Page 20 of The Senator: Raphael

I look at Silver and wish I could read what she’s thinking. She seems surprised by the speech, completely incredulous at the proposal, and maybe a bit concerned about all of it. I can’t blame her. The political world is wild. It takes years to figure out how to navigate it and understand the dynamics. You’re always tiptoeing around situations that could bust or sink your career. It’s unnerving even when you willingly jump into it. I can’t even fathom how it feels to be dragged into it kicking and screaming.

“Shit,” I whisper rubbing a hand over my face.

Matthew pushes, knowing I’m about to give up. “Listen, it’s March. You have nine months until midterms. You can get married and Silver can slowly fade into the background until you get a quiet divorce, and that’s it.” Then he adds, looking at Silver, “We can pay you a lot.”

Her mouth hangs open as she stares at us like we are complete freaks. “You are nuts! And how did you even know my name?”

I don’t answer her question, but study her for a long moment. I try to imagine what it would be like to live with her and I’m surprised to find I may like it. She’s gorgeous and seems smart. She is not intimidated by my presence, and she undoubtedly doesn’t get shy when she has to call me out. Of all the women I’ve met in the last couple of weeks, she is the most interesting. Maybe it’s not the way I would have expected to solve this problem, but why spit on a solution that fell into our lap?

“He’s not completely wrong. It’s just nine months of a fake relationship, and in one year tops you’re free to step aside. I’ll pay you. I’ll pay for everything while we’re together, and we can arrange a payout when you walk away.”

Saying it out loud, it doesn’t sound like too crappy of a deal. It could work. I don’t have to love her. I just need to get along with her. Feelings are out of the question; it will be a normal business transaction. Well, maybe ‘normal’ is a bit of a stretch, but who cares?

“You’re insane,” she whispers, taking a step back like we’re the danger she has to run from. “I will never agree to something so crazy!” she says more firmly.

“Please. My staff can spin this thing to make it look good for both of us. I promise it will be worth it. I’ll pay you whatever you want.” I see Matthew snap his wide eyes on me. It’s risky to give her free rein about the money, but she looks she’s not convinced, and I have to do what it takes before she leaves this place.

“Absolutely not!” she shouts nervously.

Before I can even process what I’m doing, I kneel on the bare concrete floor. The cold seeps into my bones as the small pebbles dig into the expensive fabric of my suit. It’s uncomfortable, to say the least, but I can see the surprise on her face. It’s a different reaction from the absolute closure before.

“Do you want me to kneel to ask you to marry me? Here I am, asking you. Please,” I plead.

There is a moment of absolute silence in which she seems caught off guard, but then the warm in her brown eyes becomes icy. And in that split second, I know I royally fucked up. The next thing I know, she’s giving me a swift kick in the balls.

A grunt escapes my lips. I can’t catch my breath, the searing pain between my legs bends me over until I’m resting my forehead on the concrete. I cup my crotch and grind my teeth trying not to cry. And just when I think the worst pain is behind me, it starts to expand from my lower belly to my sternum. I almost shit my pants, and I struggle to hold back tears.

When I can finally catch my breath, I grunt in pain again and say, “I fucking knew marriage would kill me.”

I grab as many clothes as I can fit in my duffel bag. I can’t believe that prick asked me to marry him. Who does he think he is? Does he think he can play with other people’s lives like that? For eight years I did everything to disappear. And he wakes up one day demanding I step into the spotlight. Is he crazy?

I let out a breath and plop down on my bed. I feel like a deflated balloon, scared and spinning out of control. No, he is not crazy. He doesn’t know. I rub a hand over my face and sigh. This isn’t happening. This is a nightmare that can’t be happening.

I have to admit that for a split second I considered staying for the money. I could ask for what I’d need to live a comfortable life without worrying about how to survive, but the truth is it would be suicide. Being with him means being on the front pages of every paper, on every website. Everywhere. I can’t afford that.

“Hey,” Lola’s sweet voice comes from my bedroom doorway.

I turn around. She’s smiling at me, but I can see she’s concerned. When I came back this early morning I found her in the kitchen, worried because I didn’t come home last night. I had to confess where I was, without going into detail about the marriage proposal.

“Hey.”

She walks into my room and sits down next to me, glancing at the bag with a sad expression. She grabs my hand and intertwines our fingers. She’s the closest thing to a friend I’ve had in the last eight years, and I’ll miss her.

“I talked to the guy I told you about. He said if you go there at noon, he can take your picture and have a fake ID ready in a couple of hours.” She says this in a low voice, as if scared someone can hear our conversation. We’re alone in this apartment, but I have the same fear.

“Thank you. You’re saving my life.” And she is, literally. With my face, and probably in a few hours my name, all over the web, I need a new identity and I need it soon.

She stares at me for a long moment with concern in her eyes. I know she wants to say something, but she’s not sure if she can. Over the years, I’ve shut down every conversation about my past. Not in a mean way, but I made it clear that I don’t want to talk about it, and she always accepted that. But I know this time she’s worried, and she wants to know more about what’s happening.

“You can ask me, you know?” I try to smile at her.

“I don’t want to know.” She smiles at me, and I frown, surprised by her answer. “I mean, I’m obviously curious, but if you haven’t told me all these years there must be a reason. I don’t know if you’ve done something or are running from someone, but I don’t want to know what happened before you moved here. I don’t want to be an accomplice if you’ve killed someone, and I don’t want to unconsciously betray you if you’re running. I love you. You’re the best roommate and partner in crime I could have wished for, and I want the best for you. And if this means you’ll disappear from my life, so be it. Because I’d rather know you’re safe somewhere else than dead here in Los Angeles.” She kisses my forehead and tightens the grip on our fingers.

I don’t deserve her. I don’t deserve the unconditional love she gives me. She’s done everything for me, and I’ve lied to her face every single day since I met her. Sure, I did it because I had to, but a lie is a lie no matter the reason behind it. I’ll miss the shift at the nightclub, our raids on Rodeo Drive, our late nights watching TV. I’ll miss her, and I’m not surprised when she dries a tear running down my cheek.

“Thank you. I’ll miss you,” I whisper.

She nods and lets go of my hand. “Pack something and then go to bed. You look like shit, and you don’t have to be downtown until noon. I’ll wake you up,” she promises before standing up and strolling out the door.

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