“Yeah, single. Not celibate,” he retorted. “You look gay.”

And then he turned around again, disappearing out the door.

I rubbed my hand down my face, feeling the back of my neck break out in a sweat.

Jesus Christ. Why was this so complicated?

Why was everything so complicated?

I didn’t want the Senate handed to me on a silver platter – I’d planned to work, and I was proud of my platform – but these fucking games… who I dated, what I wore, orchestrating fake photo ops with my kid, who happened to hate me, just so we appeared to have a close family… All of it was bullshit.

I knew CEOs who wrote off prostitutes on their taxes, politicians whose kids were on drugs, and civil projects funded by gangsters. All of these people put on masks to offer a clean, well-put-together appearance that was nothing but a complete lie.

I wanted the job, but I didn’t like pretending I was something I wasn’t, and I didn’t want to lose my freedom.

There was nothing wrong with me. I shouldn’t have to change.

I picked up the coffee Corinne had set on my desk and walked over to the wall of windows, staring out at the city.

My city.

The mighty Mississippi sat like the breath of life not far in the distance, busy with its fleets of cargo ships and tugboats as it calmly flowed past the convention center, St. Louis Cathedral, and the French Market.

I sipped the black coffee, strong and bitter the way I liked it, and noticed the storm clouds in the distance, rolling in from south of the river.

My city.

Life existed in every inch of it. Between the flowers and moss that popped out of the concrete sidewalk slabs, the chipped paint decorating the shops on Magazine Street, and the musicians strumming their guitars in the Quarter, there was so much I never wanted to change.

And so much I did.

That’s why I wanted to be in a position to give back and effect change in this city.

But I didn’t want to play by Jay’s rules. There were sides of me that I certainly didn’t want in the spotlight but that I didn’t want to hide either.

Like the part of me that had wanted to keep fighting her yesterday.

I narrowed my eyes, staring off out the windows.

I hadn’t meant to come off as such a dick, but she’d made me nervous. She wasn’t exactly approachable – not anymore, anyway – and her disdain was thick from the moment she’d walked into the room and seen me.

She acted like she hated me, and I wasn’t sure why I cared.

After Christian had been bugging me time and again about the damn phone, I’d finally had enough and decided, on a whim, to go in and deal with it. I’d intended to make an appointment, but then Shaw – who I’d gathered at the open house was a major kiss-ass – insisted on handling it now to appease me.

I’d waited, and when she’d walked into the room, her long brown hair spilling around her, I could barely handle it.

All I could remember was that same rich hair cascading down the smooth skin of her back as I followed her out to the balcony that night.

God, she was beautiful.

I didn’t care that we were fighting this morning, or that she looked furious with me. She was passionate, and if we’d been in my office instead, that meeting would’ve ended differently.

I glanced over at my black leather couch, imagining what she would look like on it.

She wouldn’t be easy.

In fact, I had a strange feeling it would be like high school, and I’d feel like I’d scored if I just got my hand up her shirt.

But that was wishful thinking. I couldn’t touch her.

Not that she wouldn’t try to resist me anyway – the dynamics of our relationship had changed – but there was no way I could risk hurting my son or thwarting my ambitions.

Tyler Marek Seduces Son’s High School Teacher.

Yeah, the headlines would sink me, and Jay would have a meltdown.

Brynne, Christian’s mother, would cut me off from my son, and Christian would never forgive me. Our relationship was already teetering on the edge, and he only needed an excuse.

So why didn’t knowing any of that make her less desirable?

I opened the oven, grabbing the pot holder and taking the plate out of the warmer. Mrs. Giroux, the housekeeper, had been great about picking up cooking as one of her duties since Christian had come to live here. She had meals waiting for us daily, but even though I tried not to, I did miss dinner once in a while.

Christian and I had eaten together probably five times in the last three weeks. On occasion it was my fault. Something popped up, or I’d been running late, but more times than not Christian avoided me.

He spent time with friends, choosing to eat at their house, or he’d scarf down his dinner before I got home. He was about as distant as his teacher.

I made my way down the marble hallway, carrying my plate, napkin, and a bottle of beer, past the columns to my office, but I stopped, hearing laughter coming from the media room.

“No, dude!” someone shouted while another kid laughed. “Look at these pictures! We should print those.”

I narrowed my eyes, turning to the right and inching toward the room.

“Shit. Vince just tweeted,” I heard Christian say. “Aw, that’s sick! I wonder if this house is still around. Get on Google Earth.”

My mouth tilted in a smile, hearing his excitement. Google Earth? Well, at least it wasn’t porn.

I set the food down on the small table next to the double wooden doors leading to the room and pushed a door open, peering inside.