Page 10 of The Art of Scandal

Rachel stumbled upward. “Matt and I need to finish our conversation about chrysanthemums.”

“Roses,” Mia corrected.

“Whatever.”

Mia surveyed the street. “You should probably go inside. It’s late and you have some nosy neighbors.” She started to say more, but then pursed her lips and nodded. “Have a good night.”

Once she was gone, Matt extended a hand but Rachel stepped back. “No. I’m not going in there with you. Not unless—” She looked up at the house,herhouse, and Nathan’s question ran through her mind:What do you want now?

She wanted certainty. Security. The safe place that Matt had promised her. A dollar amount flashed in her mind, and she blurted it before she lost her nerve. “One million.”

Matt tensed. They rarely spoke about money in specific amounts. Big expenses were estimated in “figures” and paid through invoices forwarded to their accountant. He floundered and sputtered, “Wh-what?” before dismissing his own question with a hand wave. “It’s late. Let’s talk tomorrow.”

“I want one million dollars,” Rachel repeated. “And the house. I won’t say anything about your affair or file for divorce until the election’s over. But I won’t let you leave me with nothing.” She would plant more roses. Once he was gone, she’d cover the yard in enough pink flowers that he’d avoid driving past because they’d remind him of this moment.

Matt looked stunned, his body frozen while his satin robe flapped furiously in the breeze. “Are you blackmailing me?”

“You’re a lawyer, Matt. Consider it a negotiation.”

“And I thought this was a marriage.”

Her first instinct was violence, a kick to the groin or a solid hair pull like girls used to do on the playground. He’d probably call Mia to mediate. Or worse, Shania. She could hear him whining to their therapist: “That’swhy she took off her earrings.”

“I know you don’t love me anymore,” Rachel said, voicing the truth they’d both been avoiding. Matt bristled like a guilty porcupine, ready to argue semantics. But she wasn’t strong enough for some debate. Her legs felt wobbly and bloodless, as if her heart were feeding them nothing but adrenaline. “But could you respect me enough to give me what I’m owed?”

His contrite expression quickly cooled into resentment. There wasn’t a trace of confusion when he spoke again. Just the bored, rushed tone of someone about to play a winning hand. “Owedis a strong word.”

“What would you call it?”

“Consideration.” He folded his arms. “It’s a contract term. A benefit in a bargained-for exchange.”

“Okay. I’ll say nothing in exchange for—”

“Bargained for,” he interrupted. “Not demanded.”

This was the most honest conversation they’d had in months. Maybe years. She was drunk and he was eyeing her like a rabid dog he’d backed into a corner. But she wasn’t invisible anymore. She had materialized, fully formed, right in front of him. “What could you possibly want from me?”

“You’re a part of my campaign, Rachel. I need you at my side, like before. I need you to…” He faltered, searching for words. “Do what you normally do. In public. The parties and such.”

Rachel had always suspected that Matt didn’t know what she did all day. He would ask her to do something at the last minute and get irritated if she said she was busy. She usually agreed to change her schedule, because deep down, she didn’t respect it either. Committee meetings, book clubs, and facials. Her calendar might as well be printed on glittery vellum.

The election was in eleven weeks. Eleven weeks of black-tie fundraisers, cutesy interviews, and playing food poisoning roulette to judge chili competitions at local festivals. Eleven weeks of pretending she wasn’t just a rage cloud wrapped in Prada couture. Then they’d be done. She could walk away with enough of herself intact to hide any parts that would never heal.

She knew Matt wouldn’t budge on delaying the divorce. Protecting his career would always come first, no matter how guilty he felt about cheating. But admitting he needed her had been a mistake. He’d handed her a card to play, and she was determined to take advantage.

Rachel brushed leaves and dirt from her dress. “Rule number one. You don’t get to tell me what to do. I will go wherever I want, when I want, and you don’t say one word.”

“Rules?” Matt tugged at his collar. “If there are rules, then we must have an agreement.”

“Rule number two. Never, under any circumstances, are you to say that you’re sorry you hurt me, or you never meant for this to happen, or that part of you will always love me. All of the above are grounds for immediate termination.”

“Termination?”

“I will kill you.”

“Right.” Matt paused, his expression softening. “Thank you for… being reasonable.”

“Don’t say that either.” She stepped forward. “And don’t pretend that this is a choice. This ismyhome.”

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