me laugh," he said.
"Sure. Every time you toss me to the floor, you're
grinning."
"Get your swimsuit, lightweight. We'll go to the
spa."
"Where's your suit?" I demanded.
"I'm wearing it under my jeans."
"Of course you are."
"You should call me Rafe," he added.
"Of course I should."
* * *
Complete proof that everybody listened to everything going on in
the Mansion waited for us when we arrived at the huge hot tub connected to the
gym. Even James was there, grinning like a fool and scooting over so I could
sit next to him.
Rafe the rat sat between us.
"You stopped in the middle of a paragraph," James
said, forcing me to lean around the mountain sitting next to me so I could
reply.
"I stopped for lunch. Which he ate," I poked Rafe in
the ribs.
"You had more. I wouldn't have eaten all your tinned
soup." He took my fingers from his ribs and set them in my lap.
"Really?" I made a face at Rafe. At least six women
lined the other side of the spa, and all of them ogled him. James, who was fit
enough, looked like a ninety-pound-weakling next to Rafe. All six of those
women will serve you soup—at the same time , I thought in his direction.
At least hot, bubbling water hid my hand as I poked him in the
ribs a second time. He covered it by turning to James and asking how he might
get access to my books as I wrote them. James offered to send him what he had.
I slapped a wet hand against my forehead. Rafe laughed.
* * *
Running three miles at six in the morning was bad enough. What
made it worse was that a light rain fell as I ran. Becker lapped me twice, just
to prove he could. The last time he passed me, one of his hands snaked out and
shoved me. Waving my arms helplessly when he knocked me off balance, I fell in
rain-soaked grass and mud with a splash and a grunted oof . Muttering
obscenities, I struggled to rise while Rafe ran right past, his steady stride slurping
up mud and flinging wet droplets about him. I watched him run for a moment
before pulling myself from the slop I'd landed in.
* * *
Ilya
I ran at a steady pace behind Becker, content to let him have
the lead. He was happiest thinking he was in charge of every situation. I
allowed him his fantasies—until he shoved Corinne into the mud.
That's when I caught up with him.
Waiting for an opportunity, I held back until he was prepared
to pass one of the brothers, then burst between them, making sure Becker went
down. I smiled as he shouted names in my direction.
* * *
Corinne
"Are you packed?" Rafe drank coffee as I walked into
the kitchen. I was still sore, but the whirlpool sessions helped. Today was the
day we were heading to Camp David. I didn't want to go. At least I wasn't
expected to run or have a Krav Maga lesson.
"Yes," I grumbled.
"You're not dressed to go."
"It's a Freudian slip."
"Looks like a bathrobe to me."
"You're so funny," I mocked. "I want coffee
first, so I can be wide awake and miserable, instead of half-asleep and
miserable."
"Corinne?"
August had arrived.
"Auggie, please sit, have coffee and tell me everything
that I'm doing wrong today," I waved toward a barstool at the island.
"You, Rafe and the others will attend the meetings with
the President. Rafe will be within four feet always, while you will be nearby,
watching the others and taking notes."
"Physically taking notes?"
"That's what Cutter said."
"Cutter. Joy."
"Cori."
"Yeah."
"Rafe?" Dalton Parrish walked through the door
connecting Rafe's quarters with my kitchen.
"Dalton." Rafe sipped coffee and didn't look up.
Dalton repeated August's words to Rafe, and then to me. His eyes wandered over
me, too, as if he'd never seen a rumpled woman in her bathrobe before.
"Coffee?" Dalton asked. I made coffee for August,
Dalton and me. I drank in silence while the others talked—we'd be flying in
helicopters to Camp David. The choppers would arrive shortly, so I didn't have
a lot of time to get ready.
"Corinne, get in the shower," August said when I'd
finished half my
"Sure. Every time you toss me to the floor, you're
grinning."
"Get your swimsuit, lightweight. We'll go to the
spa."
"Where's your suit?" I demanded.
"I'm wearing it under my jeans."
"Of course you are."
"You should call me Rafe," he added.
"Of course I should."
* * *
Complete proof that everybody listened to everything going on in
the Mansion waited for us when we arrived at the huge hot tub connected to the
gym. Even James was there, grinning like a fool and scooting over so I could
sit next to him.
Rafe the rat sat between us.
"You stopped in the middle of a paragraph," James
said, forcing me to lean around the mountain sitting next to me so I could
reply.
"I stopped for lunch. Which he ate," I poked Rafe in
the ribs.
"You had more. I wouldn't have eaten all your tinned
soup." He took my fingers from his ribs and set them in my lap.
"Really?" I made a face at Rafe. At least six women
lined the other side of the spa, and all of them ogled him. James, who was fit
enough, looked like a ninety-pound-weakling next to Rafe. All six of those
women will serve you soup—at the same time , I thought in his direction.
At least hot, bubbling water hid my hand as I poked him in the
ribs a second time. He covered it by turning to James and asking how he might
get access to my books as I wrote them. James offered to send him what he had.
I slapped a wet hand against my forehead. Rafe laughed.
* * *
Running three miles at six in the morning was bad enough. What
made it worse was that a light rain fell as I ran. Becker lapped me twice, just
to prove he could. The last time he passed me, one of his hands snaked out and
shoved me. Waving my arms helplessly when he knocked me off balance, I fell in
rain-soaked grass and mud with a splash and a grunted oof . Muttering
obscenities, I struggled to rise while Rafe ran right past, his steady stride slurping
up mud and flinging wet droplets about him. I watched him run for a moment
before pulling myself from the slop I'd landed in.
* * *
Ilya
I ran at a steady pace behind Becker, content to let him have
the lead. He was happiest thinking he was in charge of every situation. I
allowed him his fantasies—until he shoved Corinne into the mud.
That's when I caught up with him.
Waiting for an opportunity, I held back until he was prepared
to pass one of the brothers, then burst between them, making sure Becker went
down. I smiled as he shouted names in my direction.
* * *
Corinne
"Are you packed?" Rafe drank coffee as I walked into
the kitchen. I was still sore, but the whirlpool sessions helped. Today was the
day we were heading to Camp David. I didn't want to go. At least I wasn't
expected to run or have a Krav Maga lesson.
"Yes," I grumbled.
"You're not dressed to go."
"It's a Freudian slip."
"Looks like a bathrobe to me."
"You're so funny," I mocked. "I want coffee
first, so I can be wide awake and miserable, instead of half-asleep and
miserable."
"Corinne?"
August had arrived.
"Auggie, please sit, have coffee and tell me everything
that I'm doing wrong today," I waved toward a barstool at the island.
"You, Rafe and the others will attend the meetings with
the President. Rafe will be within four feet always, while you will be nearby,
watching the others and taking notes."
"Physically taking notes?"
"That's what Cutter said."
"Cutter. Joy."
"Cori."
"Yeah."
"Rafe?" Dalton Parrish walked through the door
connecting Rafe's quarters with my kitchen.
"Dalton." Rafe sipped coffee and didn't look up.
Dalton repeated August's words to Rafe, and then to me. His eyes wandered over
me, too, as if he'd never seen a rumpled woman in her bathrobe before.
"Coffee?" Dalton asked. I made coffee for August,
Dalton and me. I drank in silence while the others talked—we'd be flying in
helicopters to Camp David. The choppers would arrive shortly, so I didn't have
a lot of time to get ready.
"Corinne, get in the shower," August said when I'd
finished half my
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