Misconduct

“Why does Tyler employ you?” I asked, twirling my straw around my drink. “Does he really need a driver?”

Tyler was very self-sufficient, but I wondered why he felt the need to be chauffeured most places.

“He says it saves time,” Patrick answered, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he took a drink. “He can get work done in the car while I drive.”

I curled my lips in a smile, thinking that made perfect sense for Tyler.

I spoke as quietly as I could over the beat from the speakers. “Do you think he’ll make a good senator?” I broached.

“Of course.” He answered quickly, his face never faltering as he smoothed his blond hair back over the top of his head.

“Is that a paid answer?” I challenged, and immediately regretted it.

His eyes narrowed on his drink, and he cocked his head to look at me.

He knew Tyler. Probably better than I did. His loyalty wouldn’t allow him to betray his employer even if it was a paid answer.

We sat silently for a few moments, and I felt like I should apologize, but then he spoke up.

“I’ve driven him around for more than five years,” he told me, his hazel eyes locked on mine. “Do you know how many calls he’s made, deals he’s negotiated, and people he’s spoken to during those drives when he thought I wasn’t listening?” he asked rhetorically.

“Being invisible has its perks.” He went on, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’ve gotten to see all the arguments he’s had with his father, with his brother… when they try to mold him into something he doesn’t want to be.”

He chewed the corner of his mouth, looking like he was thinking. I waited and listened.

“I’ve seen the frustration on his face when he worries about his kid,” he continued. “I’ve seen how he responds to women, and I know when one means more than all the others.” He paused, staring at me, his insinuation clear.

He took a deep breath. “I’ve had the privilege of seeing him more closely than probably anyone else, and I can tell you, his character isn’t just for the camera,” he disclosed. “Yes, I do think he would make a great senator.”

“Patrick.” A deep voice cut through the room, and we both jerked around to see Tyler standing behind us.

Patrick hopped off the bar chair and tucked it in. “Sir.”

Tyler’s eyes darted from him to me and then back to him, and I knew he’d heard at least part of what we’d been talking about.

“Thank you.” He nodded at Patrick, but he looked and sounded curt. “I have my car, so you’re done. Have a good night.”

And Patrick left without another word, leaving me in Tyler’s hands.

I decided not to feel bad about plying Patrick with questions. Tyler Googled me, after all.

I tilted my head and took in his appearance, surprised to see a difference. He wore a coal-black suit with a black shirt open at the collar and no tie. His short black hair shined in the light, and for some reason he looked younger than he usually did. Maybe it was the surroundings.

“You wore it.” He let his eyes fall down my body as he commented on the dress.

I stood up, grabbing my bag and my drink. “You sound surprised.”

He smirked, leading me away. “With you, always,” he joked.

With a hand on my lower back, he guided me toward the elevator.

The doors opened, and we stepped inside. As soon as he pressed the button for three, the doors closed, and he hooked an arm around my waist, pulling me in.

“Hey,” he whispered and then captured my lips, completely taking me over. His soft lips were gentle but fast and playful. He dipped in, nibbling and kissing, and then cocked his head the other way, going back for more as he grabbed my ass in both hands.

My knees buckled, and thank goodness his arms were wrapped around me, holding me up.

“You look beautiful.” He spoke in a husky voice, pinching my chin between his thumb and fingers.

He kissed me one last time, then let me go just as the doors opened, and I clutched his arm, feeling like my muscles had turned to Jell-O.

A host stood outside the elevator and smiled as soon as he saw us.

“Mr. Marek,” he greeted, bowing his head just a bit. “Right this way.”

He led us through a spacious lounge, complete with a small dance floor and several square arrangements of sofas, sparsely filled. The third floor of Veil was much like the first floor, but what was white downstairs was black upstairs, which made the ambience darker and more cavelike.

The water-tank columns glowed purple and the black curved bar had an array of different bottles along the wall, each glowing with the light built into the backsplash. Several semiprivate booths lined the perimeter of the room, and it appeared right away that guests in here were on a different plane from what I was used to. Nearly all of the men had young, beautiful women with them, and champagne was everywhere. The chandeliers glittered in the dim light, and I had the strangest feeling of being in a dream.

“Marek,” a man’s voice called, and we both stopped, turning around.

A gentleman, about the same age as Tyler, approached him with a smile and shook his hand. “How are you? Haven’t seen you around in a while.”

Tyler rolled his eyes. “Busy as usual. What do you think?”

He quirked a smile at me and placed his hand on my back again. “This is Easton Bradbury,” he told the man, and I felt a momentary shock that he’d introduced me so freely.

“Easton?” Tyler said. “This is James Guillory.”