Page 35 of Where the Blacktop Ends

“Pissed that I’m the one escorting you and not him,” James murmurs, sounding amused. “Bet he’s thinking about you in the steam room naked again.”

I force a smile as the camera flashes explode around me, momentarily blinding me. In that split second, I let James’s words sink in. But no—that can't be why Troy looks like he’s ready to murder someone. The idea is ridiculous.

The man is insufferable. Cold. Detached. Impossible to read.

And yet, somehow, still the hottest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” I laugh softly, my voice laced with disbelief. If anything, Troy’s probably furious that his employee,thenanny,is here, daring to show up at this elite event reserved for only the Hamptons most wealthy and posh residents. Either that, or he’s still angry about me sitting at his kitchen table naked.

James abruptly stops, his hands gripping my shoulders as he spins me to face him, his gaze locking onto mine with intensity. The sudden change in him throws me off, and I blink up at him, totally thrown.

“Georgia,” he says, voice low and serious. “I know that look. It’s the look of a man who’s jealous—who wants something he knows he shouldn’t have. Troy Marshall is controlled, calculated, and calm. He didn’t become New York City’s top political consultant—the one everyone books when they need to win—by being any other way. He may never say it or show it, but I’m getting the sense that man wants you.Wildly.”

I swallow hard, my heart racing at James’s words. His fingers graze the strap of my dress, slipping off my shoulder, and he gently tucks it back in place. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear.

“He might not ever act on it, but we can have a little fun provoking him, can’t we?” he whispers, a devilish grin spreading across his face. He presses a playful kiss to my temple, then shoots a knowing look over his shoulder at who I assume is Troy before guiding me into the ballroom, his hand pressed lightly on my completely exposed back.

Suddenly, I’m wondering if showing up at my first white party in the Hamptons was really such a great idea. And worse, if pushing Troy’s buttons might cost me my job with his grandson.

Chapter 12 – Troy

I watch as Georgia slips inside, her date’s arm locked tight around her waist, and all I feel is rage.

Guess that’s nothing new. Feels like anger is the only thing I’ve got left these days, but tonight, it’s worse. The glitz grates against me—obnoxious wealth, forced smiles, empty conversations. All I want is to breathe. To be myself for a damn second.

That thought barely has time to settle before she’s gone, swallowed by the doorway, replaced in my line of sight by a stocky, overeager man I’d rather avoid.

“Troy! Good to see you,” Mayor Meadows thrusts out a hand, grinning like we’re old friends and not business acquaintances. “Diane mentioned you needed to reschedule our meeting until next week. I’m eager to sit down and talk about my upcoming reelection plan.”

I shake his hand on autopilot, still standing on the steps of the country club, still fighting the urge to turn around and walk the hell out of here. And with that, my mask slides into place, the one I’ve perfected over the last decade—polished and practiced for every interaction with clients and other politicians. You’dthink I’d be used to it by now, after climbing from a lowly intern in the city government while clerking at a small law firm to now, the top political consultant in America where politicians from every state bill me thousands of dollars an hour for my time.

But itnevergets easier.

I’ve mastered the art of faking it, of pretending to care about the handshakes, the empty promises, the endless schmoozing. But deep down, the disinterest I feel towards it all remains.

I became a lawyer first, to fight the injustices that plagued my family and hometown in North Carolina and to make a living to support my young son and myself. But then Colt got arrested, and my plans changed.

I shifted that law degree into a wildly successful political consulting career, but only as a steppingstone. I’ve been biding my time—planning, plotting, waiting for the right moment to make my move. Running for governor of North Carolina has always been the endgame, a way to finally correct the wrongs that have haunted my family’s past.

Diane’s voice echoes in my head, strong with no room for debate:“You can’t afford distractions, Troy. Not now.”

She’s right. Every move I make is scrutinized. Every handshake, every staged smile, every fucking whisper in the right ear.

And yet, my gaze is still locked on the doorway where Georgia just disappeared, my focus straying from the one thing that should matter most.

I flash a million-dollar smile, all teeth and practiced charm, as sharp as the jawline I got from my father. By the time I hit my teens, my parents had rebuilt my grandpa’s farm from the ground up, and we could finally afford braces to fix the mess of crooked teeth I’d grown up hiding. Now, that smile isone of my strongest weapons—persuasive, disarming, and, when necessary, completely deceiving.

I let my grip linger for half a second longer than necessary, holding the mayor’s gaze. “We’ll handle it.”

A flicker of uncertainty crosses his expression before he laughs, all politician bravado.

Good. He knows where we stand.

It’s become second nature to sound so confident, commanding, but sometimes, even I barely recognize the words that slip from my mouth on autopilot. As a lawyer, at least my words carried weight. Now, in this world of politics, everything feels...hollow.

He nods, satisfied with my response which gives me the perfect opportunity to make my exit. Seeing a senator that I need to meet with across the room, I turn to my date Minnie and turn up the Marshall charm.

“Minnie, will you excuse me for a moment? I need to speak with Senator Allen.” She smiles back, her lips brushing weakly against my cheek in a kiss.

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