Page 39 of Gates of Tartarus

Jonah smiles at me, and warmth washes over me, like the sun pushing through the clouds. “You want me to go with you?” he asks, hesitant and happy. I nod, and his grin widens more, if that’s even possible.

“Figure it out later.” Maddox’s curt voice cuts through the moment, and I pass the tickets back to Jonah, rolling my eyes slightly as I move to put my helmet back on. Deo surprises me by pushing past Jonah and reaching out to smooth down my hair briefly, hands lingering momentarily at the nape of my neck, tucking a few stray pieces of flyaway hair behind my ear. I meet his eyes, frozen and confused, and his lips twitch slightly as he pulls his hands away.

“Helmet hair,” he says briefly. I flush slightly and jam my helmet back on my head, thankful for the dark visor. Deo glances over his shoulder at Jonah, who raises an eyebrow at him, but Maddox interrupts the exchange.

“So one of us will head to the coffee shop, separately obviously. Allyouhave to do is get to The Table and maintain your composure.”

“Easier said than done,” I snark. “Yousit through a two-hour meal with the senator and see how it goes for you.”

Maddox flashes a quick grin, a brilliant spark of lightning in a night sky, and he pats me on the head. “You’ll do fine. Just keep complimenting him, and it’ll be okay. I have faith in you. But don’t hit him or throw anything at him.”

I shrug. “No promises,” I say, a dangerous edge to my voice.

“Drive carefully,” Deo calls. “Wear your gear. Protective gear is found to–”

I rev my engine over the sound of his voice, holding my hand up to my ear and yelling, “What? What? I can’t… what?”

“Kai! Helmets reduce the risk of death…”

“By 37%...” I mumble under my breath, finishing the sentence for him, and roll my eyes, even though he can’t see me.

Deo shakes his head and knocks on my helmet once. “Be safe!” he commands, and I flip my visor up briefly.

“Promise, Bossman.” I shoot him a quick smile, then snap my visor back down, and head out to meet the revered senator.

???

Two-and-a-half hours later I find myself wishing I’d gotten into an accident on the way to dinner. As James is knee deep into what, admittedly, is an interesting and well-practiced story about a scandalous affair between a congressman and a staffer, I find myself picturing different ways I could injure myself badly enough that I’d have an excuse to leave the table. I’ve been a perfect date, which is fucking exhausting by the way,ooo’ingandahhh’ingat all the appropriate points, being adequately impressed at the Santa’s length list of names he’s dropped over the nowfivefucking courses, holding my tongue to present the best, or at least the most palatable, version of myself. ‘Cause thebestversion of myself would be fileting the senator with my butterknife right about now.

Even walking into this place was a freaking chore. Tennireef was politely early and had met me at the door, his presence attracting a small crowd. He was effusive in his greeting, complimenting my simple but very pretty, backless, ruffled jumpsuit withjustthis side of appropriateness. I’d been reluctant to actually dress up, but, per my dossier, had to be presentable and had gone with a black, high-waisted, high-necked jumpsuit. It has a black, ruffly, lacy top with a line of skin exposed down my sternum to an empire waist, my back completely bare. The legs are wide and hit mid-calf, and I have on nude high heels. Simple makeup and loose hair with minimal jewelry complete the look – I’m not overdressed by any means, but to a man who’s only seen me in work gear, I suppose I seem like I’ve made an effort. We were greeted by a lovely but fawning maître d’ who was very,veryhappy to have Tennireef in his restaurant and who, I’m guessing, was responsible for the press having gotten hold of the fact that their golden boy was actually out in public with a date.

The guys and I hadn’t counted on the press coverage, which was both short sighted and foolish. Tennireefneverwent on dates. Never. There was the occasional photo op for a state dinner or event – he’d attended the Oscars the previous year with a well-known actress, but it was only in support of a documentary about the palm-oil industry that he’d helped fund – so his being out on whatappearedto be an actual date with a human woman was newsworthy. It didn’t help that he was clearly being solicitous, asking which table I preferred, holding the door for me, pulling out my chair. He’d announced to his assistant, in front of the press, to hold his calls unless it was the President, as he didn’t want to be disturbed. By the time we were seated, the small gathering of three photogs outside had grown into two news vans and a very interested group of onlookers. James was as close to a rockstar as a politician could get, and I knew, looking out the window, that the view from the coffee shop across the street was obscured.

Eyeing my bread knife, I’m in the middle of wondering how I could stab myself and make it look like an accident, when I notice he’s stopped talking.

Looking up, I meet surprisingly amused eyes. “Okay, Kailani. I get it,” he says ruefully.

“Wha…?” I trail off, seeing him shake his head.

“Listen,” he says, the performer facade falling away and leaving a more vulnerable face beneath it. “I don’tdothis much. I’m trying, I swear, but I’m not used to not having to be ‘on’ all the time. You do it long enough it becomes second nature. But I can see the fascinating tale of Senator Ashenburg lost you about five seconds in. So, let’s try something else.”

I focus on him and tilt my head. “Whyis this so important to you? Like, I’m not trying to be a buzzkill here, but you could literally have any other human being in the world. Why are you expending such a crazy amount of effort on this?”

“I don’t know exactly,” he says slowly. “There’s just something about you that I want to get to know better. Look. We have two more courses to go, and, unless I’m very much mistaken, if I don’t change tactics here, I will never get the chance to try this again.So. Your turn. What do you want to know?”

I pause, considering, then ask, “What’s the policy that’s frustrating you the most at the moment?”

“Ah. Okay. Usually politics and religion are avoided on first dates, but…” he grins self-deprecatingly, “I guess when you’re out with a senator it can’t be helped.”

I groan internally. The jackass just cannotstop himself. It’s no wonder he’s never seen out with anyone. He’s so in love with what he sees in the mirror he’ll have a hard time finding someone who interests him long enough to stop admiring his own reflection. I’m guessing if he were flexible enough he would take care ofallhis own needs and just forego a partner altogether.

He continues without missing a beat, waiting just long enough to give the impression that he’s thought through his answer, then platforms, “I’m strongly committed to alleviating 50% of long-term pollutants in my lifetime. Especially those that are carcinogenic. Having lost both sets of grandparents to cancer, I can’t see this problem and not want to fight it.”

Nodding, I say, “That would be awesome, if it were true.”

He sits up straight and narrows his eyes at me. “I assure you that it’s very true, Kailani.”

Leaning forward, I play with the napkin on the table, knowing to the watching eyes I look like I’m sharing a quiet secret with a potential love interest, and I say quietly, “Except I’m reading you, and you, Senator, are a lying liar. Pants on fire. Hanging, if I’m not mistaken, from a telephone wire.”

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