7 Degrees of Alpha (a collection of seven new BWWM, Alpha Male Romances) (19 page)

CHAPTER 15

After fighting through a crowd of reporters to get inside of her own home, all Taylor wanted was a drink, a hot bath, and believe it or not, Victor. When she saw her face on the front page of that paper, she should have run screaming from him. It wasn't that she thought it was his fault. After all, he didn't write the story or take the pictures. However, the expectation of privacy while dating the governor of Illinois was more than a little naive. If she didn't want to live under a microscope, she should have ended things with Victor. But somehow, she knew that she couldn't. That man did something to her. He put it on her good; in fact, better than any other man before him. Victor made her feel beautiful and sexy. He was all man, tall, thick, and dangerously handsome.

Taylor poured herself a glass of Pinot Noir and walked over to the sofa. She plopped down and grabbed her phone. She called her dad to cancel their trip. To her surprise, he never mentioned the article. She was thankful because she knew that he read the newspaper religiously every morning. He had to have seen the article, along with the derogatory headline. He was surely trying to save Taylor the embarrassment of explaining it. She studied her phone and debated whether or not she should return some of the many calls that she'd ignored. Deciding against it, she called Victor instead. When he didn't answer, she tossed her cellular on the sofa, went into her bedroom and plopped face down on her bed.

After ten minutes of inhaling his scent from her comforter, Taylor decided to get up, take a shower and shampoo her hair. Washing her hair would be the perfect distraction since it was long thick, and completely natural. Combing it out and twisting it was bound to take at least an hour. After that, she'd find something else to occupy her time and keep her from obsessing about the lie that had been printed for all of Chicagoland to see.

***************************

Taylor stood in front of her bathroom mirror and twisted a section of her hair into a Bantu knot. She was wearing her old SIU t-shirt and a pair of shorts, thinking of how simple life was when she was in college. At that time, her entire life consisted of school and parties. It was college where she'd met Darin, her ex-husband. He was the dark chocolate, fine as hell, campus playboy that she thought that she had tamed. He was an affectionate, attentive boyfriend that wasn't ashamed to profess his undying love for her. So when he proposed at their graduation, Taylor felt as if she had won a prize. She jumped at the chance to marry him. However, shortly after the I do's were said, the affection stopped.

With her parent's marriage as an example, divorce was never an option for her. But, apparently, the union between Taylor's parents didn't mean two shits to Darin when he came home from work one day and told her that his mistress was pregnant and that he was leaving her. It was a part of Taylor's life that she wished that she could erase. But since she couldn't, and since she heard the sound of her front door opening and closing, she shoved all thoughts of her disastrous marriage and Darin back in the past where they belonged.

Taylor left the bathroom and walked down the hall. She entered the living room to find it empty.

"Hello," she called out.

"I'm in the kitchen!"

Taylor relaxed at the sound of Maria's voice. She walked into the kitchen and leaned over the breakfast bar, watching Maria help herself to her wine.

"They still out there?" Taylor asked.

"Yep. Oh, and, if I were you, I wouldn't turn on the TV."

"The TV?"

Taylor was mortified. She hadn't even thought about the television media.

"Girl, yeah. They damn near on the verge of a prayer vigil for your poor innocent husband."

"Ughhhh... Fuck me," Taylor groaned, covering her face.

"There's a bright side," Maria offered.

"Yeah? What's that?"

"You look amazing in those pictures. Your ass is making a statement all by itself," Maria chuckled.

"Oh my God! I can't believe this bull-"

Taylor's rant was cut short when she heard the click of lock on her front door. Taylor hurried into the living room in a panic. She wasn't afraid for her safety. She was seconds away from her weapon, and Maria was definitely packing. Her panic was sparked by the fact that the only other people that had a key to her house were her parents, and she wasn't ready to face them. To her relief, it was Kenyatta that entered.

"Hey," she said as she turned to lock the door.

"Kena, how did you get a key to my house?"

"You haven't figured out just how resourceful I am yet?" she responded with a smile.

Taylor didn't respond. She was not amused.

"How did you get a key to my house?" Taylor repeated.

"Oh, calm down," she said, looking between Taylor and Maria. "Collier still had your keys. He said that he forgot to give them back. I took the liberty of using them because I was getting swarmed by reporters."

Taylor hadn't given her keys a second thought. "Oh."

"Kena, this is my friend and partner, Maria Mendez. Maria, Kenyatta is Victor's personal assistant."

"Please call me Kena. Everyone outside of work calls me Kena," Kenyatta insisted.

"Kena, would you like a glass of wine?" Maria offered.

"Maria, I would kill for a glass of wine."

"Come on. We're in the kitchen," Taylor gestured with a wave of her hand.

As Maria poured, Taylor asked, "So, what's up? What brings you by?"

"Well," Kenyatta hesitated a second before blurting, "I'm here to get you and take you back to the penthouse."

Taylor frowned. "What? Why would I go back to the penthouse? The media would have a field day with that."

"Taylor, just in case you haven't noticed, you could be staying on the moon and they'll still have their field day."

"Victor said that he was coming over here. Have you talked to him?"

Kenyatta knitted her brows and looked at Taylor as if she had just asked to most ridiculous question ever.

"Of course I've talked to him."

"Can't you tell him that I'll stay inside until I have no choice but to leave the house, and that I'll see him when he gets here?"

"Mm mmph," Kenyatta said, shaking her head. "I can't tell him that. Coming to get you was my idea. Taylor, he's the governor. I'm sure you understand that now that your address is public knowledge, there are some security issues. Besides, the governor had to go to Springfield to put out a few fires."

Taylor walked out of the kitchen without responding. She went and got the glass of wine that she'd left in her room and finished it in one gulp. She headed back into the kitchen with every intention on refilling the glass at least four more times.

"Taylor, I need you to pack a bag."

"Kena, I don't want to go out there," Taylor said, waving at the window. "I don't wanna go back to Victor's apartment so that those bastards can be all in my personal business."

Kenyatta's expression became sympathetic. "Taylor, sweetheart, that ship has sailed. Those bastards out there and those bastards at the penthouse are already in your personal business. And, I'm sorry to say... as soon as you fucked the governor of Illinois, not once, twice, or even three times, you became news."

Taylor could tell that Kenyatta was attempting to deliver her harsh words with as much patience as possible.

"The only thing that you can do now," she offered. "…is handle the situation with the dignity of the strong, classy sister that you are."

"She's right," Maria added with a shrug, before taking a sip from her glass.

"Fine," Taylor relented. "I'll pack a bag."

"Thank God," Kenyatta said with a chuckle. "If you had said no, Governor Creed swore that he'd come over, throw you over his shoulder, and carry you out of the house, media be damned."

"Damn, I love that man," Maria mumbled under her breath.

CHAPTER 16

After several face-to-face meetings and fielding call after call from campaign contributors, Victor realized that he hadn't heard from his biggest, most important benefactor. He pushed the intercom button.

"Yes, Governor Creed?"

"Lisa, can you get Jack Storm on the line, please?”

"Yes, sir."

A few minutes later, the phone rang in his office.

"Creed," he announced as he answered.

"Please hold for Mr. Storm," a female voice instructed.

Victor was placed on hold for at least three minutes. He drummed his fingers on his desk and waited, not so patiently, for Jack to come to the phone.

"Governor, how are you?" Jack's voiced boomed through the line.

"Things could be better, but I'm getting it together."

"Yeah, I get that."

"You know only Jack Storm would have the balls to leave the governor of Illinois on hold," Victor chuckled.

"Sorry, I was in the middle of making that million dollars that you're gonna need for your re-election campaign."

"Speaking of that... I just wanted to make sure that the recent media coverage hasn't cost me your support."

"She married, Victor?" he asked without mincing words.

"No, divorced. She's been divorced for years. The story is pure bullshit."

"Then you can count on my support."

Losing Jack's financial support would be detrimental to Victor's re-election campaign. Attempting to hide the relief in his voice, Victor replied, "Thanks, Jack.”

"Now, Governor Creed, can I count on your support?"

"And what does that entail?" Victor asked cautiously.

"Well, as you know, my wife hosts an annual benefit to raise money for Sickle Cell Anemia. If the governor could attend and say a few words, it would do wonders for spreading awareness and raising funds for the charity."

"I'd be happy to make an appearance and say a few words."

"That would be most appreciated, Governor. Victoria will be ecstatic. And you know what they say...’happy wife, happy life.’”

"Yeah, that's what they say," Victor chuckled. "I gotta take this call. Send me the info."

"It's on the way."

"Very good. We'll talk later."

"Later," Jack said before ending the call.

Victor stared at the phone, fully aware that he was just blackmailed by the billionaire. But Victor didn't care because all he could think of was Taylor. She couldn't have been happy with being attacked by the media solely based of her association with him. It was Tuesday, and he hadn't seen her since Saturday morning. He was still in Springfield, and although he was missing her, he found a strange comfort in knowing that she was sleeping in his bed every night. And even though they talked on the phone and through FaceTime throughout the entire weekend, it wasn't the same as having her in his arms or spooning her at night.

Admittedly, Victor was more than a little concerned about her returning to work. She'd told him that she'd spent the entire shift at police headquarters being questioned by Internal Affairs about the shooting. She assured him that she was represented by counsel and all had gone well. But tonight she was to return to the street, so Victor made arrangements to be back in Chicago in case she needed him. Though Taylor kept up a brave front, he knew that she was nervous about returning to the district.

A knock and the opening of the door shifted his focus from Taylor to Lisa, who was hurrying to his desk.

"What is it?"

"The paper, sir," Lisa responded, smiling.

She sat the paper on his desk and left. Victor looked at the headline. It read
: GOVERNOR'S GIRLFRIEND  NOT MARRIED.

Victor read the article. It described Taylor as a smart, beautiful, tough, decorated female cop. It went on to say that, according to sources close to the governor, he was totally smitten and he hadn't been as happy since before he lost his wife. The article had definitely painted a different picture of Taylor, and instead of a paparazzi photo like the last article, the paper used her official police photo. She was smiling beautifully and wearing her dress uniform. Her thick curly hair was in a tight bun in the back of her head.

She’s so gorgeous
, he thought as he reached for his phone.

"Yes, Governor?" Lisa answered.

"Send Renee Griffin a bottle of Veuve Clicquot. I heard somewhere that that was her favorite."

"Yes, sir," she responded. Victor could hear the smile in her voice.

Renee had fixed Kara's mess, and he was grateful. But in the back of his mind, he knew that it wasn't going to be the last time that Taylor's name would be in the newspaper.

Taylor managed to get through roll call without any of the typical snide comments about her being a rat. She and Maria had gotten a few strange looks when they entered the station, but no one confronted them. Taylor leaned against the wall and waited as Maria signed out their radios and car keys.

"Hey, Taylor," a voice called from behind.

Taylor, recognizing the voice, turned around to see Candace Wallace walking out of the locker room.

"Hey, Candace. Wassup?"

Candace was a pretty, blonde, and well liked officer that Taylor had met in the police academy. She worked the day shift, and she was getting off. She was still wearing her uniform, but she'd thrown a White Sox jersey over her uniform shirt.

"Not too much. Same ‘ol shit. It's hot, it's Chicago, so it's busy. We had three shootings in Roseland and one in Morgan Park. And, hell, that's only the South Side. I don't even wanna know what went down out west."

"
Lord," Taylor said, shaking her head.

Candace moved closer to Taylor. Lowering her voice, she asked, "Did you know that Gore was stripped of his police powers yesterday?"

"Naw. I hadn't heard."

"Girl, he went kicking and screaming."

"I bet."

"Yeah, but his partner's been talking big shit about you and Maria to anybody that'll listen; making all kinds of threats," she said with a frown.

"That asshole is barely off of probation. He don't wanna mess with me. Girl, he saw his partner gun that boy down for no reason and outright lied about. It's only a matter of time before they strip his ass too."

"Just watch your back and be careful out there," Candace warned.

Taylor smiled at her concern. "Yes, ma'am," she responded.

"Alright," Candace said with a nod. "I'll see you later."

Taylor watched Candace until she disappeared around the corner.

"Wassup there?" Maria asked, handing her a radio.

"Jim got stripped and his partner is talking shit."

"Girl, ain’t nobody thinking about his little punk ass. Come on; let's hit the street before they call our asses."

Taylor stuffed the radio in the holder and snapped the microphone to her shoulder. She followed Maria out of the back door. They walked through a sea of squad cars until they found the one that was assigned to them. Maria tossed Taylor the keys and walked around to the passenger side.

"What are we having for lunch today?" Taylor asked as she unlocked the door.

"Mexican," Maria responded. "We're going to my house for lunch."

"Yay!" Taylor squealed, hopping into the driver's seat.

But the tiny bit of excitement that she was experiencing disappeared at the site of a large dead rat hanging from the rear view mirror. Maria screamed in horror and jumped from the vehicle, but Taylor remained. She wasn't horrified; she was furious. She pulled a pair of latex gloves out of her pocket, put them on, and detached the rat from the rear view mirror.

"What the hell are you doing," Maria asked when Taylor walked around the car carrying the large rat.

Taylor ignored her and marched back to the station. She walked in the back door and hurled the rodent into the station. The flying rat bounced when it hit the floor, and then slid across the linoleum. Female, as well as male police officers, leaped, screaming hysterically, trying to avoid the rat.

"IF ANYBODY GOT SOMETHING TO SAY TO ME, SAY IT TO MY FUCKING FACE!" Taylor shouted before storming out of the station.