Dirty Work (16 page)

I open the door and pull her inside, pushing her up against the wall and letting the door slam. “What took you so long?” Without giving her a chance to answer, I crush my lips against hers and wrap my arms around her body, pulling her close.

She melts into me and snakes her arms over my shoulders, digging her fingertips into the base of my hair. Her breathy moans match mine as we feed each other air, tangling our tongues together with hunger.

My arms are holding her tightly against me as she lifts her legs, wrapping them around my waist and grinding on my hardened dick.

Even though I want to talk to her, I can’t bring myself to break our kiss. It has been too long since I’ve tasted the sweetness of her mouth and reveled in her softness.

Her hands pull at my shirt and slide underneath. My moans grow louder when her fingernails scrape down my back, sending tiny shockwaves throughout my system. My hand finds the base of her hoodie, and I start to pull it up, needing to feel our skin touching.

We both lean back, and I pull her hoodie off with one hand as she’s clawing at mine. Her sunglasses get tangled in her hoodie and fall to the floor with our clothes before our lips find each other’s again without skipping a beat.

I push her back against the wall, holding her body with the pressure of mine, and lift her arms straight into the air, holding them with one hand. “Reagan.” My lips are hovering above hers. “Say you’re mine and only mine.”

Her legs wrap tighter around my waist, and her chest is pushed up toward my face. “I’m only yours,” she says in a breathy tone, staring me straight in the eyes.

I pin her hands against the wall and bring my lips down to her neck. “I don’t share,” I growl against her skin as she digs her heels into my ass, pulling our bodies closer.

My lips blaze a path down her neck to her cleavage, and I instantly regret our position. I want to worship her body, but I can’t with her pinned against the wall. I release her hands, and my mouth connects with her as I carry her toward the couch.

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers into my mouth when her body lands against the cushions, and I cover her with my weight.

I lean on one arm and stare down into her beautiful big eyes. “I missed you too,” I confess as I trace the spot where her bra strap meets her flesh before pulling them down her arms one by one.

Just as I’m lowering my mouth to her nipple, there’s a knock at the door. Reagan goes rigid, and my eyes dart to hers. “It’s probably housekeeping. Ignore them,” I tell her because the last thing I want to do is stop.

She nods, pulling her lip into her mouth, and starts to settle back into the cushions.

Two more knocks, but louder this time. “Jude. Answer the damn door,” Carl says.

Reagan’s hands collide with my chest as she pushes me off her. “Fuck,” Reagan whispers. “What the fuck am I going to do?” She rushes to the pile of clothes on the floor and holds them in a bundle against her chest with a look of sheer panic.

I roll to my side and watch her. “Gimme a second!” I call out to Carl to pacify him for a few seconds.

“Hurry up,” he replies.

“Go into the bedroom. He won’t go in there.”

“Get rid of him,” she says, scurrying away with her bra still hanging down her shoulders and the clothes, including my shirt, in her hands.

After the door closes and Reagan’s tucked away, I adjust myself and open the door. “What?”

Carl’s standing outside with a giant smile and a manila folder. “I have it,” he says, brushing right by me.

“What do you have?”

He waves the folder in my face. “I have the very thing to bring down Senator Preston.”

“I’m not running against him, Carl. We’ve been through this shit before.” I walk over to the bar and pour myself a drink. “Want one?” I ask because if I don’t, something will seem off.

“No, I’m not staying. I just wanted to hand-deliver these myself. I know we’ve been over it and that you’re running against Reagan, but you’re running against the family name, not just a person.”

No matter how many times I’ve told him to stop digging into the Preston family, Carl hasn’t listened. “What do you think you have?” I ask, knowing full well Reagan can hear, but I don’t want to take any chances and have Carl stick around longer than he needs to be here. She’s my priority at the moment, not her father’s good name.

“He’s been having an affair with a much younger woman. I have photos that prove it.” Carl throws the folder onto the counter next to me and the photos slide out.

The first photo is of Reagan’s father with his arm slung around a woman’s shoulders, and he’s smiling. Using the back of my fingertips, I push aside the photo and reveal the next. He’s kissing the woman on the cheek while they embrace.

“So you want me to out her father as a philanderer?”

“Their entire platform is based on family values, and here’s the proof that it’s a lie. People are voting for her because of her name.” He moves to my side and spreads the photos out more. “Ruin the name, end the candidacy.”

“Leave these with me, and let me think about it overnight,” I tell him before taking a sip of whiskey.

“You passed up too many chances to bring her down, Jude. This is your last chance to tie up your victory before Election Day. If we put these photos out there, then the campaign is over.”

“I’ll think about it, Carl,” I growl.

“Don’t think too long.” He walks toward the door and pauses. “Election Day is near. We won’t have too many chances like this left,” he tells me before walking out, slamming the door on his way.

A few moments later, the bedroom door opens and Reagan walks out, dressed and crying. “It can’t be true. My dad wouldn’t do this to my mom.”

I walk across the room and embrace her. “We can’t control everyone in our lives, Reagan.”

She buries her face against my chest. “He’s always preaching to me about family and not ruining our name, but he’s the one doing it.”

“I’m sorry,” I say with my lips nestled against her hair. “I won’t let Carl release the photos.”

She pulls away and brushes her tears off her cheeks. “I need to see them.”

I don’t say a word as she walks towards the counter and the folder of photos of her father and the other woman. She moves them around for a moment before picking one up. “I wouldn’t believe it unless I saw it with my own eyes.”

Slowly, I walk up behind her and wrap my arms around her waist. She’s staring at the one where her father is kissing the woman on the cheek, and they’re both smiling, blissfully unaware of being photographed.

“I’m so angry with him right now,” she says, setting the photo down and picking up another. “He’s always preaching to me about the family name and how he’s done everything right. He makes me feel so small and inadequate, unworthy of the family name, and he’s been lying to the entire world for God knows how long.”

“I’ll bury these,” I tell her, moving my body closer so we’re flush against each other.

“Thanks,” she says, dropping the photo on top of the others before turning in my arms to face me. “I need to talk to him.”

I brush the tiny stray hairs away from her face, tucking a few behind her ear. “I’ll keep it quiet.”

“Carl won’t let that happen. Not for long, at least.”

“He works for me, Reagan, not the other way around.”

She smiles briefly and lays her hand upon my chest. “You’re so new. Campaign managers don’t always do what we ask or tell them to, Jude. Remember that. They have one goal—to get you elected.”

Using my fingertips, I tilt her chin to bring her eyes to mine. “I promise I’ll do everything in my power for this not to get out.”

She stands on her tiptoes and kisses me softly. “Thanks,” She murmurs against my lips. “I better go. I have to talk to Lexi about this.”

“This isn’t how I planned our night to go.”

We don’t have any other stops on the schedule together and no more debates. This was the last chance I had to spend with Reagan before the election, and Carl found a way to cockblock me without even knowing it.

She places her forehead against my lips, and I close my eyes. “I know,” she whispers, running her fingers across my pec. “Me either.”

“I’ll miss you.” I repeat the very words I spoke before Carl ruined everything.

She tucks her head under my chin and rests her cheek against my chest. “I’ll miss you too.”

I squeeze her tightly, memorizing the way she smells and feels in my arms. The next few weeks will be grueling, and more than anything, I want to stay in this moment. We’re in a bubble in here. The election is out there. Inside my room, we’re Reagan and Jude. Just a guy and a girl who want more than we can have.

Whatever happens in the next couple of weeks will influence more than the future of our campaigns; it will determine our fate.

W
hen I pull
onto my parents’ street, my throat tightens with emotion. I don’t want to park in the driveway and see the planters full of brightly colored flowers my mom faithfully waters every morning. I don’t want to walk in the door and see her taking care of the home she thinks she shares with a loving husband. And I sure as hell don’t want to confront my lying, deadbeat father.

I want to just keep driving. Past the house, out of the neighborhood, and eventually, across the state line. I want to hide and nurse the hurt still coursing through me. I don’t see how I’ll be able to campaign now, knowing it’s all been a lie. The father I looked up to was just a fraud.

But like always, I put what I want aside. I slow down and turn into the long, stone driveway. My father’s dark sedan is parked there. I texted him and told him I needed to see him face-to-face and that it was an emergency.

Once inside, I set my purse and keys on the counter. The kitchen is empty, the smell of homemade banana bread in the air.

“Reagan?”

My dad calls out from the hallway and walks into the kitchen.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “What’s this emergency?”

“Where’s Mom?”

“Volunteering for hospice.”

I sigh deeply, feeling like I’m seeing my father for the first time. His salt-and-pepper hair is starting to thin. He’s got crinkles beside his eyes and lines on his forehead. The expectant look he’s giving me—brows arched impatiently—has always made me hop to. But this time, it just aggravates my already raw nerves.

“Dad…” I swallow hard, steeling myself. “What would you say if I told you I was having an affair with a married man?”

He narrows his eyes. “I’d say it’s political suicide. Are you out of your fucking mind, Reagan?”

“Are
you
?”

“Excuse me?” His low, ominous tone makes me laugh bitterly.

“I’m not having an affair with a married man, Dad. Apparently, I got Mom’s integrity rather than yours.”

“How dare you—”

I take a step toward him. “No, how dare
you
? I saw the photos. Don’t even try to deny it.”

“What photos? I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

My heart is racing, the image of him giving that woman a tender look seared into my consciousness. “How old is she, Dad? She looks my age. All those lectures on putting family first and marrying your great love… You’re nothing but a fraud.”

The anger slowly slides away from his expression, and he draws his brows together with concern. “Tell me what’s going on, Reagan.”

“How many affairs have you had?”

He doesn’t move a muscle.

“How many, Dad?” I slowly repeat.

“What is it you think you know?”

“Don’t play games with me. Don’t pull your politician bullshit and answer a question with a question. Have a little integrity, Dad. You’re caught. Man up and own it.”

His nod is almost imperceptible. “Just one.”

“
Just
one? You have the nerve to call it
just
one?” I’m yelling now. “You betrayed Mom, and you think it was okay because it was
just
once?”

“I don’t think it was okay.”

“Does Mom know?”

“No.”

I shake my head in disgust. “She’s so good to you. So much more than you deserve, and you’re running around with a woman half her age?”

“You’re mistaken.”

“Like hell I am.”

He rubs his temple, concern etched on his face. “What photos are you referring to? Who has them?”

“The Titan campaign.”

“Then how did you hear about it? Have they already been released to the press?” I see fear in his expression.

“No. But I could give a shit about your damage control right now. You need to tell Mom.”

“Reagan…it’s not as simple as you think.”

I fold my arms over my chest. “You were busted with your twenty-something girlfriend. Seems pretty simple to me.”

“Twenty-something?” He looks genuinely confused.

“She looks younger than me, Dad.” My voice is laced with venom. “I can’t believe you’re cheating on Mom with a perky young blond. Is she your intern?”

He looks at the floor. “No. I think…I mean…I know what’s happened. Those photos the Titan campaign has aren’t of me and…well, the other woman.”

“Then who the hell is she?”

“My daughter.”

I put a hand on the kitchen counter to steady myself. “What?”

He nods, his expression loaded with shame. “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”

“Find out what? What’s going on here? Tell me exactly what’s going on.”

“I started an affair with Stephanie Barnes twenty-two years ago. The woman I was apparently photographed with is our daughter, Kennedy. She’s twenty.”

I feel unsteady. I wish Jude were here. I need to look into his dark eyes and feel the invisible blanket of reassurance he always wraps around me.

“Twenty-two years? And…?” I clear away the lump in my throat. “I can’t…I mean, I don’t even know what to say. How could you?”

“I’m sorry, Reagan.”

I hold up a hand to quiet him. “Don’t. People who are sorry don’t carry on for more than two decades. You’d still be denying it if there wasn’t cold, hard proof. You’re nothing but a
liar
.”

He nods, his expression sober. “Yes. I’ve dreaded the thought of my double life being discovered, but I have to say I feel almost relieved right now. I’ve wanted you and Abby to know Kennedy and Chris—”

“Stop.” My voice wavers with emotion. “Just stop. You disgust me. You have a mistress and
two
other children?”

“Yes. I didn’t mean for it to happen. I just—”

“No.” I cut him off, and the tears finally spill over. “You have to tell Mom.”

“When is the Titan campaign releasing the photos?”

“I have no idea, and I don’t even care. Either you tell her in the next twenty-four hours or
I will
.”

“Reagan—”

“Don’t ever use that stern tone with me again. Ever. You’re not the man I thought you were. All of this running myself to the ground, trying to get elected…it’s all about you. All to make you proud of me and carry on your work. But it was all just a lie.”

He sighs deeply. “Listen, I know this is a shock. I’m sorry. But don’t do anything rash.”

“You don’t get to tell me what to do ever again!”

After a few seconds of silence, he tries again. “Just take some time away from the campaign.”

“I had to, so I could come here. And there’s no way I’m going back and keeping up this charade.”

“Reagan, you have to.”

“No, I don’t.”

He shakes his head. “You don’t know what’s at stake.”

“Nor
will
I know. I’m in the dark about everything, Dad. You’re the puppet master, pulling the strings so you can always have your way. You pressured me to run when I said I wasn’t ready, and here I am, in way over my head.”

“You can still do this.”

“Does it matter if I want to do it?”

He furrows his brow. “Why wouldn’t you want to? What thirty-year-old in their right mind wouldn’t want the kind of power and influence that comes with being a United States Senator?”

“It was never for me, Dad. It was always for you.” I swipe the tears away from my cheeks.

“I’m sorry, Reagan. I truly am. I wish I could tell you to follow your heart, but…I need you to do this.”

My heart races back into overdrive. “You
need
me to do this? What does that mean?”

“Having a secret family is expensive,” he says with a heavy sigh. “For twenty years, I’ve had to find a way to support them without anyone knowing.”

My stomach churns with a sick sensation as my father’s words sink in. This hole he’s dug for himself just gets deeper and darker.

“You sold out,” I say softly. “You’re crooked.”

“I accepted payments in exchange for votes I likely would have cast anyway. That’s not crooked.”

“Not according to the Stan Preston School of Ethics, no. But then, neither is deceiving your wife for twenty-two years.”

“Reagan—”

“I have to get out of here.” I close my eyes, and more tears slip onto my cheeks.

“Let’s just slow down and figure this out,” my father says in his most placating tone.

“The only one with shit to figure out is you,” I fire back. “Twenty-four hours.”

He shakes his head. I wait for him to meet my eyes before dropping a bomb of my own.

“I’m seeing someone, Dad.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Jude Titan.”

His grimace says it all—this news bothers him more than me finding out about his secret family did. I’ve been nothing more than a pawn in his game all along.

“Dammit, Reagan.”

“You should be thanking me. Now you know why those photos haven’t been leaked yet.”

“If it gets out that you’re seeing him, you’re done. Ruined.”

My laugh is bitter. “I’m ruined, all right. But it’s got nothing to do with Jude.” Picking up my purse and keys from the counter, I give him a final look. “Twenty-four hours.”

“I won’t be given an ultimatum by you.”

“She deserves to hear it from you. It’s the absolute least you can do now.”

I walk out the door and dig my big, dark sunglasses out of my purse. I can hide my smeared eye makeup behind these glasses, but there’s no way I can conceal my emotions. My world was just turned upside down. The campaign couldn’t be further from my mind.

I’m not going back to the bus. I’ll text Lexi that she can send everyone home until further notice. The only person I want to be with right now is the one who gets me like no one else. I send Jude a hurried text:

Me: I need you. Can we meet?

Jude: Of course. Where are you?

Me: Leaving my parents’ house. I can’t go back to my staff right now. I’m a mess.

Jude: We can stay at the Palmer House tonight. I’ll cancel my appearances, make the reservation, and text you the room number.

Me: Okay. Thank you.

Jude: See you there.

I start my car and drive away, grateful my mom didn’t come home when I was there. Just thinking about my dad telling her this news makes me break down in angry tears again.

It’s all been a lie. Finding out about my dad’s affair has opened my eyes about myself and my own motivations in a big way. Turns out my ugly, shameful secret—my relationship with Jude—is actually the truest thing I have going.