Читать книгу Sins Of The Flesh - J. Margot Critch - Страница 10

CHAPTER ONE

“WHEN YOU LOOK at a man like Rafael Martinez, you can see he’s really got it all. Being male, rich, influential. He knows the right people, and he knows how to strike a deal,” Jessica Morgan said on television, as if she was looking through the camera, directly at Rafael as she spoke his name. “But the people of Las Vegas need, deserve, a mayor who is attuned to the needs of their community. Someone who understands the housing and welfare issues we face. I do. I’m running for mayor to help the people, the women and children who need someone to protect them and their rights. I want a more accountable, community-focused city council—”

Rafael bit back a curse and hit Mute on the remote control. So, he could still see the beautiful woman on the large flat screen in his living room, but not hear her slanderous words.

“Well, she isn’t exactly wrong,” Alex Fischer, his best friend said, smiling, from the couch. “You are male, rich and influential, and you know how to strike a deal.”

Rafael glared at him, but didn’t respond.

Alex relented, and leaned back casually. “Okay, so where did she even come from? And why does she have it out for you?”

“Jessica’s been a city councillor for two years, since the last election, and she’s been involved in community issues from the start. But with a few exceptions when we haven’t seen eye to eye on certain issues, she’s always been fairly quiet, and no one expected her to announce her candidacy.” Rafael had thought her intention to run was a joke at first. He thought he’d be the hands-down successor to Mayor Thompson, and he had been just as surprised as everyone else when she’d become his opposition.

“So, she just up and decides to run for mayor?” Alex asked skeptically. “There has to be more to the process than that.”

Rafael shook his head. “She only has to submit an application, have the money, campaign her ass off and hope to win. And guessing by the amount of press she’s been getting, she is definitely doing that. And get this—she actually crowdfunded the money for her campaign. And raised lots.”

“Are you kidding? And what’s her problem with you? She clearly isn’t a fan.”

“No, she is not.” His entire life, it didn’t matter to him whether or not he was well liked. He was confident, secure enough to let the opinions of others, good and bad, roll off his back. He needed a thick skin to survive in politics. But he didn’t know why Jessica Morgan’s negative opinion of him dug at him. They’d had some friendly enough interactions in the past. But now the stakes had never been higher for him. The woman who was bad-mouthing him was his only opposition for the job he wanted, the job that was rightfully his.

“You got me. All I can think is that she wants to win. I’m the only other candidate, the one she has to beat,” he said bitterly, recalling the slight dip in his approval rating since Jessica’s entrance in the campaign. “She’s got her fighting gloves on.”

“So, what are you going to do about her? She can do a lot of damage to your campaign, talking about you like that. The last thing you need is to be portrayed as just another rich, elite asshole,” Alex, who was also his campaign manager, needlessly reminded him.

“You think I don’t fucking know that?” Rafael said, looking toward the screen at Jessica as she still spoke, now muted.

But Rafael wasn’t just another rich, elite asshole. Hell, everything that Rafael had ever achieved, he’d worked his ass off for it. Every luxury he’d been afforded—the opulent home, the fast cars—were a direct result of the blood, sweat and tears that he poured into everything he undertook. Ever since he was a kid, his parents, Mexican immigrants who’d come to America for a better life, had instilled in him the knowledge that hard work begot success. And it was that belief that fueled his ambition in his business ventures and drove his political bid to be mayor of Las Vegas.

But he wasn’t going to stop there. With his best friends and business partners—The Brotherhood, as they called themselves—at his back, he’d be unstoppable. Alex and their other friend Brett were local real estate moguls who ran one of the city’s biggest firms. Gabe was one of the city’s prominent lawyers and the group’s legal expert. Alana, The Brotherhood’s only female member, was a talented interior designer who also managed the group’s various clubs and restaurants. Political influence was Rafael’s contribution to the group. Together, they owned some of the most lucrative businesses in the city, and they were constantly looking to expand.

He turned away from Alex and gazed out the glass door to his backyard, looking past the hot tub and the pool, out at the darkened sky of Las Vegas, where the lights of the Strip and downtown beckoned to him. But if he looked beyond the lights, the glitz, the glamor, that Las Vegas was known for, he could see the rest of the city, full of the people he wanted to help. The people who, like his parents, had built homes and lives in the inhospitable, scorching desert, and sometimes struggled, working toward the American dream. Despite what Jessica Morgan thought she knew about him, he wanted to be the mayor of the people. He had the ideas, he had the connections, he had the money, and it wasn’t just his ego driving him. Rafael just wanted to make a difference in the world. And for him, business growth that benefitted everyone in the local economy was a key way to do that.

But his career path went much further than that. He not only wanted to help elevate the people of Las Vegas, but deep down, he really wanted to help the people of the state of Nevada, and then America as a whole. He looked around his home, and while it was lavish and contained every comfort he could ever imagine, it wasn’t enough; the money wasn’t enough for him anymore. He’d set his sights high, and since he was a child, he’d dreamed of someday sitting in the Oval Office, being the commander-in-chief, leading the country, making decisions for the betterment of everyone in America, no matter who they were, working with other world leaders to make the world a better, safer, cleaner place. It would be tough, a lot of hard work, but Rafael was ready. He’d been preparing all his life for the battle and would take it head-on. There was only one thing standing in his way at that moment—Jessica Morgan.

He turned around, and his eyes narrowed as they zeroed in on the television once more, on Jessica Morgan’s heart-shaped face, her green eyes, pouty lips. Her smooth, creamy skin that his fingertips itched to caress, and her light brown wavy hair, which was lightened throughout and at the ends with honey-colored highlights. Her message was one of equality, of everyone having a place at the table, and while he admired that message, he’d yet to hear her plan of how to accomplish it. As far as he was concerned, as idealistic as her message was, she was all talk.

But not only was she a bleeding heart, Jessica was a beautiful woman. Rafael couldn’t deny that. She dressed conservatively, but the suits and high-collared shirts actually put more of her delicious curves on display than they hid, and that could easily drive a man to distraction. There were more times than he’d care to admit in the past two years, sitting across from her at council meetings, when he’d found himself preoccupied, wondering what she must look like under all the layers of clothing, or how her light brown hair would feel tangled around his fingers as his mouth took hers. He’d been called out several times already, not paying attention at public events because he was thinking about her pink lips wrapped around his cock...

“She’s good-looking.” Alex’s observation broke through his thoughts, and he turned around to face his friend.

Rafael nodded, but didn’t respond. It wasn’t just her looks or raw sex appeal, Jessica had already proven herself to be strong, intelligent, passionate and one hell of a competitor. If the first few weeks of her campaign was any indication, he was in for a fight. It was imperative that he forget how good the woman looked and renew his focus on winning. He turned back to Alex, and saw his friend watching him.

“And that obviously didn’t escape you,” Alex noted. “Did Harris find out anything about her?” he asked, referring to the private investigator Rafael had hired to help him gain an edge in the mayoral race.

“I’m expecting him over here any minute now,” Rafael told him. “He’s been on her since the day she entered the race. That’s why I called you over tonight. Apparently, he’s got a bombshell to drop, and as my campaign manager and closest brother, I wanted you here for it.” Alex might not have been his brother by blood, but since they were children, they’d been inseparable. All the members of The Brotherhood were close, but he and Alex shared a special bond.

Alex walked over to the wet bar and, helping himself to some of Rafael’s good stuff, poured himself a couple of fingers of bourbon. “Sounds juicy. Want a drink?”

Rafael refused. “No, I need to stay sharp for tomorrow. I’ve got a luncheon with little old church ladies, probably shouldn’t go in reeking of booze.”

With a shrug, Alex sipped. “You don’t know how some of those little old church ladies like to party.” He snickered. “But you have fun with that. You have no idea what Harris wants to talk about?”

“No. He wouldn’t tell me what it was until he was 100 percent certain, and he didn’t want to do it over the phone.” He grimaced at being told to wait. Rafael wasn’t exactly the patient sort. “But I’m definitely intrigued. It sounds like he’s got something big.”

As if on cue, the doorbell chimed. Rafael smiled and walked out of the room to the door. He opened it, and Harris, his trusted PI, stood on the other side. He moved aside and let the man in.

“Tell me you’ve got something good,” he said, as the two of them joined Alex in the living room.

Harris smiled. “Tell me if this is good,” he said, as he passed over a brown envelope. Not wasting any time, Rafael opened it. His eyes widened with what he saw in the enlarged photos; the lighting might have been low in them, but they were of excellent quality. “I’ll email these to you, too.”

He turned to Harris. “Are these legit? Is it her?”

“I saw her with my very own eyes,” the PI confirmed. “Last weekend in San Francisco, she was there, live and in person.”

“What do you have there?” Alex asked, coming up behind him.

He passed over the photos to Alex, and smiled. “I think I just won this election.”

* * *

Jessica Morgan leaned back in her chair. Now that the camera was off, she was finally able to relax. Despite the late hour, the live interview had gone well, and she hoped that it would help to raise her approval rating against Rafael Martinez. Jessica had come home exhausted after a long workday and still needed to pack for San Francisco; but when Tanya Roberts, the LVTV political reporter, had called requesting an interview to fill some time in their nightly broadcast, Jessica had no choice but to agree. She didn’t have the resources her competitor did; she didn’t have a ton of money to pour into television ads or flashy billboards. Along with her social media presence, and arranging informal meet and greets, she had to take advantage of any opportunity available to get her message out there.

“Thank you, Jessica,” Tanya said, leaning forward and shaking her hand.

“Anytime, thank you for making time for me.” Jessica took a swallow from her nearby water bottle. Her nerves were slowly waning. She was more comfortable with some types of performances than others. Public speaking was never her forte, but since she’d taken her place on city council, she was getting better. “I was pretty excited when Gordon came to me with the message from your office. I’ll take any free publicity I can get.” Her campaign manager had been ecstatic.

“Speaking of, how is the crowdfunding going?”

“Excellent,” Jessica told her. She’d started raising money just after announcing her candidacy. “The response has been better than I could have imagined. I certainly wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for the people who have contributed, volunteered. This is a group effort, for sure.”

“And how’s the campaigning going?”

“Really well,” Jessica told her. “I’m kind of exhausted all the time, there’s a lot of work to be done, but I expected that. But it’ll all be worth it once the ballots are counted.”

“I’m sure it will. Good luck with the campaign.”

“I really appreciate the support, thank you so much.” Jessica stood, covertly checking her watch. It was almost 11:00 p.m., and even though she had a lot to do before bed, she was still glad she’d agreed to the interview.

Seeing Tanya and her cameraman to the door, Jessica said her goodbyes, and when she closed the door, she leaned against it, letting out a deep, tired sigh. She still felt a nervous excitement flicker through her system, the same one that always did the day before a performance. All that stood between her and a stage was packing her bag, getting a couple hours’ sleep and a short flight to San Francisco. And then she’d finally be able to fully relax, after burning off all the energy and tension she’d been carrying around since her performance last week. She knew from experience that the only effective way to dispel the stress was to get on a stage...or a hot guy, she mused, letting her thoughts flitter and linger on her opponent, Rafael Martinez, and his dark, supermodel good looks.

She shook her head; neither was an option at the moment. Certainly not within the city limits of Las Vegas, and definitely not while she was campaigning to be its mayor.

And certainly never with Rafael Martinez.

When she won, she knew she’d have to say goodbye to the stage. She would be under the microscope, and there was no way she’d be able to keep her other career a secret. So, as much as it pained her, and no matter how much she loved dancing, she had to stop.

Despite her ambitions, the prospect of a new life left her frustrated and tense. With no way to dance or have sex, to have a physical release tonight, a glass, or a bottle, of wine and her trusty vibrator would have to do. Jessica walked to the kitchen and dug out a bottle of wine from the cupboard. She poured a glass and brought it to the living room, then flopped down on the couch, turning on the TV to the news program that had just aired her live interview. But the first thing she saw was Rafael Martinez’s face. Frustrated, she groaned. She just couldn’t escape him.

Rafael was tall, dark and handsome, sexy, muscular, smart—just how she liked her men. It was a fact she’d tried to ignore in the past, but it was harder now in the throes of the campaign, seeing his face, hearing his name, at every turn. But she couldn’t entertain thoughts of being attracted to the man. He was the enemy. He stood for everything she was against, and she needed to get him out of her head in order to concentrate on the job in front of her.

Despite herself, Jessica grabbed the remote, and instead of turning the TV off, she increased the volume. Even so, she could barely hear his words through the lust that clouded her senses. Essentially, she knew what he was saying, the same things politicians always talked about—growth, industry, lowering crime yada yada yada, the things that would gain him favor with his friends in the business community. Rafael talked a good game, though, she had to admit. He was smart, passionate, smug...gorgeous, drop-dead sexy, with his muscles that bulged and tensed through his dress shirts, his dark eyes that bore into those of whoever he was talking to, the full lips that parted to reveal straight, white teeth. His firm jawline, his nose straight, cheekbones high. It all combined to make him one irresistible man. If only he wasn’t so egotistical, stubborn, condescending, sexy...

The front door opened and closed, the noise startling her, forcing her to jerk back from the television. Fumbling for the remote to turn off the TV, she dropped it, but in the process, she’d paused it.

“Girl, you will not believe the date I just had,” her roommate and best friend, Ben, told her as he walked into the living room. He stopped and looked at Jessica, taking in her flushed complexion and jagged breaths. Cocking his head to the side, he laughed. “What are you doing? You look like I just caught you in the middle of a little downstairs DJ.” He moved his fingers in small circles, mimicking the movements of working a turntable, but making a not-so-innocent implication.

Jessica tossed a throw pillow at him and leaned back on the couch. “Oh, shut up,” she muttered, before she laughed. “Okay, what happened on your date? Was he cute?” She hoped to change the topic.

“He was extremely cute, a fireman, but dumb as a post. He thought that alfresco was the name of the guy who owned the restaurant,” he answered, grabbing her glass from the coffee table and taking a sip of her wine. Then he nodded at the television, where the picture of Rafael, his perfect white smile, and those deep dimples, were frozen on the screen. “But, baby girl, I want to know what’s got you looking so flushed here alone on the couch. Is it Mr. Martinez? He is certainly tasty.”

“No,” she said too quickly. “It’s not him. You know, Ben, I’m not like you, I can control myself even around the most marginally good-looking guy.” She stood.

Ben gestured to the TV. “Marginally good-looking? Look at this guy. I just wish he played for my team.”

“Well, maybe you should sleep with him, then. But I’m going to bed. I’ve got to pack, I have to be on an early flight to San Francisco tomorrow morning.”

“Aww, you’re heading there again?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“I get so lonely on the weekends when you’re gone. Why go to San Fran every weekend? There are strip clubs in Vegas, you know. That way I wouldn’t have to miss you all the time.”

“You know I can’t risk dancing here. I can see the headlines now, Las Vegas City Councillor and Mayoral Hopeful Bares All Onstage!” She took her glass back from Ben. “And with the way the media have been following Rafael and me around, it would definitely get out.”

“But what about when you get closer to the election? I assume you’ll be hanging up the clear heels and the G-string for the glamour of the mayor’s sash, or are you going to be America’s first mayor-slash-exotic dancer?”

She laughed. “You know I don’t own any clear heels. I’m not embarrassed of my career. I love absolutely every moment onstage. I’ll miss it when it’s over. But you know this city as well as I do.” To tourists, Las Vegas could be considered more of a risqué city, but she knew that outside the famed Strip, the desert city more or less leaned conservative, and voters would not approve of her side job. She knew it was a risk to dance even now, but going out of state helped, and the money she earned helped with her campaign expenses. “So, it’s time to leave it all behind. I knew that I couldn’t dance forever. And there are things I need to do. It’s time to focus my attention on helping people, and making the city better. I’ve got to be the change I want to see in the world.”

“Trade the pole for a podium.”

“Exactly. I’ll miss the money, though,” she said. But that wasn’t it. Early on, stripping had been a way for her to make money and pay for college. But eventually, she realized she had a great flair for it. After a lot of hard work, she became well-known around the country for her skills with the pole. Being onstage was an empowering, fun, great exercise and she was extremely good at it, and high in demand. “You want to come with?”

“Nah, I’ve got another date with Mr. Cute-but-Dumb-as-a-Post. I just might invite him over, take advantage of having an empty house.”

“Remember the pants-on-in-the-kitchen rule,” she reminded him.

“That’s your rule, not mine. But seriously, though, what’s your plan for how you’re going to beat him?”

“I’m going to beat him by being the best candidate.”

Her roommate looked at her skeptically. “Is that going to be good enough? Why don’t you let me talk to some people...see if we can dig up a little dirt on him.”

“What people do you know?”

“I know people who know people.”

She shook her head. “I don’t think so. I don’t want to win with underhanded tricks.”

“You think Rafael Martinez doesn’t know any underhanded tricks? I’m just saying that maybe you’ll find out something interesting about him.”

“I don’t know,” Jessica said, leaning in to give her friend a kiss on the cheek. “Sounds sketchy. I’ve really got to get ready now, though. I’ll see you on Sunday.”

“Bye, baby girl, have fun in San Francisco.”

“I intend to.”