‘Suicide,’ she had said. ‘She better get used to it.’
‘Too late.’
She had been overwhelmed by his personal charm, a charisma that television never adequately captured. He was commanding, charming, friendly but formal, and she had watched him from across the room. Several times she had caught him staring back at her.
Thinking back on it, she knew now that it had been more than just Hotch. She had known commanding, charming, friendly, and formal men before, but never one who was going to run for president. It had been a challenge, no question about it. Yes, there had definitely been a challenge there.
What had Victor said? ‘ You are attracted by power.’ No, she thought, not really. She had known from the beginning that the benefits of power would be denied to her. From the beginning she had been a closet mistress. Nothing would ever have changed that. And there had been affection. But love? No, that was the delusion.
And so she too was relieved that it was over.
‘Hey,’ he said, snapping her back to the present.
‘Hey yourself.’
‘I said, did you really think about bedding me down right there in the middle of that cocktail party?’
‘Didn’t you?’
‘Didn’t I what?’
‘Think about laying me the first thing?’
‘Jib no, but —,
‘But you would now?’
‘I’ve got prior knowledge now.’
‘Hotch, if you met me in a restaurant right now, for the first time, what is the first thing that would go through your mind?’
‘You win.’
‘Thank you. Now you understand. I looked across the room at you and I said to myself “He’s going to be great in bed.”’
‘Why did you think that?’
‘I saw your hunger. Not for me, not for any other woman in the room. But you were hungry. And a powerful, hungry man is a powerfully good lay.’
He turned and looked down at her. The jacket had fallen open and he could see her breasts swelling against the cloth.
‘Did I disappoint you?’
‘Of course not. It was fun, like waking up a sleeping tiger. Oh, you were a little shy at first, but...’
She smiled and let the sentence drift away in the fog, then after a few moments she said, ‘You’ve been a very good lover.’
More silence. She moved again, this time against him, and he could feel the heat from her body through the jacket.
‘How long have we been lovers?’ he said.
‘Seven months this Thursday.’
‘Have you been marking the calendar?’
‘I never forget good things. It’s a lesson I learned from my dad. If you don’t expect anything from the world, everything you get is a surprise. And that makes the really good things that much better.’
‘He must’ve been a very wise man.’
‘Nope, he never kept a promise in his life. But . . he made some beauties, so he also taught me the value of dreaming.’
‘That’s a very generous way of putting it. What was he like?’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘You know, we’ve known each other for seven months and I don’t know a damn thing about your life away from me? I don’t even know your real name.’
‘You don’t like Domino?’
‘Well it always struck me as a bit melodramatic.’
‘Intriguing. I like intriguing. It’s a much better word.’
‘Okay, intriguing.’
‘Good. And that’s the way we’ll keep it.’
‘1, uh, I feel . . .‘
She sensed the awkwardness in his voice and held a finger to his lips.
‘Shh,’ she said. And then: ‘I want to make love to you. Right now. Because it’s something we both enjoy and
