Page 16 of The Senator: Raphael

I spaced out, interrupting the already hiccupping flow of their shift. In my defense, it’s insanely difficult to get the charming Raphael Wyden out of your mind after he’s defended you with panty-melting intensity

“Cappuccino,” I blurt out.

“What size?” She glares at me, and I can’t blame her. She’s having a really bad day and I’m not helping.

“Grande, please,” I murmur, and she writes my name on the cup.

I’m a regular here since getting hired at the nightclub, but I’m that nightmare customer who changes her order every time. They know my name, but I don’t have a usual drink and that throws them off every time.

I hurry to pay and move out of her way, apologizing and tipping her double. That makes her smile a bit, and I’m relieved while I wait for my order.

I grab my cup make my way to the front door. It’s already dark outside and I don’t notice the small crowd lingering in the small patio area.

The first flash just as I open the door surprises me. It blinds me and I freeze on the spot. There is a heartbeat where everything is still, like time stops somehow. Then the rattling of the cameras goes off and flashes blur my vision like a bomb exploding in my face.

“Are you Wyden’s mistress?” someone asks.

“Are you two dating?” another one questions.

“Are you two lovers?”

The questions bombard me from every direction. The group pushes against the door trying to get in my face. My hand is still gripping the door handle keeping it open. I’m so stunned by the horror unfolding before my eyes that it takes me way too long to react, cover my face, and close the door. Fucking paparazzi. What the hell is going on?

I turn around and find people staring at me. I walk away from the door, knowing that the paparazzi won’t follow me inside if they don’t want someone to call the cops, but I’m still trapped.

Looking around for a way out, all I can see is the small corridor where the bathroom is located. Walking quickly in that direction, I avoid the curious glances customers are throwing my way. When I close the door behind me, I let out a shaky breath. What the hell is going on? Why are the paparazzi after me?

I can’t even think. I have to get out of Los Angeles. I can’t stay here any longer. If my face ends up in the magazines I’m screwed. But how did they find me? How did they know about…? Wyden. They asked me about Raphael Wyden.

I grab my phone from my pocket and Google the future senator’s name. A bunch of articles come up with pictures of our interaction in this same café. Me with freaking adoring eyes, me kissing him on the cheek, and him with a massive erection in his pants. It’s not a trick of the lights, where shadows make you see something that’s not there, those pants are straining way too much against his crotch.

What the hell do I do now? I can’t stay here much longer, ifhefinds me…

“Are you okay in there?” The barista’s voice come from the other side of the door.

No. “Yes!”

“Do you want me to call the cops? I’m not sure they’ll come because they’re not doing anything wrong.”

They’re harassing me. They’re putting me in danger, but I can’t tell her that. I can’t tell anyone. So, I open the door.

“No, don’t call the cops. That’ll make it worse, and they’ll just follow me anyway.”

She smiles sympathetically and nods. “Last night you and Wyden were quite the news in here. They probably got a whiff of that.”

I nod because I don’t know what to say. From the pictures online, I don’t think it was an employee ratting us out. Chances are someone filmed the scuffle, me thanking him with a chaste peck on the cheek, and shared it on their social media. From there, magazines, gossip websites and paparazzies went wild.

“Is there another way out?” I plead, hoping she can help me.

She shakes her head, and my heart sinks a bit. “Not through a door, but there is a small window in our manager’s office. It faces the back alley. I can show you if you think you can crawl out of it.”

Well, it’s better than being stuck here. “Yes, please.” I follow her toward the office.

The escape is easier than I anticipated. The window is big enough for me to lower myself on the other side of the wall without breaking my leg. The alley is empty, and I can breathe a bit easier, even if I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to go home and pack my things, risking a paparazzo discovering where I live before I have the time to leave the city. The safest choice here is going to work and waiting until tomorrow before making a decision I’ll regret.

My heart hammers in my chest while I slip the hoodie over my head and tuck my hair inside the sweater. The walk to the back entrance of the nightclub never seemed so long. Every person I meet, every glance in my direction is a reason to speed up my pace to get safely behind the closed door of the club.

“What happened to you?” Elvira asks as soon as I sit down on the bench of the changing room.

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