Beth.
“Hi there, I am Harrison Rothschild.” I introduce myself to the man lying in the bed who is holding Beth’s hand. I stand behind her, my other hand on her back, the movement natural and one that the old man doesn’t miss. I give him a wide, genuine smile as she sinks back into me a little. I like being close to her at all times lately.
“Hi, Harrison, I’m Tony,” he says with a nod.
“Tony here is in today for his last round of chemo, isn’t that fantastic!” Beth says, her smile bright and filled with joy, and I can’t help but notice her body shaking a little as more rumbles of thunder roll around outside. Absentmindedly, I rub her back in comfort.
