The bed dips and I feel him push my hair back from my forehead. He bends and kisses my temple.
“Do you know how much I love you?” he whispers.
I get a lump in my throat because, damn it, I love you, too.
So much.
I open my eyes, and we stare at each other in the darkness.
“Are you okay?” I eventually whisper.
He nods, but I know that he’s not.
“Have a shower and get into bed, babe.” I sigh. “It’s over now. You need to sleep.”
His eyes hold mine, and I get the feeling he wants to say something.
Gone is my powerful Mr. Prime Minister. This man is scared.
I hold my arms out, and he lies down to hug me. He holds me tightly, and I can feel his anxiety oozing out of him.
“It’s okay,” I whisper against his hair.
“Nothing about this is okay,” he murmurs.
I hold him close. “I know, but tomorrow we will have more perspective. We’re both tired and emotional right now. We need to stop thinking about it.”
“You’re right.” He drags himself up, showers, and then he climbs in behind me and pulls me close.
After a while, I hear his breathing regulate as he drifts off into an exhausted sleep. His big arms around me are comforting. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Hopefully a sense of calm.
For the first time today, I feel myself relax.
I wake before the sun, and I quietly slide out of bed. I put on my robe and sneak downstairs. I make a cup of tea and turn on the television to watch the news.
I already know the headline. Let me rephrase that: I’m dreading the headline.
In breaking news, Prime Minister Garcia has been involved in an extortion attempt.
Sebastian Garcia has been threatened with falsified images of himself soliciting prostitution in a high-end brothel if he didn’t pay ten million pounds.
A warrant is out for an arrest, but as of yet, the perpetrator remains on the run.
A defamation case is being lodged as this goes to air.
Fuck.
Panic runs through me.
There are a lot of people who know that Sebastian went to strip clubs years ago.
He was on a lot of women's radar because of his skills in the bedroom, they all knew his name back then, and he isn’t easily forgotten.
What if someone else comes forward?
There’s no footage; I know that for certain.
“It’s okay,” I whisper to myself. “This statement had to be made.”
If he is to survive this scandal, we had to come out swinging.
The news keeps going on and on about it, and I hear the shower turn on upstairs.
He’s awake.
I keep watching the news and I make him a coffee.
“Hello,” he says from the doorway. I glance up and immediately hold up the remote to turn the television off.
Wearing his perfectly fitting charcoal suit and a crisp white shirt, he looks the epitome of Mr. Smooth.
“Good morning.” I smile.
He walks over and takes me into his arms. He kisses me softly, his lips lingering over mine.
He doesn’t say anything, but what is there to say?
Both of us are unsure what’s going to happen with Helena, the loose cannon still on the run. We are both on tenterhooks.
I want to fight and yell and carry on like a child at him for getting us into this position with her, but then I remember that he was only trying to protect me, and my past is just as sordid as his.
He went to that club… but I worked there.
And nobody else besides the two of us would ever believe that he was my first client. My only client.
He has the weight of the world on his shoulders, and I’m not adding to his stress levels, no matter how selfish I want to be and put the blame on him.
I know I can’t.
“I made you a coffee,” I say.
“Thanks.” He rolls his lips and picks up the mug. “Are you all right?” he asks.
I force a smile and nod. “Yep,” I lie. “Are you?”
“Uh-huh.”
We stand with our coffees in our hands, staring at each other in some kind of fucked-up, silent stand-off. Both of us knowing that the other isn’t okay. Both of us unwilling to bring up Helena’s pregnancy revelation.
My anger and his stress aren’t a good combination, so I’ll play nicely until I can act like an adult.
“I have to go,” he says.
“Yes. Go.” I smile, grateful that I won’t have to try and bite my tongue for much longer. I really need to get a hold of myself.
Why didn’t you just get drug tested?
How could you be so selfish? How could you put me through this?
“See you tonight.” He kisses my cheek. “I love you.”
I fake a smile, battling anger, disappointment and blind rage fury. “You, too.”
He turns and walks out the door. It closes quietly, and my eyes well with tears.
Disappointment runs through me.
Say something, you asshole. Reassure me.
For fuck’s sake, reassure me.
Sebastian
I walk into the restaurant to see Spence and Julian in our normal seats at the back. I make my way over to them and fall into my usual spot.
“Fucking hell, Garcia,” Spencer whispers. “You’ve aged me by fifty years.”
“Right?” Julian mutters into his coffee.
“Did you find out anything more?” I ask them.
I called them both last night when everyone had left. We spent an hour on Google together trying to find out if it’s even possible to have an erection while unconscious.
“Nope.” Spencer sighs. “Just that it is possible and probable, if stimulated, to get an erection and blow while unconscious.”
I drag my hand down my face. “I have this really bad feeling.” I pick up my coffee with a shaky hand.
“It will be fine.”
“She’ll leave me.”
“April won’t leave you.” Spencer sighs. “She loves you.”
“I should have told her when it happened.”
“You didn’t know what it meant.” Julian huffs. “None of us would’ve ever imagined this could happen. Helena is lying, I’m sure of it. Stop worrying about it. You’ve got bigger fucking issues. Have you seen the news today?”
“There is no bigger issue than having a baby with my ex-wife,” I whisper angrily. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about my job. Imagine that… newly married while my ex-wife is carrying my baby. Do you really think that’s going to fly with April?”
Spencer glares between the two of us. “Helena's a bona fide fucking cunt.”
I put my head into my hands.
“How is April?” Julian asks.
“She’s acting fine. She’s strong. But I know as soon as this blows over, I’m getting it with both barrels. That’s if there is no baby. Can you fucking imagine if there is?”
“Well, if there is, you need to have her charged with rape,” Spencer whispers.
“Ha.” I scoff. “And everyone would believe it, wouldn’t they? It’s my ex-wife. Her word against mine, and we all know how this fucking looks.”
“Christ almighty,” Julian whispers. “This is a disaster.”