Chapter 3
CHAPTER 3
Charlie
B right and early the next morning, I’m seated in our designated meeting room, waiting for the heads of my PR team to arrive. The victory party was a nice pause, but we all know the deal: There’s no time to lose on the campaign trail. What surprised everyone was that no one had to tell me that.
Considering my business background, the general manager for my team expected resistance from me: late mornings, no direction or discipline. I didn’t blame him—my money flow came young. Shouldn’t I be jetting off to hotspots around the globe, frequenting exclusive clubs, and sleeping it all off the next day?
Yeah, if I wanted to waste my time.
I don’t care for trivial pleasures like that.
I want something that will last.
When we officially announced that I was going into politics, I felt that thrill again. A rush of adrenaline pumped through me, blasting aside the stagnation that had slowed my movements for months. C.C. Secure had been doing great as a company: We hadn’t stopped refining and adding to our offerings since the app put me on the map, but once I made it? The press, the success, my repeated accomplishments, the women?
It all got so fucking boring . At first, sure, I was a kid set loose at a dessert buffet. I had my fill. I tasted everything that had been forbidden in my mother’s eyes. I tasted freedom. No longer limited to what was around me—what I could hide—I bought all the gaming consoles, the tech hardware I’d drooled over, the latest gadgets, the obligatory fast cars. And I built a haven for myself—then had Mom pick out a house for her and Dad.
And of course, there were the women. They flocked to me, preening like so many pigeons, desperate for whatever I’d give them: time, money, dick. I brushed them off easily, not the least bit interested. Those girls, bubbly and energetic or privileged and scheming, they couldn’t hold my attention for long. They all wanted me to sweep them off their feet, be the perfect boyfriend I looked like I could be.
That shit does nothing for me.
And I couldn’t get caught doing what I really wanted with an investor’s daughter.
So I hired Tommy to set up dates for me with women no one knows. Back in college, we used to date the same girl. I knew Tommy could pick the kind of girl I could relax around and have fun with, the kind of girl I could break in one night and throw away before the sun rose.
Too bad women break in the same way. It starts to lose its appeal.
Though stepping into politics might just solve all my problems. My perfect public image is teetering on a razor’s edge, each new woman threatening to topple what I’ve built and shatter my aspirations.
I’ve found that money can only satisfy you so much. But power?
I think back to the moment Sherrie knew she was trapped, reduced to a powerless thing beneath my thumb. Then I grin and shove the memory away. I’ll get hard if I keep that up.
Power. Now that’s something you can’t have too much of, and I’m setting myself up to get as much as I can.
When Terry and Anne file in, later than I’d like, they find me bright and cheerful as usual. Their morning greetings are rushed as they roll out the dark leather seats across from me and avoid eye contact.
Something’s up.
“Glad to see you’re eager to resume business as usual,” I comment, first taking in my campaign manager and then our political consultant. Terry, the former, is looking at me blankly, his hands folded atop the gleaming narrow desk before him. From how the set of his lips form a tight, thin line between his loose jowls, I can tell he’s not going to be leading this meeting. Anne clears her throat, attracting my attention. She smoothes dyed burgundy curls away from her forehead, straightens up in her seat, and dives in.
“Congratulations again on winning the primary, Charlie. We’re all excited about what this means for the campaign.” Anne pauses, waiting for me to acknowledge her positivity. I let a warm smile pave over my annoyance. She’s trying to prep me for bad news.
“Thank you. It was everyone’s hard work that got us here. You enjoyed the party yesterday?”
“Yes, it was nice,” she admits quickly, eager to return to whatever’s on her mind. “Today, we have our eyes set on the future.”
“Looks bright, right?” I grin.
Anne taps her finger on the table. “Well, yes. It’s starting to look that way.”
“Starting to?”
“Our main focus for this stretch of the campaign is voter confidence,” she continues after a deep breath. Terry looks down at his hands. “Voters want to back you. There’s just one area of concern that we’re struggling to make up for.”
This again. “It’s hard to find the right girl,” I joke.
“We’ve found her for you.”
I feel my brows twitch together like I’ve misheard. “How did you manage a thing like that?” I keep my tone light, which only serves to alarm them.
“Never mind that. The girl we managed to find is more important.”
My eyes shut in impatience, and it’s my turn to take a deep breath. I feel a surge of greater annoyance simmering beneath my skin. They’re trying to control me now?
“Her background is perfect. She comes from a great school, she’s smart, polite, humble family like yours. She’s a little blonde beauty, the public will love her!” Anne lays on the enthusiasm thickly. As I open my eyes again, I catch her look over at Terry.
“She’s perfect, Charlie, exactly what the campaign needs,” he weighs in at her silent prompt, his words coming out like molasses.
“The campaign needs an image of me scrambling to find a girlfriend because critics won’t shut up about that? How is this not a transparent ploy?”
“You haven’t scrambled to find anyone. Lillian’s been your girlfriend for a few years now,” Anne explains.
Lillian?
“You’re a good, proper guy, Charlie. Dating around has never been for you. That’s not your scene! You want a good, proper girl to take home to your parents, someone you’re sure about. Think about your people in the same way, as your parents. You didn’t want to parade around just any girl. She has to be special. She has to be the one.” Anne leans forward as she puts emphasis on her words, trying to sell her point.
“Lillian’s the one?” I repeat flatly, aware that I’m not being given a choice. “No matter what she looks like or?—”
“Do you want to see a picture?” Anne butts in eagerly, already digging her phone out of the small black purse she carries.
“No.” I hold a hand up. It doesn’t matter what she looks like.
“Charlie, if you don’t want to go through with this—” Terry starts, but Anne shoots him a fierce frown.
“Don’t go poking holes in this plan, Terry! It’s perfect. She’s perfect. Here’s what we’re going to do.” She turns back to face me, all the fingers of her hands pressed together and pointing at me. “You’re going to rent out a nice restaurant. That’s where you’ll debut Lillian to the world. Photographers swarm you nonstop, they’ll catch the two of you together entering the restaurant and leaving together, but Lillian will be wearing a ring by the end of the night. You’ll propose to your long-term girlfriend in the restaurant. All our problems are solved!”
Propose? “Are you going to give me a ring, too?” I ask dryly.
“No, no, don’t be silly. You should pick it out with Lillian. In fact…” Anne checks through her phone. “She’ll be coming to meet you later this morning.”
I look from Anne to Terry, my face a blank mask. Then my eyes drop to the tabletop, fixing on the light it reflects from its smooth brown surface. A flurry of hot emotion prickles my skin, making sweat sting to the surface. I feel my heart beating faster in my chest. It’s going to happen. It’s going to spill out.
“Please excuse me for just a moment,” I say to them quietly, already pushing back in my chair. The air-conditioned room is too hot for me, growing more stifled by the second. If I don’t leave, I’ll put my fist through the table, raging like an animal they’re failing to tame. As the image flickers in my mind, I find it harder to dismiss.
I need to get out.
Terry’s brief nod is sympathetic as I walk past him, but Anne is confused. I don’t dwell on how her wrinkled face crumples into another frown.
I just need to get out.
I don’t use force to close the door behind me, and I don’t storm down the hall like I want to, into my living room or the kitchen to find something to break. My fingers twitch, my heart beating faster with the protest about to boil over inside me.
I used to get this feeling more often, when I was younger, when steel restrictions would mold against my skin, compelling me to do or not do whatever my mother willed. Breaking, shattering, destroying something—anything—was the only temporary relief I could get.
And that’s alI I can think of.
But I’ve thrown my hat into the ring of politics now. I can’t throw tantrums like I used to. So I make myself stay just outside of the conference room within earshot and take deep breaths. What I need most of all is control over myself. I need to prove I’m not that same little boy.
I have the power now.
With slow, controlled breaths, I focus on the good.
Lillian is a means to put my critics to rest. They’ll doubt I’ve been in a long-term relationship, but what will they really know? They won’t be able to prove me wrong, and eventually, they’ll shut up and accept her. If the public loves her as much as Anne claims they will, they’ll shut up my critics for me.
I start pacing and feel the vice clamping my chest start to loosen.
With this issue solved, there won’t be any other issues I can’t handle. The path opens up to me like a whore’s legs. And Anne’s just doing her job. She was hired to solve problems like this. If I wanted a different solution, I should have taken this issue more seriously.
Was it stubbornness that made me keep shrugging off the family issue?
No.
The bad leaks into focus.
I don’t want a woman living in my home, touching my things, directing my household. My fingers curl into fists. I don’t want her snooping, prying, asking, trying to worm close to me. I shrug off disgust like a slimy thing that’s settled on my shoulders. I don’t want her limiting my activities ?—
I come to a stop, realization dawning on me.
Those are his thoughts, the little boy.
They’re not mine.
If a woman is going to live in my house, she’s going to abide by my rules.
Lillian must have agreed to the plan if Anne is talking to me about it. She wouldn’t waste my time like this. So this woman I’ve never met has already agreed to be my wife.
To be my property.
I’ve been thinking about this the wrong way. This is just another woman for me to break.
I feel the vice drop to the floor. My breath comes freely again, the weight gone from my shoulders.
She’ll go where I tell her to go, do what I say to do. I turn around and head back to the conference door, a light smile now curving my lips. When I enter the room again, Terry and Anne have dark looks on their faces—until they notice my bright expression.
“Good work, Anne. It’s a good plan,” I say as I sit before them.
Her mouth drops open in surprise, dyed eyebrows shooting up her forehead. She’s quickly back to business.
“You’ll be a hit with young families, and even older families will be drawn to you, eager to offer advice, reminisce, you know.” She continues to sell her plan and smooth over the fact that she didn’t consult me first. “I gathered some information about her I thought you’d like to know?—”
“Where’s the romance in that?” I joke. Terry and Anne laugh, venting the tension they’ve been holding. “I’ll get to know her myself. When is she coming over again?”
Anne checks her watch and her phone. “Mm, she should be here around 11. I sent a volunteer to escort her here. So not too long from now!”
Good. I can’t wait.