Page 17 of The Senator: Raphael

“Nothing, why?” I play dumb, but my shaky voice gives me away.

She raises an eyebrow, calling my bullshit. “Are you sure? Not even a kiss with one of the hottest men around?” she persists, a smug smile plastered on her face.

I was hoping my colleagues hadn’t seen the pictures, but considering how gossipy they are, there’s no chance of that. There are strangers out there who know where I grab my coffee, there is no way people who have known me for years would miss something major like me going viral on the internet. I silently curse my bad luck or bad judgement. Why did I kiss him? A thank you would have sufficed, but as usual, when I screw up, I do it royally.

“He just saved me from that prick who comes here every week and harasses me. He approached me outside the club.”

That news is enough to divert her attention to the other topic. “Are you serious?” She is worried.

I nod. “He’s becoming a problem. Showing up here drunk and slurring obscenities at me is one thing, but following me outside this place and making a scene in a public place is a completely different level of creepy,” I tell her as I slip into my sequined shorts and bra.

She frowns and crosses her arms over her chest. “It’s not just creepy, it’s dangerous. Have you tried talking to Ice? I know he’s his friend, but he’s crossing a line.”

I scoff. “Last time he handed me my ass because I didn’t give the guy a blowjob. Do you think this time will be any different?”

She shakes her head and sighs. “At least here you can call security if he pulls something shady,” she says as we walk out to our stations for tonight.

It’s not much comfort but it’s better than nothing.

Fortunately, it seems like everyone decided to go out tonight and order drinks at my station. I rush to make them, focusing on not screwing up my orders, which helps keep my mind off what’s happened in the last twenty-four hours. Because if I go there, I’ll panic. I’ll go back to the night that changed everything eight years ago. I’ll run out of here, pack my things, and jump on the first bus out of this city and state entirely.

But I can’t do that. I need to think about it carefully, plan my disappearance, withdraw enough money to not use my debit card for a while. I need to think ahead and make my move accordingly. Even if I am terrified, and my instinct is to leave everything behind, I have to force myself to not bolt. I’ve built a life here. I worked in this not-so-great place to save money for my future. I can’t just throw away what I’ve worked for so hard.

“We need to talk.”

I look up and those green eyes I daydreamed all day are staring back at me. Raphael Wyden stands in front of me with a serious expression and a massive bodyguard behind him. The same guy who threw out the creep yesterday. My heart hammers in my chest, and not because I’m happy to see him.

“Well, I don’t want to talk. I want you to disappear before someone takes a picture of us together again,” I say as I finish the cocktail I’m preparing.

I move in front of the guy who ordered the drink and fortunately he doesn’t even glance at me, too focused on the brunette who’s looking at him like she wants to eat him alive. I hand him his cocktail, grab his money, give him the change and pocket the generous tip. I move to take another order, but Raphael cuts in.

“I’m serious. We need to talk,” he hisses.

I pin him with a stern look and move closer so I don’t have to shout over the music. It’s not so loud in the VIP area, but I don’t want anyone eavesdropping on this conversation.

“No. we don’t. You have to tell your fucking PR team to do their magic and make the paparazzi disappear from my life. I don’t want to talk to you, I don’t want to be seen with you, and if you feel the urge to play hero, please, don’t do it with me. Leave me alone,” I spit.

I’m so close I can see the muscles of his perfectly shaven jaw snap with tension and his eyes squint a bit. He is furious, but I don’t have time right now to think about his feelings. He’s a grown man; he can deal with it.

I turn to the guy next to him who’s waiting to order a drink and smile at him. “What can I get you?” I smile seductively even as I’m simmering with anger.

Who does he think he is? Just because he’s a big shot in this city doesn’t mean I have to do what he says. I’m not his entourage he can order around. I’m fuming but I have to keep a smile on my face.

“Vodka tonic.” He glances at me briefly before continuing to scroll on his phone.

I turn to grab a new bottle of vodka from the counter behind me and when I turn back a redhead is gripping Raphael’s arm. She smiles sweetly at him and bats her long eyelashes. She’s wearing a midnight blue minidress that leaves nothing to the imagination. I peek at Raphael while I’m preparing the drink and he seems not so eager to see her, but he hides it well.

“Here you are,” she purrs seductively at him.

He says nothing, puts a hand on her lower back, and guides her out of my sight. It’s not the first time I’ve seen them together here.

“Well, at least we know he likes redheads.” Elvira bumps her hip against mine while she shakes her cocktail.

I look at her and roll my eyes. “Yeah. The similarities end there. It’s not even the same shade of red,” I point out. The girl is a natural redhead, while I just dye my hair way too often to cover my blond roots.

“That’s for sure. You have nothing else in common. She’s an escort,” she says before going back to her side of the counter.

A sense of discomfort settles in my stomach. Lola gossiped about that girl being a sex worker but having Elvira confirm it is unsettling. Yesterday, I got the impression he was a good man, someone who doesn’t think twice about standing up for others, but maybe I’m just another redhead that caught his attention. The massive erection plastered all over the internet certainly gives away his preference. But the fact that he pays for sex doesn’t sit right with me.

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