Bona Fide (Illusive Duet Book 2) Page 4

  “Don’t bring up the past, darling, you’ll give yourself a nose bleed.”

  “But I do live in the past, Demi. Because I can’t seem to pry my fucking name away from yours without a divorce.”

  “We’re not getting a divorce,” she grits through her teeth. “We’ve had this conversation before and the answer is still ‘no’.”

  I squeeze the leather of my chair instead of her neck, but it doesn’t stop me from imagining it. I never thought of myself as a violent person until Demi was in my presence, and all I see is a sea of red and a cloud of blackness when she speaks.

  “If you came all this way to get me to publicly announce us, you’re not getting a reconciliation. Hell, you’re not even going to get the decency to be fucking near me at a social event. If you want to make a fool of yourself, Dem, go for it, but you’re going to be kicked out and land on your ass.”

  Demi rolls her blue eyes and shakes her head. “It’s not so much you, Wade, that I want. It’s the First Lady title I’ve been waiting to obtain for years. I’ve waited patiently for you to—”

  “Then go fuck one of the Republican candidates because it’s not happening.”

  “You honestly think I’d let you take the presidency without something in return?” Her eyes turn into slits. “Oh, babe, you’ve been away from me for too long.”

  “Not long enough,” I deadpan.

  She straightens her spine with a shrug. “I’ll admit I was impulsive, but I was young.”

  “You were twenty-two when this shit started happening.”

  “Still a young woman trying to—”

  “Ruin people’s lives? Save your bullshit for someone else, we’re done here. Get the fuck out.” A mirthless laugh rings from her lips as she folds her slim arms over her dress.

  “We’re never done. Especially since I know your dirty little secret of how you got to become governor, Governor.”

  My jaw tightens as I steadily take in my next inhale. “Don’t think I’m not capable of as much power. I’ll shit on your whole life.”

  “Always were a confident son of a bitch,” she croons with a smirk. “One of the many reasons why I liked you, Wade.”

  “So, what, you just keep hovering this bullshit over my head?”

  The pad of her finger skims the top of my desk. “Yeah. Pretty much.”

  “And who says anyone is going to believe you?” She watches me closely, challenging me, really, because we both know what she’s saying is right.

  I fucked up, and she was there. The worst sort of person to witness my darkness when my world was crumbling around me.

  When she was the cause of it. All while rooting for me to veer in the wrong direction and way of doing things.

  I listened to her when I shouldn’t have.

  I craved her insight when I should’ve batted it away.

  I fell into her crooked ideas when I knew what they were.

  “It takes one leak,” Demi advises slowly. “And one investigation and—poof—say goodbye to everything.”

  “All it takes is one bullet,” I seethe. “And I can have it to where you’re never found or fucking heard from again.”

  “So politician of you.” She props her hip against my desk. “Idle threats from men when they’re forced in a corner. You all use violence and scare tactics—” She air quotes me with her fingers. “—to cause some sort of panic. I don’t startle easily, my love.”

  “Done?”

  “No.” She begins to round my desk, skimming her middle finger along the wood again until she’s just within arm’s length of my frame.

  She’s not totally a moron.

  “I want you to get rid of that whore, Reagan Shelton.” Her name seizes my heart from its next beat.

  My Sox, Shelton, the woman who wants nothing to do with me. The one who haunts me at night and taunts me by day because she’s here—fucking everywhere in my head.

  My brows knit when my legally called wife perks hers, waiting for me to respond to her weak-ass demand. “Now you want to run my employees?”

  “I know you’re sleeping with her.” She says it so matter-of-factly like there is no denying the fact that I’ve owned Reagan in a moment once, twice, or a dozen times before.

  And since I don’t have shit to say about it…

  Flanking around Demi’s body, I start for the closed door of my office. “Good for you, Demi.”

  “You’re not going to deny it?”

  This is where she fucks up—right here.

  If Demi was certain I was sleeping with Reagan, there would be no question. This is your case of jealousy, envy, and competition, all rolled into one.

  Demi is the mean girl who purposely made ugly friends so that she was always the pretty one. She never did well alone, she always needed praise. Forever craving to shine wherever she wanted because she was a daddy’s girl who received it for most of her life.

  Until he died.

  And I showed up months later, stricken by her beauty and landing right into a spot where I could fill that void for her.

  I replenished it until she took shit too far.

  “Sounds like you know everything,” I call back, my hand on the doorknob. “But remember with every reaction is a counter reaction.”

  “If you’re sleeping with her, Wade, it needs to stop now. Having your wife stand by your side at important events will only help empower you to—”

  “It won’t do shit,” I seeth, twirling around to face her. “It’ll make me look like I can’t stand you because I loathe you. You’re the most revolting female to even grace my vicinity. You might look great to eat on the outside, Dem, but inside you’re the definition of too opportunist with a bad aftertaste. I don’t want you. Go fuck off somewhere.”

  “It will show that you’re a family man. Someone dedicated to fixing things that might have been broken at one period of time. I will stand by your side too, not only to boost your reputation but show the kind of man you are.”

  I take a step in her direction, shoving my hands into the pockets of my pants because I can’t stand her being in my space. I don’t trust myself because I don’t feel like myself. Demi sucks who I am and what I’ve made of myself right out of me. She’s a parasite that keeps suctioning herself onto me and won’t let go.

  “Family man,” I repeat through clenched teeth. “Funny, I was at one time, wasn’t I?”

  Her eyes enlarge from my bringing up her sins but quickly soften back to normal. “It wasn’t the time for—”

  “The time? You killed our baby without so much as mentioning it to me. You never thought to ask what I may have wanted to do. You kept it a dirty little secret because you didn’t want to get—what you called—fat and ugly. You murdered my baby and went shopping afterward. So fuck you, Demi. Come near me again...and see what happens.”

  I begin to pivot around, but Demi’s arm shoots out to stop me, sending goosebumps and more adrenaline coursing through my body.

  Ripping out of her grasp, I put some distance between us because I’m scared of what I may do—what I’m capable of.

  “You’re not the one who would’ve had to go through the whole ordeal,” she fumes with a scowl.

  “But I would’ve been there for you, done whatever it was you wanted because you would be carrying my child. But, you know what, maybe it was for the best because now I’m not tied to you in any other way but by name. And that, Demi, I’m going to fix.”

  “Don’t threaten me,” Demi snarls with hands balled into fists. “I don’t like to be intimidated, and even then, you failed at it. So remember who can out petty who and cause more destruction.”

  I let my lips quirk, honestly, not giving two fucks right now with what’s going on in her head or what she has planned. “Have fun.”

  “I’m not done talking to you about this. We haven’t decided—” Then I slam the door in her face and head back into my meeting.

  Demi may be a crazy bitch, but she knows when she can and can’t l
ose her shit. And my office isn’t going to be one of those times where the employees I pay can play witness to her losing her shit on me.

  She might think she’s back, but I can guarantee it’s not going to be in the way she wants.

  She wants to play the bad guy, I’m going to let her have the starring lead for all of America to see.

  ♫ I Hate Myself For Loving You — Joan Jett & The Blackhearts ♫

  I’ve outdone myself—literally, there is nothing else I could’ve done to make this event more spectacular and beautiful. The location is perfect, spacious and impeccable with the numerous designs of white trimming over molded around each entrance and exit of the grand ballroom.

  The dozens of white and blue flower arrangements—that are approximately two feet away off the table—fill the room with a fresh scent. The music is classic and light, while people bustle in and around, being offered appetizers by men and women in sheer black.

  The grand staircase is shrouded with flowering trees at the bottom and top, and the linens—holy shit are they soft.

  It’s beautiful.

  The compliments have been rolling in, I’ve been handing my business cards out like free candy and already have an appointment for tomorrow. I’d say this event will be pretty epic for my business.

  “Oh Rea, Rea,” Emmy’s voice singsongs behind me. Plastering my rehearsed smile on my face, I turn around to greet her, and she looks stunning.

  In a soft pink gown that puffs at the hips and shows off her legs from the knees down, Emmy looks like a princess waiting for her Prince Charming. Her hair is perfectly styled, a silver necklace drapes down to the dip of her breasts, and, if she’s not careful, she might get ransacked by the single and married men at this party.

  “You look amazing,” I beam, taking the champagne glass that she offers me. “You need a bodyguard.”

  She smirks, tucking her chin into her chest as she says, “I do, Wade.”

  Just the mention of his name, and the simple fact that this is his party, makes my stomach begin to writhe.

  That or my lack of food consumption for the day.

  “Did you see the candle holders?” I ask, ignoring the whole Wade thing.

  Emmy nods. “You picked the ones I loved and that you hated, that’s true friendship right there.” I roll my eyes as I take a sip of my bubbly drink. “Speaking of, I wanted to talk to you—well, ask you about something.”

  I shrug. “Alright, then ask.” Watching her shift her body, it’s a tell-tale sign of what she’s alluding to and wants to know.

  Something I really don’t want to talk about.

  “What happened...with you and Demi at Wade’s surprise party?” I bite the inside of my lower lip—hard.

  So hard that I might draw blood and fuck my makeup up.

  I knew she’d never let it go, it’s just not Emmy to do so. Anything that involves Wade, includes her too. They have this strong, unbreakable bond that is so annoyingly apparent that she and I can never be true friends while she still works for him. And that will, more than likely, be forever.

  “Nothing really,” I reply calmly. “She was just snobby and—”

  “She’s a bitch,” Emmy protrudes. “She’s not a good person, never has been, never will be. So, whatever it is that she said…”

  “It wasn’t anything that I can’t handle.” I heave my lips upward to show her that it didn’t do anything when it did.

  There hasn’t been a day that goes by that doesn’t make me want to curl up and ball my eyes out. He possesses my feelings, making me feel susceptible to a long healing process.

  This man didn’t even take up but months of my life and my heart is acting like I lost so much more.

  “But, still,” Emmy voices. “She doesn’t care. She talks to me like I’m some whore Wade sleeps with even though she hasn’t been around in years, how the hell would she know?”

  I clear my throat as I take another look over the room. “She sounds fun.”

  Emmy scoffs. “She’s evil, Rea. The things she’s done...Wade’s been through a lot with her.”

  “That sucks.” I bring my flute to my lips and down the rest of its contents.

  “Speaking of…” Glancing back at Emmy, I follow her line of sight, falling on Demi trying to hang on Wade’s arm while he’s speaking to a bunch of men in suits.

  A royal blue gown drapes over her curves as she leans in to talk to the men in front of Wade. But it’s the open backing of the dress that has me narrowing my eyes.

  That’s my dress.

  Wade nonchalantly pulls his arm from her clutches as he continues to speak, but she doesn’t stop her antics of trying to stay close to him. Touching his lower back as she laughs and holding her stomach as she tosses her head back.

  My brain, however, doesn’t let the fact go. There’s no way in hell that bitch broke into my house and stole my fucking dress.

  How do I know that, you ask? I actually modified the piece of shit when I bought it.

  “What’s wrong?” Emmy presses before her small hand finds my forearm.

  I think I’m going to throw up.

  My stomach just dropped so hard as I analyze how beautiful of a couple they are.

  That I’m out of my league here.

  I guess I always have been with Wade, but his wife—yeah, that dumb hoe is a whole other ball game with her breaking and entering.

  “Nothing,” I manage to say through my indisposition. “It’s just...hot in here, isn’t it?” I begin fanning myself, but I’m far from warm.

  I’m cold.

  My body just dropped a few degrees from how pointless this all was. I was beginning to fall in love with a man who wasn’t available to me at all.

  “You’ve been running around,” she replies. “Do you want to grab some air?”

  I shake my head. “No, no, I’m fine.”

  Emmy loops her arm with mine. “Well, do you mind if I introduce you to a few people then? I think it’d be really cool for you to meet a few local business owners.” I bow my head and let her guide me away from the scene that plays awkwardly before me.

  Introducing me to a few local ventures in the area is a nice break. I meet two women who are around my age that own an art gallery. They easily take my head out of my current chaos with their ideas of displaying random art pieces around the city to promote aspiring artists.

  It’s not until a large hand hits my lower back that I’m dragged out of the first decent conversation I’ve had all night and thrown into the reality of where I am.

  I’d know that hand anywhere.

  It’s only been all over my body well over a dozen times, and my body immediately responds to it by the prickle of goosebumps that lines my skin.

  “Good evening, ladies,” Wade addresses in his low octave, makes-you-want-to-drop-your-panties voice.

  I despise that voice.

  So much so that it takes everything and every fiber of my being to not flinch away from him.

  “Governor,” Amber, one of the owners of the art gallery, extolls. She extends her hand and smiles. “It’s so nice to meet you, the party is beautiful.”

  “Thank you.” He returns her handshake. “You’re looking at the woman who designed and planned it.” Both pairs of eyes from the ladies standing in front of me bulge in shock.

  “Are you serious?” Bianca, the second owner, quips. “This is fantastic.”

  “Damn, you’re modest,” Amber states. “We’ve been gushing over this party all night and you haven’t said a word.”

  “She’s beyond humble,” Wade chimes in. “Barely listens to a word you say practically.”

  I step out of his touch. “It’s not a big deal. This is a normal—”

  “It’s the governor’s ball,” Bianca quips with a smile. “This is one of the largest events of the year. Everyone looks forward to it.”

  Stupid.

  “We’d love to talk more about you possibly helping us with a party we were thinking about having,�
�� Amber voices. “We don’t have many ideas yet, but we’d love to see if you might have something.”

  “I’m sure she’d love that,” Wade voices for me. “She loves challenges.” I dig my fingernails into my palms. He has the balls to speak for me like we’re a couple.

  An item.

  People with a past that I want to omit.

  Brain cells that I want to set on fire.

  Motherfucker, I’m about to kill you.

  “Do you mind if I steal her away for a moment?” I open my mouth to politely tell him to fuck off but the girls practically shove me in his direction with their cheery “of course” and “absolutely”.

  Wade shakes their hands again, thanking them for coming, before maneuvering me away to a moment that I’ve been avoiding like one of the excuses.

  There isn’t shit he’s going to say to make this right. No amount of words or how prettily he says them is going to loosen the tightness in my chest.

  I’m a mess.

  I hate him more for that.

  The rollercoaster ride of emotions that have spread through me over the course of the last three weeks has been nauseating. He has me back to smoking, not just weed but cigarettes, and I can feel myself seep back into my old self—cold, stubborn, and over it.

  However, there are some added side effects that have been fucking with my arctic nature. Ones I’m not equipped to deal with. Like my moods and lack of rationality that has been thrashing me around.

  Love.

  I swear with the way my body reacts, that I fell in love with this fucker.

  The soft graze of Wade’s fingertips along my spine, burning what feels like a hole through my skin.

  He knows I won’t smack it away.

  That my reputation is as much on the line as his.

  My business is the only thing I have right now to keep my mind moving. The fact that I need to take care of Mama and Marty when he comes home is the fuel I use to keep me from stalling out into a lump of depression.

  A few acknowledgments are sent in Wade’s direction as we make our way through the party. My elbows prickle to slam into his ribs, however, I purge the thoughts from my head—reluctantly.