Traded for Love (5 page)

Once his cognac arrived, Stratford was all business. He barely paid Emily any attention at all, a fact for which I was exceedingly glad. My sense of ownership had really been tested. I decided not to bring her to any of our meetings again. This time would be the last.

We talked a good deal about my strategies and the type of staff I had working in my city office. Emily stayed quiet, never interrupting us as we ate and talked.

I enjoyed my New York Strip
Au Poivre
. Stratford ate half his filet and downed several drinks by the time we were finished.

“Excuse me, gentlemen. I have to go powder my nose,” Emily said, standing and excusing herself.

Both of us smiled at her before she left the table.

“Beautiful creature, that wife of yours,” Stratford said, sipping from his fifth cognac.

“She has many
attractive
qualities,” I said, giving my red wine a swirl in my glass.

“I don't suppose you could part with her for an afternoon, could you?” His eyes stayed fixed in the direction of the restroom into which she'd disappeared.

His question put me on edge. “Why? What for?”

“I'm sure my wife would
love
to meet her. She could give Emily a taste of what the life of a politician's wife offers.” He tapped his pinkie finger lightly on his snifter.

I literally shoved my tongue in my cheek. “Your wife … ” I said slowly. “I'm not sure.”

Stratford's eyes gleamed. “How about a bargain?” He tipped his head. “If you let me borrow your wife for an afternoon, I'll take on your campaign. How does that sound?”

I knew what he meant. I knew why he wanted her. The worst part was … I was considering it. My pride stung from the blow of his request. Could he sense just how badly I wanted to go into politics?

“If I were to consent to her …
visiting you
, how long would you have her?” I asked.

“Only a few hours. It doesn't take long to show a woman the intricacies of political life.” He grinned over the edge of his glass, his perfect pearly whites shining.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked.

“Come now, Jack, you've got to be a man of action. You've got to have enough faith in your decision-making abilities to make choices on the spot. How else can you expect to have power over others if you can't even master yourself?” He chuckled, turning back to check the bathroom entrance.

My anger threatened to erupt. He was challenging my control.
Nobody
ever
did that
.
“I have faith in my abilities, sir, I can assure you.” I almost told him to fuck off, but … I knew if I said yes, I could have it all.

I knew I could do it, too. Because I didn't love Emily, I could lend her out. I could order her to go to him, to listen to him, and she would. She'd do anything for me. He'd have her for a day and, with him supporting me and guiding me, I knew I'd have everything I'd dreamed of.

“She'll be back soon. What's your answer?”

I dabbed the corner of my mouth. “I think that can be arranged.”

“Good! Then we see eye to eye.”

Emily came back to the table. “I'm sorry I was gone so long. There was a wait.” The silence between us was palpable, which was probably why she was cautious with her next question. “What did you boys talk about while I was gone?”

“Actually, we were talking about
you
, Emily,” Stratford said brazenly.

“Me?” she snickered nervously.

“I was thinking that you'd like to meet my wife, tomorrow. She'd love you. What do you say?”

“I—I guess … What do you think, Jack?”

“If you don't have anything else to do, I think you'd enjoy it.” I hated lying to her. It was filthy for me to give her away like that. Even though in the past few months I'd treated her like an object, at least I'd tried to be good to her. But things had changed. I was desperate to win—and Stratford knew it.

Damn this bastard, I thought.

“I'd be happy to meet your wife,” she said, a look of trusting naivety on her face.

“Good. I'll expect you around noon.” He looked pleased with himself.

My stomach was sick. I stifled a look of disgust as he paid our bill, insisting, despite my protests, that he would handle it.

His reason? He said he considered it
an investment in the future
.

(Emily)

Back in the car, I opened my clutch to take out a mint. “Well,
that
was interesting,” I said, shaking my head. “What a weird guy!”

“Yeah, weird,” Jack echoed. His eyes were fixed on the floor.

“Jack, what's wrong?” She rested a hand on my thigh. “Are you upset because he paid the bill?”

“No,” he snapped.

I withdrew my hand as if he'd tried to take a bite out of it. “Oh. Do you have to go to the campaign office today?”

He laid his head back against the seat. “Unfortunately.”

I scooted up beside him and wrapped an arm around his torso. “Maybe you can take today off. It wouldn't hurt to spend time with me and the baby just for
one day
,” I said.

His hand closed around mine. “One day can make all the difference!” he said angrily.

I tried to pull my hand free of his, but his fingers closed tighter. He sat up and squeezed his eyelids shut, a stuttered breath escaping him. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell. I'm not mad at you.”

“Is there something I can do for you?” I asked. “Whatever it is, I'll do it.”

He tipped his head and our eyes met. “Come to my office tonight, after I get home. I need to talk to you.”

I smiled, trying to help his mood with what positivity I could spare. “Okay.”

(Hours Later)

He'd been gone all day, and, as usual, had come home late. By the time I heard the front door, I was pumped up. I'd gone and gotten waxed after he'd left for his campaign office. I was ready for the punishment he'd promised me earlier. The heat between us in his office had been so strong that I was sure he'd have made good on his word to fuck me right then and there.

Even though I'd been wrong about that, his request for me to meet him in his office had been encouraging.

Until I'd heard him go into his office, I didn't dare come out of the bedroom. After the telltale sliding noise of his office door, I crept down the hall and knocked.

“Come in,” he beckoned.

He looked ragged and exhausted as he sat at his desk. When he saw me, he didn't smile. This made me uneasy. He was always cocky and over-confident. My hopes of being loved by him that night suddenly plummeted.

“Did you have a good day?” I asked, hopefully.

“Emily, sit down and listen very carefully to what I have to say to you.”

Wow, he's drop-dead serious, I thought, a lump forming in my throat.

“What? What's wrong?” I asked, sitting down at the guest chair on the other side of his desk. He brooded in silence for a moment, rubbing his forehead with his palm. “Jack, I know I don't know much about what's going on, but you can tell me anything. I'll try to help you if I can. Did something happen with the campaign?”

“No. Nothing's changed with the campaign.” He stared off into the distance. “I have something to tell you about tomorrow.” He sat back in his chair. “It's hard to say.”

I wrung my hands. “What is it?”

“It's about your meeting with Stratford's wife. It's more than that. He wants … ”

I narrowed my eyes. “Wants what?”

“You. He wants you.” Finally he looked at me. He'd delivered the blow and I was finally aware of why he'd been different since the lunch meeting. “I want you to go. I want you to do whatever he says. The only time you're allowed to leave is if he's putting your life in danger, not that I think he actually
would
.”

“I—don't—I mean—Jack … ”

“I know,” he said. “He made a bargain with me, Emily. All he wants is for you to go to his house tomorrow afternoon for a few hours, and he'll manage the campaign.” It was written all over his face that he'd given the idea extensive thought. His advantage was that I would do anything for his love. He
knew
all he had to do was say the words … and then he did. “Obey my orders, Emily.”

I stared, unblinking at the carpet.

He was selling me for his campaign, using me as currency.

My initial response was repulsion. Of course it was. Apparently the idea that I belonged exclusively to him had been a lie all this time. No matter the directions my thoughts were pulled, my mind drifted back to the core of our relationship. He was my Master, and it was my duty to do what he asked.

The part of myself that might have rebelled was buried in the past. I'd become mired in a dense fog, one which had blinded me to myself, blinded me to who he was. Every time he was mad or upset with me, all I did was reach out for his love, hoping to grasp it.

Maybe
, I thought,
maybe this will be the thing that finally lifts the barrier between us
.
Maybe if I do this, he'll love me again
.

“I'll do it,” I said, clutching my stomach, which had knotted up and begun to cramp.

“I know you will,” he said. There was pain in his face as he spoke. “You're a good girl, Emily. I knew you wouldn't let me down.”

The Break

(The Next Day)

I pulled the red dress over my head and allowed it to drape over my curves. It would do. Anything would do for this fake meeting. I didn't bother with underwear. It would only prove a temporary deterrent for the inevitable. For the first time in my married life, I was going to feel the hands of another man on my body, and I was miserable—because my husband has
asked
me to do it.

Sitting down at my vanity table, I looked but did not see myself. I looked, instead,
through
my body, the one that would soon be tainted. I steadied my shaking hands just long enough to apply crimson lipstick to my lips. After applying mascara and a finishing powder to my cheeks, I waited in the silence for something to happen, for the walls to crumble, for the ceiling to collapse down on top of me—anything to keep me from having to see Stratford.

Tears collected in my eyes and I fought the urge to let them fall. I couldn't disturb my make-up, after all. I had to look good for the man who would ruin the perfection of the life I'd constructed for myself.

Part of me considered canceling, of calling Stratford or his wife and saying I was sick. The thought of disappointing Jack immediately overpowered that notion. I'd told him I would … submit … to this other man. It was too late to turn back, too late to do anything except weather the storm into which I'd willingly sailed, no matter how rough the seas.

I passed Jack's office. The door was closed and I knew he hadn't left for the campaign office yet. It was quiet inside, but I felt like I could hear him thinking. His silence was unusual. Until the moment I stood outside his office, I'd never imagined he was capable of regret, but I was beginning to wonder. He was sacrificing a lot, control over me and control over the situation. For him to be happy, Jack
had
to control everything. It was his way.

Raising my hand to knock, it occurred to me that it might not be the time to speak to him. I knew he'd want to see me afterward, though. He'd want to know how it went and if Stratford was … satisfied.

I decided not to bother him ,choosing to go down to the garage instead.

Dante was waiting there, looking down at his phone screen. When he saw me, he froze and dropped his phone. It clattered to the floor. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered, his eyes wide. “Are you … Does Mr. Duncan know you're dressed like … Holy God … ” He loosened his collar.

I cleared my throat. “Never mind how I look. Mr. Duncan gave you the address, right?”

“Sorry. Uh, yes, he did.”

I pulled my coat tighter around my body. “You're gawking. Aren't you supposed to be dating my sister?”

He went around to the driver's-side door. “I may be taken, but I'm not dead.”

I shook my head and slid into the back seat. We drove without another word between us. All the while I dreaded what waited for me at the end of the trip.

We crossed the bridge into Brooklyn. When we came to a black iron gate, I was puzzled. Nobody owned a home in the miles surrounding it.

I lowered the partition. “Are you sure this isn't a business?”

“This is the address Mr. Duncan gave me,” he confirmed, holding up his phone.

“Okay. Drive on, I guess.” I sat back against the seat, admiring the building that loomed into view in front of me.

The four-story mansion was finished in pale stucco and dark stone. Before it, a towering fountain bubbled invitingly.

Dante came around and opened the door for me. I hesitated to get out.

There was no one else around, and this made me more timid than usual. Finally, I gathered enough courage to step onto the flagstone driveway.

“You'll have to wait for me. I'm sorry in advance,” I said.

Dante nodded. “How long will you be?”

My cheeks flushed, knowing that I was entirely at Stratford's disposal. “I don't know yet.”

He gave me a sidelong glance. “I'll wait out here, then. Text me when you need me.”

I paced up the front stairs and knocked on the door. As soon as I had, I noticed the doorbell. This is it, I thought, as my finger pressed the button.