Chapter 4
I stood at the oasis of overpriced champagne and hors d'oeuvres with a perfect view of Treason. There was no escaping the great young hope in Madison Pointe. Even for people living under a rock like me, Treason’s reputation preceded him.
He shared his humble beginnings, raised by a single mother on a teacher’s salary, with a room full of people.
Most of them never witnessed that level of adversity, so they didn’t fully understand the significance of him on stage.
Treason challenged the room to open their wallets and make a donation to the Langston Foundation.
If not for their generosity, he might not be here.
Not even his tapered fade and soft waves could’ve carried Treason to these heights.
Treason’s grin was the hook, and he knew when to cast it to get the best result.
I pulled away from the rouse, reminding myself why I was here.
The lustful stares and light touches were annoying, but they came with the game.
I maneuvered the room, picking my next spot.
Then Zora Taylor’s laugh took over the room.
She had old money, the kind she wouldn’t notice if some went missing.
Easing across the room where she was half drunk, I tipped her Hermes so I could graciously pick it up.
“Oh my!” she huffed, a hand on her chest. “Thank you so much.”
“You’re welcome.”
“What is a gorgeous woman like this doing here ?” she asked, flailing her arms in a circle.
A second voice chimed in before I could reply. “Don’t you just hate when someone looks that good without trying? I might have to call my surgeon in the morning.”
Zora smirked, “Girl, don’t waste the consultation fee. Even the best surgeon can’t turn that into this ,” joking before she took another sip of her drink.
Another narrowed her gaze, while tapping the side of her flute, “You look familiar. Do I know you from somewhere?”
A third voice entered, whispering, “A strip club, maybe.”
If I sacrificed my career to support my husband’s. Then, nursed him through colon cancer, only for him to get an intern pregnant, I’d be resentful as fuck too. Especially if I were raising him as our godson, whom we love as our own.
But she needed to direct it elsewhere. “Or an internship. Isn’t that where your husband met his side bitch.”
Zora let out an actual laugh, and the others followed suit.
Now she was glaring at me and clinging to her champagne flute.
Moving on to my next boring conversation, I stayed longer than intended because my card skimmer was moving slowly.
After another lap around the room, I was ready to call it a night.
Sauntering through the ballroom, I couldn’t wait to peel this dress off and shower.
Then I heard Treason’s voice, and my stride slowed as I listened to their measured discussion regarding Douglas Barbey’s business venture.
“I’m not asking you to reinvent the system,” Treason explained. “I’m offering a solution. Take the pressure off hospitals and insurance providers. Wearable monitors offer real-time data. Preventative care. Early alerts. It keeps people alive and costs less. Everyone wins.”
Barbey sipped his drink, unimpressed. “Sounds like a tech charity and a big gamble. Where’s the profit?”
Treason’s hand clenched inside his pocket while bringing the whiskey to his firm lips. It was all smoke and mirrors to mask his irritation. Somehow, I saw it the same way he saw mine earlier.
That was my cue.
“I wouldn’t call keeping people alive a gamble,” I said smoothly.
Both men turned. Barbey raised an eyebrow while Treason didn’t flinch.
“And you are?” He asked.
“Someone who knows the system is overdue for a shift. People are walking around with unmonitored conditions and no access to care. Your devices would change that.”
Treason’s lips twitched, trying not to smile. “She’s got a point.”
“You two together?” Barbey grunted, adjusting his cufflinks.
“No.” We rushed out in unison.
Treason recovered first, explaining how upfront funding would generate profit in the long run. His facts and my charm made Barbey double his original offer. Then he scurried away before we could hit his pockets again.
Treason turned to me, one brow raised, “I don’t like being cut off when I’m speaking.”
I smirked, “You sound upset that I did your job better than you.”
“We did make a good team,” he complimented.
“ That was a favor . I work alone.”
That made Treason laugh—a real one. Deep and rough, like he didn’t laugh often.
“What made you change that for me?”
“You were drowning. I didn’t want your ego to take two hits in one night,” I said, flashing a smile.
“You are beautiful. No one can deny that,” his eyes scanned my face slowly raking over my body while my irritation grew, “but your mind,” he added, voice dropping as it reached my ear, “turns me on a lot more.”
His coily beard stretched across his face, smirking. It was mostly peppered, but sprinkles of wisdom were scattered throughout. Treason knew his confidence kidnapped my response, so he grabbed my hand.
“Come protect my ego on the dance floor.”
“I don’t dance,” I replied, snatching my hand back.
As usual with a man on a mission, Treason didn’t let that stop him.
“I’m drowning again. You got me?”
My brain screamed for me to do something, but watching his hand on my hip was more entertaining.
Then it sprang into action, doing the one thing I didn’t expect.
Treason led us to the dance floor, his touch gentle and comforting.
His confident steps were evidence that he was used to leading one way or another.
That made being in his passenger seat that much easier.
“You have two left feet like a motherfucka,” he laughed, “I guess God had to keep you humble somehow.”
I drove my hand into his chest to shove him away, but failed.
“As if you know anything about humble. Treason is an ironic name for a politician, don’t cha’ think?”
His low laugh relaxed me into a comfortable two-step.
“Or Mama knew what I was destined for.”
“Do you have a rebuttal for everything?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“But somehow you couldn’t close that deal without my help.”
Treason’s eyebrows pinched, offended by my comment but not for the reason I thought.
“You met with Abdul earlier. Then, got Barbey to write me a fat ass check. You’re not just anybody.”
“So you’ve been watching me?”
When I pushed away, he pulled me back in, anticipating my need for space.
“Everybody in this room has been watching yo’ ass. I’m just man enough to say it to your face.” He said, wearing that charismatic grin that was plastered all over the city.
“Lucky me,” I groaned.
“I didn’t mean shit by it.”
“I’m not offended,” I lied, turning back to him, face cold as stone.
Treason smirked, “Shit, I was hoping you were.”
“Why?”
“Then I’d get the chance to make it up to you.”
Damn, he is good, but stay focused.
“Why would I give a man a chance to fix what he fucked up in the first place?”
Treason nodded, briefly taking in the room before circling back to me with a mocked salute.
“No second chances in this Navie . Got it.”
“There you go with that corny shit again.”
“I have more corny shit in my pocket. Let me take you to dinner so I can tell you about it.”
“Dinner?” I laughed, trying to hide the mania in my tone. “I don’t think so.”
He grinned, not losing hope. “Check me out. I make a mean reservation.”
“You're not my type.”
“And what type is that?”
I didn’t have a type, but if I did, Treason surely wouldn’t be it.
“This,” I replied, waving my hand in front of him.
“You don’t pull punches, do you?” His eyes flickered with amusement.
“No, but I will have a drink with you,” I suggested, guiding him to the champagne station.
“Sip slowly before you end up like Zora ,” he teased, watching her bump into a table on the far side of the room.
“If I’m ever that drunk at one of these functions, drag me out the door!” I laughed.
He tilted his head, intrigued enough to slide his hand inside mine, “Pour up, then.”
His confidence definitely deserved a drink.
It made a boring gala feel like a night off.
Even I could appreciate that. If Treason kept entertaining me leaving together would be an option.
I teased him about needing my help tonight, and his mouth lifted in a smile that should’ve come with a warning label.
He countered, letting me know he didn’t, but enjoyed it anyway.
Treason’s eyes seemed cryptic, stroking his beard. My brows knitted tight, eyes narrowing, trying to figure out why it was suddenly awkward.
“Watch it, one more look like that and I might let you get me pregnant.”
It was so stupidly unserious, a laugh rumbled from my chest. “What?”
“I’m just saying. She’s been begging for a daughter-in-law. It could be you.”
“I’m not the girl you bring home,” I whispered. “I’m the one your mama warned you to stay away from.”
Treason was too arrogant to heed my warning.
“She knows her son is hard-headed. Nothing would surprise her.”
His reply slid down my spine like warm liquor.
Treason brought the glass to his lips, sipped, and let the stem dangle between his fingers as the music swelled around us.
Politicians were usually easy to identify, but Treason Westbrook was sharper than most. A little colder and harder to distract, but more fun to play with.
That didn’t earn Treason a pass. I still had to protect myself, looking for any sign that the sedative I slipped in his drink kicked in.
The dosage was light, so I didn’t question his commanding posture.
He just needed more time. We worked the room, Treason becoming increasingly more comfortable with each conversation.
His touch took me someplace else, requiring more effort to pretend, but nothing got past Treason Westbrook.
He angled his body, creating a private moment to ask, You good?”
“Yeah, just hungry. The food here sucks.”
“I’m ready to go anyway. C’mon, let me feed you,” he insisted in a low drawl that made everything sound like a challenge and a promise all at once.
Treason didn’t wait for permission to lace his fingers inside of mine, guiding me through the crowded ballroom. I was smart enough to know he was no good, but there was no harm in enjoying him for the night. Men were usually only good for that long anyway.