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different. I can’t sleep with just anyone. And the
number of people I can trust, I can count on one hand. I have to be selective.”
    Her jaw softens as she swallows.
She’s coming back around.
    “I chose you, Camille,” I say.
“I saw you, and I chose you.”
    “You saw me?” She moves closer. “When? Where? Have we met?”
    “Now, you know I can’t tell you
any of that.”
    It’s a shame she sleeps with
men for money. Slap a pedigree on her and a last name like Lindhurst or Rockmund or Harringwood ,
and my mother would foam at the mouth for a chance to get her into the White
House.
    She presents with regal
elegance, but she lives to serve.
    I need to leave before this
conversation takes a dangerous detour. The last thing I need to worry about is
accidentally letting my guard down around her. She makes me comfortable, her
tranquil beauty instantly putting me at ease.
    “Camille, I’m going now.” I
rise from the bed, turning to cup her face in my hands. I taste her lips one
more time. A sweet farewell. “Thank you for a magnificent evening, and I’ll be
in touch with you soon.”
    She gifts me with a dispirited
half-smile, and I assume her mind is preoccupied with solving the puzzle I’ve
just presented.
    A woman like Camille Buchanan
has surely encountered an abundance of men vying for an ounce of her attention.
I’m just a man whose hidden gaze she dared to meet at a masquerade ball once
upon a time. She can rack that beautiful mind of hers all she wants, but she’ll
never figure it out.

 

FIVE

 
    Camille

 
    “This is too depressing.” Araminta reaches for the remote to shut off the TV. The
White House has interrupted our programming to bring us a special message from
the POTUS himself.
    “No, no.” I take it from her.
“We have to stay up on this. Being able to discuss foreign policy and the state
of the union is what separates us from the herd.”
    President Harris Montgomery
gives an update on a recent bombing in the Middle East. They all blend together
anymore, each one seeming to be worse than the one before.
    I listen intently as he
commands the airwaves, his forehead wrinkled and his lips turned down at the
corners as he maintains composure. He seems annoyed, and his speech feels
heartfelt this time, not written.
    Araminta pulls
in a shocked breath. “Twelve hundred civilians lost their lives.”
    “Montgomery wants us to go to
war,” I say as he rambles on.
    “Did he say that? I must have
missed it.”
    “You can tell,” I say. “He’s
leaning that way. He’s hinting. There’s always more in what they don’t say than
what they do.”
    She rises, shaking her head and
strutting to the kitchen. “I can’t listen to this anymore. You’re going to have
to give me the Cliffs Notes.”
    Araminta pulls
a pre-packaged, perfectly portioned meal from the fridge and heats it in the
microwave. Two minutes later, she picks through it with a fork as she floats
back down into her chair.
    Her eyes squint at the TV.
    “What are you doing?” I laugh.
    “I’m looking for his sons,” she
says between bites. “I’d rather stare at those fine specimens than listen to
this sad little spiel.”
    “They are beautiful.” I sigh.
For the longest time I thought they were twins. Everything about them almost matches,
from their lush, dark hair to their sapphire eyes. “Equally so.”
    “Oh, come on. One’s definitely
hotter than the other, at least by a hair.” She sweeps her blonde waves over
one shoulder, eyes wide. “ Keir has that mischievous
glint in his eye, like he’s full of secrets and ridiculously intelligent.”
    “But Ronan has that ultra-confident
look about him. I bet he’s sex-on-fire in the bedroom,” I say. “I don’t think I
could pick if I had to.”
    “I’d give up this game for a
chance with one of them. I’d retire so hard.” She giggles.
    I join her in her quest to find
them in the background. They’re always there, suited up and wearing