That’s exactly what I wanted to do. If anyone found out, we’d be done, and I wasn’t ready.

I let out a sigh. “I can do whatever I want,” I replied, aware I sounded a little cocky.

She pursed her lips in a plotting smile. “I’m intrigued.”

“But not disappointed, I see,” I shot back.

“Psh.” She laughed and hopped off my desk. “I would be disappointed if I thought it would last.”

I narrowed my eyes, watching her walk back around the desk to the chair and pick up her jacket and handbag.

She cocked her head, looking coy. “But you, Tyler, are a bachelor for life,” she asserted. “I only hope you marry her. It’ll make our little interludes all the more fun.”

And with a confident smirk, she spun around and walked for the door, calling one last time over her shoulder, “You’ll call me when you’re done with your shiny new toy?” But she didn’t wait for an answer.

Swinging the door open, she disappeared, and I let my eyes fall closed as I pinched the bridge of my nose. I wasn’t quite sure if there was a man alive in this city who could match that woman’s set of balls.

“Jesus Christ,” I breathed out.

“Well, that was quick.”

I looked up to see my brother strolling back in, his attention half on me and half on his phone.

“She’d make a good politician’s wife,” he hinted. “No matter what, she always looks cheerful.”

I cocked an eyebrow and stood up, getting ready to sort through what I needed him to handle today.

Cheerful. And then I snorted, thinking how much that word and Easton would never go hand in hand.

My phone buzzed, and I immediately stopped, reaching into my top drawer for it.

Since Easton’s little lesson to all of my VPs the other day, I’d set out to prove her wrong by leaving my phone out of reach at certain times. There was no such thing as an information addiction. It was simply an excuse so she could manage attention in an easier way.

But when I saw a text from her, liquid heat rushed in my veins, and I couldn’t possibly ignore her like I did others when I was busy.

How many politicians does it take to change a lightbulb? she’d texted.

How many?

Two, she answered. One to change it, and one to change it back.

I laughed, causing Jay to peer up from his phone with an inquiring look.

Tweet that, she ordered.

I shook my head but did it anyway.

“What are you doing?” Jay pried as I clicked on my Twitter app and began typing.

“Tweeting,” I said in a low voice.

“Oh,” he said, sounding surprised. “Good. Your breakfast tweet earlier this week was exactly what I’ve been talking about. People eat that shit up.”

I finished the tweet, tossed my phone down on a pile of folders at the edge of my desk, and ran my hand through my hair.

“I need you to make sure Corinne has everything set up for the luncheon,” I told him, “and can you set up a conference call with Mexico City for one o’clock today?” I asked but didn’t wait for an answer as I grabbed a sheet from the printer, handing it to him. “Also, here’s the speech for the veterans benefit. I made some changes, so just look it over for me.”

I sat back down, straightening my tie and grabbing the remote. I turned on the TVs on the wall, a barrage of news stations coming to life and their chatter filling the room as I turned to my computer and jumped online.

Trying to organize my day to allow for more time for Christian was kicking my ass.

“Are you okay?” Jay asked.

“Where the hell are those deeds to that land in California?” I barked, ignoring him as I scanned my e-mails.

The lawyer was supposed to scan them and send them over, so we could get on the land, and I knew there were at least fifteen other fucking things I was forgetting to do.

“Corinne, get in here!” I shouted.

“All right, I’m outta here. I’ll take care of this,” I heard him say, holding up the speech I’d run through last night. “Is Tessa coming to the luncheon?”

“Yes, of course,” I answered. “She’s influential, isn’t she?”

“And Ms. Bradbury?”

I stopped, looking up at him and sitting back in my seat. How the hell did he know?

He smirked, shaking his head at me. “Give me a break, Tyler,” he scolded. “It was pretty clear you weren’t the one taking that picture of your breakfast, and judging by the sparks in your office last Saturday…”

He stood there, probably waiting for me to say something, but I didn’t.

Jay was younger, but I knew he never took it to heart that I was the boss. He liked working here and working with someone who took his bullshit.

Working together had never been a problem. Until now.

An average assistant would know their boundaries. A brother had none.

“Look,” he started, “I’m not saying you can’t —”

“That’s right.” I cut him off, nodding. “You’re not telling me anything.”

I let his expertise drive the invitations I accepted, the platform I created, as well as guide my campaign, but I would keep Easton separate.

It wasn’t that my brother didn’t have a right to ask. I just didn’t care to hear what I knew he would say.

“Tessa McAuliffe is our business,” I clarified. “Whoever I fuck is mine.”