Betrayal (5 page)

“Yes, Preston’s too much of a gentleman to toss you both out,” Meri said, trying to ease her friend’s fears, even though she knew that was a real possibility.

Ariel sighed. “I surely hope you’re right, but if he asked me to leave, I’d totally understand. It would take a big person to forgive a betrayal like that. I mean, how many women sleep with their prospective stepsons?”

“Daarling, don’t beat yourself up too much. It’s more common than you think,” Meri said, trying to make light of the impossible situation.

“Thanks for the support, Meri. I really appreciate it. I’ll give you a call once I finalize my New York plans,” Ariel said, before hanging up.

After her conversation with Meri, Ariel sat at her desk, unable to concentrate on anything but Preston and his absentee memory. It
was inevitable that one day in the very near future her husband would remember the dreaded morning of her confession. Ariel bowed her head and said a little prayer. “Lord, please help me to conceive a child soon. Also let Preston have compassion and forgiveness once he learns the truth about me and Trey.”

“HOW MUCH
longer are you going to be, honey?” Preston called out to Ariel from the bottom of the winding staircase. They were going to Angelica Oglesby’s birthday party. Preston had been dressed and ready for nearly twenty minutes, but his wife, in true female fashion, was running nearly a half hour behind schedule.

“I’ll be down in a few!” she yelled back.

Preston knew that
a few
could mean anything from five minutes to another thirty. “Okay,” he said, practically to himself, barely loud enough for her to hear. He turned around and picked up the evening edition of the
Washington Post
from the Parsons table near the front door, and went into his office to wait for his wife to grace him with her presence.

“I thought the party started at seven o’clock,” Michele said, looking at her watch. She was standing in front of Preston’s desk, putting mail into his in-box.

“It does,” he said, slightly annoyed, as he walked behind the desk and plopped down in the chair.

“You realize that it’s a quarter after seven, and the senator’s house is at least a fifteen-minute drive,” she said, making a point of Ariel’s
tardiness.
If I were going, we would’ve left thirty minutes ago
, she thought. It irked Michele that Ariel seemed to care nothing about schmoozing with the bigwigs and their wives. Michele was trying desperately to get a foothold into the social scene, while Ariel took her lofty status for granted.

“Don’t remind me,” Preston said, flipping through the newspaper.

“Should I go out and tell the driver that you’ll be another twenty minutes? Ariel should have started dressing earlier. She knows you hate to be late,” she said, sounding just as irritated as Preston.

“Excuse me!” Ariel said, breezing into the room, holding a beautifully wrapped box decorated with a huge, ivory organza bow. She wore a magenta-colored cocktail dress with a moderate neckline and a triple strand of cultured pearls. Her shoulder-length hair was evenly cut and tucked behind her left ear. She gave Michele the evil eye. Ariel really wanted to give the girl a piece of her mind, but she refrained. She didn’t want to get into an argument before going to the party, so she held her tongue.

Michele painted her face with a phony smile. “Hi, Ariel.”

Ariel eyed Michele’s blouse, which was so tight that the buttons across her chest were screaming
Help
. They were stressed to their limit and appeared as if they were ready to pop at any second. The way Michele dressed repulsed Ariel, and she wanted to reprimand her right then and there, but that wasn’t her job.
I have to talk to Preston about this girl, and her inappropriate attire
, Ariel thought. “Hello, Michele,” she said drily.

Preston glanced at his wife’s sour expression. The aversion that she felt for Michele was registered all over her face. Preston quickly rose, walked toward Ariel, and relieved her of the gift. “Come on, honey; let’s go. We’re running late,” he said, ushering her out of the room before snide comments began flying between the two women.

Once they were settled in the backseat of the Town Car, Ariel wasted no time verbally thrashing Preston’s slutty assistant. “That girl has no shame,” she said, shaking her head in disgust.

Preston had heard that line so many times from Ariel that it didn’t
faze him anymore. He wasn’t in the mood to hear about Michele’s poor taste in clothes, so he just nodded his head, hoping that she would drop the subject.

“Did you hear what I said?” Ariel asked, raising her voice slightly.

“Yes, I heard you, honey, and I’m going to talk to Michele about her office attire,” he said, turning his face to the window and focusing on the passing scenery, praying that his wife would take the hint that he didn’t want to get into another disagreement about Michele.

Shortly after Preston had hired Michele, Ariel became paranoid and began thinking that Michele was trying to seduce her man. Ariel’s suspicions were solely based on Michele’s provocative wardrobe, and how she paraded around the office in see-through blouses and skintight slacks. Preston did his best to assure Ariel that nothing was going on between them, but she wouldn’t relent, and they argued on and off about Michele. The arguments didn’t end until Preston’s son Trey began dating the overly sexy assistant.

“When do you plan on talking to her?” she huffed.

He exhaled loudly. “Tomorrow.”

“Well, it’s about time. You should’ve had that conversation with her months ago. That girl has no shame,” she repeated.

“You already said that. What do you want me to do? Fire her?” he asked, totally fed up.

Ariel’s expression suddenly changed. That’s the last thing she wanted. She, Trey, and Michele had made a pact to keep the truth of
the affair
hidden from Preston for as long as possible. The day after Michele found Trey feasting on Ariel’s boobs, he whisked Michele away to the Cayman Islands for a romantic weekend. Trey used their relationship as leverage for her to keep quiet. Michele loved him so much that she agreed not to assist Preston in recalling the last forty-eight hours prior to his stroke. Part of the agreement hinged on Michele working for a Supreme Court justice. Ariel knew that the girl was a social climber and wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize her position. She wanted to say,
Yes!Fire her immediately
. But she couldn’t. If Michele lost her job, Ariel was certain that Michele would retaliate by telling Preston the ugly truth about her and Trey. “Of course
not. I just want you to talk to her about proper business attire. Tell her that tight, see-through blouses are
not
on the list.”

“Don’t worry. I will,” he said drily, ready to end the conversation.

They rode the rest of the way in silence. They were both preoccupied with their individual thoughts. Ariel was thinking about the impossible predicament she was in. Each new day brought with it the possibility of Preston’s memory returning. And that thought scared her to death. She felt as if she were living in a house of cards, and with any slight movement, the entire structure would come crashing down without warning. And Preston was thinking about how he was going to broach the subject of Michele’s inappropriate wardrobe to her without sounding like an old prude.

“We’re here, Justice Hendricks,” the driver said, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them. He got out, hurried around to the passenger side, and opened the door.

The Oglesbys lived right outside of D.C., in Arlington, Virginia. The neighborhood reeked of old money. The mansions on their block were valued in the seven figures, many with six-figure renovated coach houses in the back, which served as temporary housing for out-of-town guests. The luxury cars in the driveways punctuated the residents’ wealth.

“Thanks, José,” Preston said, before reaching inside and taking Ariel by the hand.

They walked up the winding redbrick walkway toward the front door, and Preston couldn’t help but marvel at the opulence of the Oglesby home. He had been there a few times before, and with each visit, the historic-looking colonial house seemed grander. The landscaping of the front yard was precise, with perfectly shaped evergreens adorning the sides of the handsome door, and perennials strategically planted in all the right places. Preston rang the bell.

“Good evening, and welcome to Oglesby manor,” said the uniformed butler, opening the door and waving them inside with a white-gloved hand.

The moment they stepped inside the marble foyer, Angelica approached them with warm hugs and air kisses. She wore a black,
floor-length Michael Kors evening gown with her signature multi-carat diamond necklace—an exquisite anniversary gift from her husband.

“I’m so glad you two could make it tonight.”

“Of course we’d be here to celebrate your birthday,” Ariel said, giving her a tight hug in return. She genuinely liked Angelica. They had so much in common. They were both married to politicians, and they each harbored secrets from their husbands. “Happy birthday.” She handed Angelica the gift. “This is for you.”

“Thank you; what beautiful wrapping,” she said, admiring the silver foil and organza ribbon. “Ted, can you put this with the other gifts?” she asked the butler.

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, took the package out of her hands, and scurried away.

“Come on in. Robert’s in there drinking and holding court.” She chuckled and led the way into the living area where guests were sipping cocktails and noshing on gourmet hors d’oeuvres.

Ariel saw a few familiar faces, but really wasn’t in the mood for idle chitchat. Most of the political wives didn’t work a regular nine-to-five. They were consumed with their husbands’ careers, and their jobs entailed planning elaborate dinners and swanky cocktail parties to keep their social status intact. Ariel didn’t feel as if she had anything in common with these spa-pampered, event-planning women. She had a high-powered career of her own, and aside from their housewarming gathering, she hadn’t planned a single soiree.

“I was just asking Laird if you guys were coming tonight,” Leona Forester said, standing next to her husband. She leaned in and gave Ariel a friendly hug.

Ariel returned the hug. She admired Leona. Unlike most of the stay-at-home wives, Leona came from old money and was a politician in her own right. She came from a political family, much like Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi. She entered law school the same time that her youngest son entered high school. Leona rose through the political ranks by running for alderwoman, then state representative, with plans on running for senator. Leona was a no-nonsense—type person
who said exactly what was on her mind. She didn’t have catty, gossipy ways like some of the wives, and Ariel appreciated that. “To be honest, I couldn’t decide what to wear,” Ariel whispered in Leona’s ear.

“I know what you mean. If I wear this black cocktail dress one more time, Laird is going to cut it off of my back. He keeps trying to get me to throw it out. He thinks this dress is too old-fashioned, with the high neckline and boxy shape.” Leona looked down at herself and chuckled. “Well, I guess he’s right,” she said, smoothing the front of the frock.

“Anytime you want to go shopping, let me know and I’ll gladly tag along.” Ariel smiled.

“Thanks, but no thanks. Shopping isn’t my cup of tea. More than likely, I’ll just turn on the computer and order a dress online; it’s less time-consuming,” she said matter-of-factly.

“Honey, you should take Ariel up on her offer,” Laird said, after overhearing their conversation. He then leaned in and kissed Ariel on the cheek. “You look stunning,” he said, quickly glancing down at her chest to sneak a peek of cleavage, but the neckline was too high for him to get any cheap thrills.

Ariel blushed from the slightly embarrassing comment. “Thanks.”

“So, what’s your take on Washington bloggers?” Leona asked Preston, gladly changing the topic.

“I haven’t actually read any of the political blogs.”

“Well, let me tell you, some of them can be quite vicious. During the Page scandal, there was a new discovery nearly every hour. How they can gather accurate information so fast is baffling,” Leona said.

“The tips are probably coming from a leak within. I wouldn’t be surprised if some of these bloggers actually work on the Hill,” Preston commented.

“I’m sure you’re right. Well, one thing is for sure, and that’s we all better keep our noses clean unless we want to be crucified on the Web,” Leona remarked.

Preston agreed, but Ariel didn’t say a word. All she could think about was the day Preston regained his memory, and the possible
scandal that it could cause. If one of those sleazy bloggers got wind of her affair, it could ruin Preston’s reputation, and possibly force him into an early retirement.

Leona held up her empty glass. “I could use a refill. Where’s the server?”

Ariel turned around to look for the waiter, but instead of seeing a white-gloved servant carrying a silver tray full of champagne, she saw an unwelcome figure gliding across the room. Coming toward them was Michele in her too-tight skirt and blouse. She wasn’t invited to the party, and Ariel was shocked to see her there.