“He gets feisty sometimes.”
Feisty, right.
My mind is instantly flooded with thoughts of just how “feisty” he got the other night when his hands were on my ass, bouncing me up and down his cock. I swallow hastily, trying to force the flush from my face.
Chet just chuckles in this affected, eye-rolling way as he sips the martini in his hand. “Oh, he’s just looking out for you.” He arches a brow at me, giving me what I’m sure he believes is his most charming smile. “Can’t say I blame the guy. If I had my way, I’d be looking all over you too.”
The thought of Chet looking at me anywhere close to the way Hudson does makes me nauseous, but I smile at him anyways as if I totally get what he’s saying.
“Say, you know speaking of which, I’ve been thinking a lot, Reagan.”
Shit. I think I know exactly where this conversation is headed, and it’s not one I really ever need to have with him.
“Chet, I-”
“No, now hang on now, Ray,” he puts his arm around my shoulders, and if we weren't surrounded by people and press, I’d already be pushing him off me and telling him where to stick it. But I know I’m supposed to behave myself, and after the near miss disaster of being found with Hudson in my damn bedroom, I feel like playing by the rules might be a good thing.
“You know-” Chet looks around before he leans close, “Can we talk somewhere a bit more private?”
I don’t even know what to say as he’s suddenly leading me to the side of the large ballroom and down a darkened hallway away from the crowds and music.
“Chet where are we goin-”
“Ray, baby, I just wanted to tell you I’m sorry you had to find out about that. Before I mean, about me and that staffer.”
I stare at him incredulously. “Wait, that’s your apology?” I almost want to laugh at how insanely cliche this guy is. “You’re sorry that I found out? Not that you were fucking one of your interns like some sort of politician cliche out of a movie-script?”
Chet smiles and nods his head patronizingly at me. “Now, let’s not be crude, Reagan. You know these sort of relationships sometimes just happen in politics.”
I roll my eyes. “No, Chet, I don’t know that.” But I’m also done having this conversation, and I just shake my head. “You know what, fine, apology accepted.”
I turn to leave, when I feel his hand grab my arm, tightly.
“Oh I’m so glad, Reagan.” He’s grinning that smarmy smile at me again, and I’m suddenly on edge. “I think we’re going to have a lot more luck the second time, I can feel it.” And then before I know what’s happening, he’s yanking me towards him and trying to kiss me.
I sputter and push away from him. “Chet!” I can feel my pulse racing, roaring in my ears like an engine as the adrenaline spikes. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
He’s still holding my arm, and he chuckles. “Oh, c’mon babe, don’t tell me you haven’t missed a little of the ole’ Chet magic.”
I open my mouth to say something but he just keeps going.
“You remember, Reagan, just like the old times huh?” He’s pressing me back against the wall behind me, and I’m feeling every inch of my skin crawl as my throat freezes up. He leans close, running his hand up the front of my dress and making me cringe in revulsion. “You look so tense, bab-”
In the blink of an eye, his arm is suddenly getting wrenched away from me and behind his back. There’s a snapping sound, and he’s screaming.
Hudson - Hudson - snarls like fucking wild animal as he brings his fist crashing down across Chet’s face, sending blood splattering from his nose as he cries out and drops to his knees on the ground. He’s holding his face and staring up at the utterly ferocious looking Hudson, and he’s screeching as Hudson’s fist crashes into his face again.
And then I’m yelling - screaming even - and suddenly there’s the sounds of running footsteps as security comes thundering around the corner.
Hudson snarls as two of them grab his arms. "Not me, you fucking idiots," he spits out, nodding towards the sniveling Congressmen on the ground cradling his limp arm as the blood pours down his face.
I can barely nod as they look at me for verification, feeling as though I’m moving in slow motion as Hudson shakes them free and jerks his head around to stare at me.
“Are you okay?”
“I- I-” I’m stammering, my mouth opening and closing without words.
“Reagan.”
Hudson’s voice is sharp, and I jerk my head to stare at him. “What?”