Together they walked along the Cross Hall, but there was no sign of Whit.
“Perhaps he’s waiting for you in the East Room,” Anne said, leading the way to the music and dancing.
They stood at the entrance, searching the room, and simultaneously spotted him.
Anne cleared her throat. “There he is. Talking to Madelyn Sawyer.”
Sloane could feel the veins in her neck throbbing as she watched them deep in conversation, their heads tilted toward each other. An image of Robert, unbidden, filled her mind, and she found herself comparing him to Whit. She’d never once doubted Robert or felt unsettled while seeing him talk to another woman across the room. Had she, as she knew some believed, moved on too soon? After a few minutes, Whit looked up and his eyes locked with Sloane’s. He made haste coming toward her.
“Good night, dear,” Anne whispered as she walked away.
Sloane stood waiting while Whit hurried over. Before she could utter a word, Madelyn appeared beside them.
“Leaving so soon, Sloane? My goodness, such bad form to leave early. But I suppose when one is sickly, you can’t really blame them.”
“Madelyn…” Whit began
Sloane put a hand up to silence him. “Thank you for your concern about my health, but the reason Whit and I are leaving is because we’re still on our honeymoon. You remember what it was like when you first got married, don’t you? How much in love you were? Whit and I want to be alone to enjoy each other. Good night, Madelyn. Enjoy the rest of your evening.”
Sloane took Whit’s arm and left her standing there. For once, Madelyn seemed to have nothing to say. The woman couldn’t be trusted; that much was sure. Sloane’s faith in her husband was rock solid, and that was all that mattered. Madelyn, however, was a different story.
- 4 -
ATHENA
Athena was ready for a new job. She drank from her coffee cup as she read over the information Clint had sent her earlier that morning, circling a few lines here and there. Taking a final sip, she stood and put the cup in the dishwasher, then grabbed a sponge and wiped the counter again. She surveyed the kitchen and adjoining living room, satisfied that everything was in its place. She’d always taken great pride in keeping her surroundings immaculate. Athena’s Adams Morgan loft in a modern DC midrise with rooftop garden, fitness center, and parking garage had been a real find in an area where two-bedroom condos were selling for a lot more than she could afford. The only time her 765 square feet of space seemed small was when Clint—all six foot four of him—was there. He always joked about her miniature rooms and furnishings, his dark brown eyes crinkling in mirth. She never suggested they meet at his place, because, of course, that was out of the question.
At precisely ten o’clock, there was a knock at the door. Clint. Always on time.
She opened it, and he entered without a greeting. He didn’t bother taking off his leather jacket and sat at the island, then raised his eyebrows. “Did they call?”
She nodded. “First thing this morning. I have an interview with the senator next week.”
“You’ve gone over everything, all the job requirements? They’re looking for admin help with the wife’s charity as well as the home healthcare bit.”
“I know. I’m prepared.”
“Good. Make sure you impress upon him that you can handle the other aspects of the job.”
“I plan to spend the rest of the day on donor management software tutorials. They’ll never know I haven’t worked for a charity before.”
- 5 -
WHIT
The Russell Senate Office Building was exactly 4.2 miles from Whit and Sloane’s Georgetown home, and yet it was a twenty-four-minute drive in the best of conditions. But he didn’t mind the commute and wouldn’t trade living in the Chase mansion, even if he had to crawl on all fours to the office. He’d always admired the graceful dwelling, imagining what it must be like to live there. Now that he was married to Robert’s widow, he no longer needed to imagine.
Whit always got in early so he could have a short period of quiet before the demands of the day bombarded him. He’d been in meetings since 8 a.m. and was finally back in his office. He tapped the keyboard on his desk and brought up his schedule for the next two days, glancing at his watch. He had just enough time to go over material for this afternoon’s meetings before heading out for his lunch date with Sloane. Whit buzzed for his assistant.
“Linda, can you bring me the notes for the committee meeting on Friday? And a cup of coffee as well.”
“Of course, Senator. Right away,” she replied, and closed the door behind her.
He didn’t look up as he heard the door open. “Just put it on the table over there.”
“Should I lock the door first?”
His head shot up. Madelyn was standing in his office. “What are you doing here?” he asked.
“Now, is that any way to greet me?” She sauntered over to the desk. Perching on the edge, she crossed her legs, showing them off to their best advantage in a black Akris pencil skirt and mile-high Gianvito Rossi Plexi pumps. In the past, she’d modeled her designer purchases for Whit in the privacy of the suite she kept at the Salamander hotel for her rendezvous. He realized now what a colossal mistake it had been to ever get involved with her. His marriage to Peg had long been over in all but name—their relationship was a disaster. But he’d made it clear to Madelyn when he’d married Sloane that he had every intention of making his new marriage work. He’d never admitted the affair to Sloane—she wouldn’t have married him. How could he make her understand the special hell that his marriage to Peg had been? Madelyn’s attentions had been a welcome balm to his ego, a pleasant diversion from Peg’s constant criticism. He thought Madelyn viewed their relationship the same way that he did—something temporary, as they both had too much to lose if it ever became public. But the one thing he hadn’t counted on was her falling in love with him. When he’d married Sloane, she went off the deep end, threatening to tell Fred. But in the end, she’d have suffered as much as he if Fred found out. Her prenup would have left her with a fraction of the wealth she now enjoyed. So she kept quiet. But that didn’t stop her from continuing to throw herself at him at every opportunity, claiming he was the love of her life. He had to treat her with the same delicacy one would in handling dynamite. One word to either Fred or Sloane about their past could ruin him.
He sighed. She was nothing if not determined. “Madelyn, you can’t be here. I’m meeting Sloane for lunch in half an hour.”
“Change of plans, darling. Text her and cancel. You and I have important business to discuss about your next campaign strategy. Your opponent is gaining popularity. We need to put our heads together and figure out our next move.”