Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Rayne
“We’re gonna miss you,” Symone says, her eyes shimmering as she lifts her cup of punch in a farewell toast.
“I’m going to miss you all, too.”
The words catch in my throat. This office has been my chrysalis for nine years. I walked in as an intern with a college degree and a head full of dreams. Today I’m walking out as a woman who knows what she wants.
Ready for the mayor’s seat. And when the time—and the man—is right, I’ll be ready for the kind of forever, exclusive love that puts me and my heart first.
DK keeps checking off those “right man” boxes.
He knew I was feeling emotional about the farewell and stayed on the phone with me last night, letting me talk, letting me feel it.
No fixing. No minimizing. Just real comfort…
like he was holding me in his arms. Even in a room full of people, that warmth hasn’t left me.
Seven hours until our weekend begins.
My pulse is on its own countdown, a restless flutter in my neck and wrists that speeds up every time I glance at the clock.
Council members drift in and out, offering handshakes and congratulations. Cecil is noticeably absent—a small, petty man who probably thinks his no-show is a punishment.
Nah, boo. I’ve already left the chat.
At five, when the workday officially ends, I text DK.
Me: Leaving in 20 minutes. I’m soooo excited, I could probably levitate there. See you soon.
“What you grinning at?” Anika asks, popping in at that exact moment and leaning against the doorframe.
“Just looking forward to a chill weekend before I go hard on the campaign trail.” The half-truth tastes like copper.
“So no plans?”
“Actually, I’m going to put this gift card from my team to good use.” I wave the Aqua Hotel voucher like a credibility receipt. “Mini vacation.” That won’t raise questions with anyone who knows me.
“Nice.” She helps me pack the last of my books into a cardboard box. “You deserve the pampering.”
“Thanks.” I tuck the gift card into my purse.
DK made the arrangements all through Neo and came up with the cover. A strategist to the core, the plan is airtight: I park near my favorite hotel. DK tells his people he’s going to Grove Cove with friends. Same weekend away, different locations.
He’s picking me up outside The Aqua at seven-thirty. Then we’ll drive an hour to the lake house.
The gift card adds an extra layer of cover I didn’t expect. It also adds another layer of guilt.
Anika isn’t just my campaign manager, she’s my close friend. She has staked her reputation on my name. If she knew I was literally getting into bed with the opposition, she’d lose her whole damn mind. Still, I don’t like keeping the truth from her.
Lying to my dad, though? That’s the prickly pill. We don’t keep secrets. I know he wouldn’t judge me; he never does. Even though he knew Hollis was a disaster from the start, he just offered his love and support in the brutal aftermath of our breakup.
I’m waiting to tell him about DK. This weekend is a litmus test of sorts—to see if what we have is as real as it feels.
I want to make sure I’m not just getting the version of DK he wants me to see, but who he really is.
That was my mistake with other men. I accepted what they were selling without ever looking too closely beneath the hood.
I make one final round, hugging my team and soaking in the bittersweet weight of goodbye. Then I load up my two boxes—and my stubborn jade plant that survived every phase of me—into the trunk and head home.
Lot: Happy D weekend!
I smile, grateful to have my cuz to share this secret with.
Me: I can’t wait. Getting ready to go.
Lot: Drive safe. Have fun. And eat that man up.
Me: You know I will.
After showering off the day, I swap my blazer for a short sundress and sexy undies. Grab my pre-packed duffle, and hit the road to Chicago with showtunes blaring through the speakers, belting out the lyrics as the miles fly by.
DK texts when he’s five minutes out. I pull into the public lot beside the hotel—where this thing ignited between us nearly a month ago—and slide on my wide-brimmed hat and Jackie O shades. It’s a flimsy disguise, but it helps me to feel less exposed.
At seven-thirty on the dot, his sleek black Audi rolls up. My pulse zings as the tinted window glides down, revealing a smile that spreads across his face, crinkling the corners of his dark eyes behind his glasses.
“Excuse me,” he says, his tone teasing. “I’m here to pick up a suspicious-looking tourist.”
I laugh, the sound bright and giddy in the humid air.
He hops out to toss my bag in the trunk, and I take a second to ogle the way the cabana shirt stretches wide across his shoulders, showing a glimpse of chest. Even though the loose fit hides his love handles, my memory is 20/20. I can’t wait to get my hands on them.
I slide into the passenger seat, welcoming the blast of AC and the cool, smooth leather against my thighs.
Safe behind the tinted glass, I pull off my hat, drop it onto the back seat, and gather my curls into a top knot.
As he climbs back in, I instinctively glance toward the hotel entrance. “Do you think anyone saw us?”
“No. You’re guud, Loo-nah. But I wouldn’t recommend a career in undercover work.”
My laughter is cut short when his hand cups the back of my neck, his thumb grazing the curve of my jaw.
His scent—that heady mix of cedar, clean skin, and earthy spice—wraps around me just as he seals his mouth over mine.
It’s not a rushed hello. It’s deep and soulful, sending a thousand sparks skittering down my spine.
“Been waiting all week to do that,” he murmurs against my lips.
“Me too,” I whisper, winding my arms around his neck to pull him back in.
The weeks of pent-up longing—of living in the shadows with nothing but his voice and stolen moments—break open into a flood of heat and light. The car becomes our sanctuary, a private world where our campaigns don’t exist.
We kiss until the air in the cabin turns thin. DK rests his forehead against mine, his breath blowing warmth on my cheeks. “Fuck… I missed you.”
I scratch his beard with my nails, loving the dense rasp of it. “We have the whole weekend to make up for lost time.”
He flashes a provocative grin, then shifts into drive and offers up his hand in an unspoken invitation. I slip mine into his, our fingers interlocking with a familiarity that can’t be measured in time.
As the car fills with amapiano, we resume that natural, fluid rhythm that’s carried us while we were apart. We talk about my farewell lunch, then bounce from topic to topic with no map, just whatever comes to mind. Even in the lulls, with only the music between us, our connection holds.
I watch him across the console—his profile lit by the fading sun, his tatted forearm flexing as his thumb taps against the wheel to the beat.
For a moment, I think about what he wants to tell me this weekend.
It’s probably tied to whatever happened in D.C.
He doesn’t talk much about those years—just that work came first. Everything else didn’t.
I’m anxious to learn more, to get to know him on a deeper level, but right now, I just want this.
“Celebrity trades,” I say. “Whoever you give up to bring someone back has to hurt.”
“Chris Rock for Bernie Mac.”
“You really gonna do Chris like that?” I balk.
“For Bernie? Every day.”
“That’s cold. I’ll go Mariah for Whitney.”
“Too easy. Kendrick Lamar for Prince.”
“Boy, I can’t with you. I love both.”
“You said it had to hurt. Beat that.”
Always up for a challenge, I think about it, wanting to give him a good one. “Miguel for D’Angelo,” I say with a triumphant smirk.
“Now you’re playing for real.”
“I got game,” I tease, then shift to Would You Rather: “Have the best kiss of your life and never be kissed again, or… have a lifetime of mediocre kisses?”
He briefly takes his eyes off the road to glance over at me. “I’ve already had the best kiss of my life. You’ve ruined me for mediocre.”
“Oooh… okay. I love that answer.”
“Just giving you the truth,” he says. “Here’s one for you. Would you rather have an endless supply of fine chocolate and bad sex… or a lifetime of mind-blowing sex and never have chocolate again?”
“Basically, you’re asking me to choose between you and Godiva.”
“And that’s hard?”
“I’m hoping it will be.” I walk my fingers up his thigh. “You’ve got a thirsty woman on your hands who expects to give and get plenty of orgasms this weekend.”
“I’m on duty. All day… and night.”
“I should’ve brought a bell.”
“Just call my name, and I’ll be there.”
My mouth twists wryly. “You did not just quote The Jackson Five.”
He has the nerve to wink, then make me melt by lifting my hand to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to my knuckles. Hot and sweet—the most lethal combination.
“We’re almost there,” he says some minutes later, trading the freeway for a quiet, narrow road. It winds in tight curves, the trees crowding close, until the forest breaks away and the lake comes into view.
The water is a mossier green than the bright blue of Bayside in summer.
Grove Cove sits on a smaller, remote lake.
We pass two houses spaced over a mile apart before we come upon a luxury two-storey home that’s all cedarwood and glass.
DK steers the Audi up the paved driveway and cuts the engine.
The solitude is instant, echoing in the sudden, ringing silence.
“Wow,” I say, my jaw dropping as I take it all in. “I was expecting a rustic cabin.”
“Neo doesn’t do rustic,” he says with affection for his brother. “Ready to check it out?”
“Definitely.”
He grabs our bags, and we climb the steps to a sprawling wraparound deck.
DK punches in a code—repeating the numbers for me—and lets us inside.
The foyer spills into a high-ceilinged great room surrounded by tall windows.
It’s modern and open, dressed in muted earth tones.
Expensive furniture, but the thick pillows and soft throws say it’s built for comfort.
I kick off my wedge sandals and gaze up at him. My shades now tucked into my tote, our eyes finally meet without a filter. He looks so good in tan linen shorts and an off-white cabana shirt. More casual than his suit and pocket square, but still him. “We’re really here.”
He toes off his shoes and pauses, the duffles still in his hands. “That sounded heavy.”
“It is. But not in a bad way. I’m just… feeling the moment.” I step to him and wrap my arms around his waist. “I’m happy.”
The tightness in his features eases. “Let’s get these bags upstairs. You can pick dinner. I ordered a few things I thought you’d like. Then—” he nips my bottom lip, “I’ll get started on filling that orgasm quota.”
I lick the sting and follow his fine ass up the stairs, with no intention of waiting until after dinner.