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Sins Of The Flesh
J. Margot Critch


When it comes to sexual politicsThey’re playing dirty!The mayorship of Las Vegas is down to two candidates, and Jessica Morgan is ready for a fight. Golden boy Rafael Martinez is a successful businessman—and a wickedly sexy egomaniac. He may be her opponent, but there’s something so irresistibly hot between them! Then all it takes is one little leaked sex tape to turn this election into a Sin City sensation…







When it comes to sexual politics

They’re playing dirty!

The mayorship of Las Vegas is down to two candidates—and Jessica Morgan is ready for a fight. Golden boy Rafael Martinez is a successful businessman...and a wickedly sexy egomaniac. He might be her opponent, but there’s something irresistibly hot between them! All it takes is one little leaked sex tape to turn this election into a Sin City sensation...

“DARE is Harlequin’s hottest line yet. Every book should come with a free fan. I dare you to try them!”

—Tiffany Reisz, international bestselling author


J. MARGOT CRITCH currently lives in St John’s, Newfoundland, with her husband, Brian, and their two little buddies Simon and Chibs. She spends equal amounts of time writing, listening to Jimmy Buffett’s music and looking out at the ocean—all the while trying to decide if she wants coffee or a margarita.


If you liked Sins of the Flesh why not try

My Royal Hook-Up by Riley Pine

Hard Deal by Stefanie London

Legal Passion by Lisa Childs

Discover more at millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk).


Sins of the Flesh

J. Margot Critch






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


ISBN: 978-1-474-07137-6

SINS OF THE FLESH

© 2018 Juanita Margot Critch

Published in Great Britain 2018

by Mills & Boon, an imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers 1 London Bridge Street, London, SE1 9GF

All rights reserved including the right of reproduction in whole or in part in any form. This edition is published by arrangement with Harlequin Books S.A.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, locations and incidents are purely fictional and bear no relationship to any real life individuals, living or dead, or to any actual places, business establishments, locations, events or incidents. Any resemblance is entirely coincidental.

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www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


For Michelle. You’ve been a constant source of knowledge and support, and I’m so proud to call you my mentor and friend.

This one is for every woman reading this who has ever been told to sit down, relax, be quiet, let the men handle it. It’s for every woman breaking down walls, smashing glass ceilings, fighting for her rights in an unfair system.

We’ve come a long way, baby. But we aren’t done yet.

Resist, persist, exist.

We’ll change the world.


Contents

Cover (#ubf57d02a-8784-5c0f-9b31-6d0bb531c92c)

Back Cover Text (#uad047013-3b59-5fd7-98d5-80ab445d9b8c)

About the Author (#u6bf36747-3426-5fa4-a7d9-be6112984025)

Booklist (#uc8c92f9c-5dc7-5193-a57d-38efc550bf03)

Title Page (#uc4a50357-9b0d-59bb-bf4f-ac4eecb8d040)

Copyright (#u8e295c1f-9a0d-528c-9d96-6c27fee75abd)

Dedication (#uacbd9885-2b11-5029-ad7f-4a19db60cc87)

CHAPTER ONE (#ude7e7161-049f-50f4-bbb5-80787ee5c862)

CHAPTER TWO (#u5bf00a52-f448-528d-a92d-c9cb36b5b64e)

CHAPTER THREE (#u9069dab8-5094-565a-b1a3-88096f9e810b)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u807d9af1-6bb0-5b8e-a1c7-5b97e407769c)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

About the Publisher (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE (#uc30fbee9-087d-519d-b624-e75c8c310c7a)

“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.”


CHAPTER TWO (#uc30fbee9-087d-519d-b624-e75c8c310c7a)

THE NEXT NIGHT, Rafael walked into Charlie’s Gentleman’s Club, which he’d learned was one of the classier strip clubs in San Francisco. The space was dark, like many nightclubs, and most of the light came from the stage, which was highlighted in yellow-and-red up-lights. A woman was on the stage, naked but for a G-string and a pair of platform heels, dancing to a classic rock song, and he watched her with some interest. He might have enjoyed the show more if he hadn’t been there strictly on business. The woman, though gorgeous and talented, wasn’t the woman he was there to see.

He stopped at the bar and ordered a beer, and turned around on the barstool to watch the stage. Charlie’s was not anywhere near as seedy as he’d imagined it would be. It was clean, hip and filled with mixed patrons who were all respectful and well behaved, as they took in a show and socialized.

From being in the nightclub business himself with Di Terrestres, The Brotherhood’s erotic members-only club, he knew that a safe and clean environment was the most important factor. Their club was a popular Las Vegas gathering place, an erotic playground for its exclusive clientele on every night of the week. They were the only thing like it in the city, and he was glad that he and his friends had clinched the market early on. Di Terrestres was the crown jewel of all their combined ventures and had proven to be their most profitable. In fact, being at Charlie’s in San Francisco felt kind of like being at Di Terrestres in Vegas, except that here, Rafael most certainly did not have the home court advantage. This was Jessica’s turf. But luckily, he had the element of surprise in his favor.

“Is Jessie M working tonight?” he asked the bartender over his shoulder.

She didn’t respond at first, probably not too eager to talk to a random man who was looking for one of the dancers, in particular. She rolled her eyes and went back to her work, serving other thirsty patrons. Rafael slid a fifty across the bar top.

“Is Jessie working?”

The bartender looked at it before picking it up and slipping it under the low neckline of her tank top, which was almost bursting at the seams with ample breasts. “She’s on in five minutes,” she answered.

“Sounds like I’m just in time, then,” he noted, and sipped his beer.

When the music quieted, Rafael turned back to the stage to watch the previous dancer leave, gathering her bills and clothing as she went. The buttery-voiced DJ came over the loudspeaker. “Everybody give Lola another big hand.” After a burst of clapping from the audience, he played some prelude music as he spoke over the beat. “And now, ladies and gentlemen, we have a special treat for you. We don’t see this lady perform here every day, but we love it every time she comes home. Tonight it is our pleasure to welcome, for one night only, the wonderful, sexy, award-winning, world-champion pole dancer, Jessie M, to our stage.”

World champion? He turned at the sound of the huge round of applause, toward the stage in time to see a Las Vegas councilwoman, his main political opponent, the opinionated thorn in his side, Jessica Morgan, Jessie M, take the stage as her music, with its fast, steady, driving hip-hop beat filled the club.

She was confident and graceful, her movements quick, trained, controlled, completely in time with the music. She was passionate as she moved about the edge of the stage, making eye contact with every patron in the first couple of rows. He knew the look. It was the same she gave when she spoke one-on-one with a person. Sure, her gaze was somehow just as intent, but it was more intimate from the stage than it was when she spoke to her constituents or colleagues. He knew the passion was there no matter what job she undertook. And to Rafael, that was admirable. She gyrated on the stage and removed the top of her stage costume, revealing a rhinestone-covered bra that pushed her already high and full breasts to an unbelievable level.

When she approached the pole in the middle of the stage, Rafael pushed away from the bar and walked closer; then he took a seat at an empty table next to the stage. He almost missed it when, in one quick spin, she was at the top of the pole. She wrapped her legs around it and inverted her body, holding herself aloft with just the strength of her thigh muscles, gripping the metal, while somehow managing to still spin. With careful, deliberate moves, she lowered herself down the pole. He bit back a groan, as she spun again and held herself by her arms as she performed moves of acrobatics and flexibility, as if it were as natural as breathing. Rafael was in great shape himself, but he wasn’t sure if he possessed the sheer strength that Jessica was exhibiting onstage while she worked the pole.

As he watched her, he felt his temperature rise as a flush of desire broke out all over his body. She might be his political rival. He might have gone to San Francisco to bust her. But goddamn, watching her perform was the hottest thing he’d ever seen. She stood in front of the pole and dipped low, spreading her legs. Then pushing herself back up and popping her round, firm ass at the audience, she undid the snap between her breasts with a quick flick of her fingers and shrugged off her bra.

Rafael’s breath stopped in his chest as the article of lingerie hit the floor, the rhinestones clattering on the stage. Now topless, she held the pole and ground against it, her hips moving to the thrum of the music. She reached back and undid the bow that held her skirt together, and it fluttered to the floor, as well. Now wearing only a thong and her high-heeled shoes, she did a few more spins around the pole. Meanwhile, Rafael left his beer untouched, the rest of the room was forgotten, and he watched her as she swayed and swiveled under the spotlight, so comfortable there.

It was impressive, and Rafael sat back as Jessica commanded the crowd. She dropped to her knees on the stage, she crawled slowly over to him. Then, in a controlled movement that involved every muscle of her upper body, she pushed her chest down to the floor, and then arched her back, gracefully pushing herself up. Maintaining eye contact, as she danced for only him at the edge of the stage, Rafael reached into his wallet and pulled out a one-hundred-dollar bill. He stood close enough to slip the bill in the string of her thong over her hip, letting his fingers graze her soft skin. She winked at him and blew a sultry kiss, but the realization dawned in her eyes, followed briefly by panic, then fear. She knew it was him, but somehow schooled her reaction to keep cool, then she sauntered away as the lights dimmed and the music stopped. The crowd erupted in applause for Jessica. But Rafael took a seat, certain that she would come find him.

He sat stunned, his heart pounding, his dick straining against his zipper, as he watched his competitor in the Las Vegas mayoral race, almost naked, gathering her clothing and the various bills that had been thrown across the stage, trying not to look directly at him. He had shaken her. He’d gone to San Francisco to bust her, to make her quit her campaign, which would hand him a tidy victory by default. But something had sparked a change in him. He was no longer quite as interested in outing her, and now he was intrigued, and he wanted to know more about her. More than what she looked like dancing in a thong and high heels, he reasoned.

* * *

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

It was him.

Jessica stepped behind the curtain and emerged backstage, where the other dancers were preparing, chatting, lounging between their own performances. She’d danced a great set, and performing always left her with a rush and gloriously fatigued muscles. She relished the lights, the applause, but she’d almost passed out when she saw Rafael Martinez standing next to the stage. The bill he’d slipped into her G-string was still there, wedged between the polyester and her hip. She could still feel the way his fingers had grazed her skin as she pulled it out, frowning when she saw the denomination. A hundred dollars? What is he doing here?

She’d been able to keep her cool out on the stage, when she’d looked down and realized it was him sitting there, front row. Rafael Martinez. He was in her club, he’d seen her dance and now everything was over for her. He was there to bust her, he would tell everyone that she was a dancer, ruin her career, her life, everything she’d worked for. So, she’d maintained eye contact with him when she recognized him, then she’d stood straight and held her head high as she left the stage.

The more she thought about it now, however, her bravado waned. Her hands shook, and she could barely maintain her grip as she fisted her costume, and her money. She had to get dressed and face him. Reminding herself that she had nothing to be embarrassed about, she felt her anxiety diminish. But she knew that in his hands, he held the power to destroy her dreams. She had to see what he was doing there, and somehow try to convince him to keep her secret.

“Hey, great set, Jessie,” one of the other girls said, but she couldn’t be sure who said it. She was too focused on figuring out a way to save everything she stood to lose. She dressed quickly in a skirt and T-shirt, and toyed briefly with cutting out the back door, to get away without seeing Rafael, or even siccing one of the bodyguards on him. But neither of those things would solve her problem. She would have to see him at some point, better here at her regular club than at a debate. Taking a deep breath, Jessica steeled her resolve and stepped out from the back room to find him.

She looked around the club and, ignoring the glances of the patrons who’d just seen her perform, she found Rafael almost immediately, sitting at the table near the stage, casually sipping from his beer bottle and already watching her, his lips curved upward in a smug, amused smirk. Goddamn him. Straightening her shoulders, portraying what she hoped was an air of confidence, she walked toward him.

Taking a seat, she slid his one-hundred-dollar bill across the table to him, then leaned back. “I’m not taking your money,” she told him, crossing her arms.

“Then how will I pay for my private dance?” Rafael asked, his right eyebrow raised. “I’m a customer.”

The man was unbelievable. “You aren’t getting one. And I don’t care who you are. I don’t do private dances. I haven’t in years.”

“This is a good time to break that streak, isn’t it?” he asked with a sly smile.

“If I did, you certainly wouldn’t be the recipient. What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he returned, taking an easy look around the club. She followed his eyes, watching women casually stroll through, wearing skimpy lingerie, if they were dressed at all.

She scowled. A new dancer had come out and the attention of everyone else in the club had turned to the stage as music filled the room. “Are you going to answer any of my questions?”

He shrugged. “I don’t think I need to. I’m the one who’s here for answers.”

She sighed. “What do you want?”

He lifted his wrist, and she saw from the large face of his Hublot watch that it was after 3:00 a.m. She rolled her eyes at him—that watch could pay her mortgage for at least a couple of months. Such pointless luxury. Yeah, he was certainly a man of the people, she thought with scorn.

“What do I want?” he repeated. “Well, right now, I kind of want an early breakfast,” he told her, leaning across the table. “Want to join me?”

She looked at him, in his casual clothing. He looked good in his suits, but in street clothes, he looked great. No, she didn’t want to go anywhere with him, and she was about to tell him as much, but she needed to figure out what his plan was with his new information. It had been a while since she’d eaten, and betraying her, her stomach rumbled loudly. “There’s a twenty-four-hour diner a couple doors down if that suits you. They have a pretty good breakfast menu. Unless you want something fancier, but in this neighborhood, you might be out of luck. And—” she gestured to his watch “—you probably shouldn’t flash that piece around here.”

“I’m not too worried about it. I can defend myself if I need to. But that diner sounds great,” he said with a smile, standing. “Let’s go.”

* * *

Being seated across from Rafael in the diner was a surreal experience for Jessica. She was physically tired from her performance, but she was mentally exhausted trying to figure out a way out of her current predicament, afraid that her secret would ruin her, but she couldn’t help looking at Rafael, regarding him quietly, trying to figure him out.

She had always been attracted to him, since the day she’d first met him. But she’d never let herself get close to him, and on only a few occasions had she ever been one-on-one with him. The reason why? Those dark brown eyes, his deep, low voice that flowed from his lips, effortlessly transitioning between Spanish and English. He was normally so polished, looked every part the well-put-together politician. But at three o’clock in the morning, the dark shadow of a beard colored his strong jaw and his hair was slightly disheveled, and it made her fingers itch with the need to reach across the table and smooth it. He looked rugged in nice but worn jeans and a fitted black V-neck T-shirt. It showed that there might be more to him than the arrogant politician-slash-businessman.

They looked at each other, not saying anything. She imagined that, like her, he was trying to figure out what to make of their current situation. Silent, until the shadow of the waitress fell over their table.

“What can I get for you folks?” she asked them, barely looking up at them from her notepad, seemingly unaware of the tension that radiated between Jessica and Rafael.

“I’ll have a coffee,” Rafael said.

“How do you take that?”

“Black.”

“And you, hun?” She turned to Jessica.

“I’ll have tea. Something herbal, if you got it.”

“Lemon okay?”

“Sounds good.”

“Any food?”

“No.” She shot a pointed look at Rafael. “I’m not hungry.” She was, in fact, starving, but she couldn’t afford to spend any longer in his company than she needed to.

The server turned to Rafael, pen poised to take his order. “Nothing else for me, either. Thanks.”

When the waitress walked away, Jessica folded her arms and leaned across the table. “I thought you wanted breakfast.”

“Well, I don’t want to order food if you aren’t going to have any. I can’t have you seeing my food, getting jealous and stealing any of my bacon.” He said, serious, before flashing a bright smile at her.

Flabbergasted, Jessica shook her head. Rafael had her at his whim, and he sat there joking. “So, what now?” she asked him, ignoring his attempts at humor. She needed to get down to business. “Are you going tell the press? Or leak the fact that I strip online? Or just plain old blackmail me into dropping out of the mayoral race altogether?”

Rafael honestly seemed to consider his response. “That was my first thought. But, you know, it’s not really my style to go to the press. Maybe I’ve had a change of heart. I’m not a snitch. And God knows I’ve got my share of skeletons.”

“Oh, really? So, what then? What are we doing here?”

He shrugged. “Intrigue, maybe? I guess I was curious why a fairly popular city councillor and mayoral candidate has stripping as a side gig.”

“Only fairly popular? Check the latest polls, bud.”

“Polls don’t mean anything,” he said with a wave. “Up, down, whatever. The only thing that matters is election night.”

She sighed. “I’m going to ask once more—what are we doing here? It’s late, and I’m too tired for this.”

“Why do you do it? Is it the money? Councillors make a decent salary.”

The waitress reappeared with her tea and Rafael’s coffee. When she shuffled off again, they both sipped from their cups until Jessica spoke again. “It’s fun, it’s empowering and I’m good at it. And it isn’t a side gig. For a long time, stripping was my full-time job. I know I won’t be able to do it for much longer without being found out, especially not when I’m mayor.”

“You are good at it. One of the best I’ve seen.” He nodded and looked her over. His heated gaze made her breath halt. “You’re still so confident that you’re going to win? I’m also curious what the more conservative Las Vegans would think about your job when they find out?”

She said nothing, bristling at the implication, still unsure of what his plans were. “When they find out? I thought you weren’t going to tell.”

He chuckled, and the sound resonated deep within her, and she realized that she’d never heard him laugh before. Hell, she’d barely even had a conversation with him. And damn him, she was starting to like it. He took a sip of coffee and leaned closer. “Why don’t we get out of here?” he asked, his deep and dark tone told her exactly where he wanted to go with her.

She stilled. And that was it. Angry words bubbled to her mouth. She leaned across the table and pointed her finger in his face. “I’m not going to sleep with you to keep your mouth shut. You can forget that.”

He blinked quickly, and paused, as if he were trying to choose the right words. “Trust me, sweetheart, I’ve never had to resort to blackmail to get a woman into my bed. I’m not about to start now.” His eyes searched her upper body, and she felt the burn from them. “No matter how good of an idea it might be.” She remained unconvinced, and tried to stop herself from thinking about him getting her into his bed. He kept going, and she had to focus her attention to hear what he was saying. “You clearly have the wrong idea about me,” he started. “You don’t seem to like me very much.”

A shocked laugh made its way past her lips. “How fragile are you? Is that what you’re worried about? People not liking you? So what if I don’t? You’re everything I don’t like, everything that’s standing in the way of real change.”

“No, not quite.” He held up his hand, cutting her off. “I know that there are quite a few people around town who don’t like me, and I don’t care. But for some reason, I’m just concerned about you not liking me.” He paused to let it sink in. “I’m not a bad guy, Jessica, really. And even though you think you know a lot about my life and my upbringing, you really don’t. And that’s unfortunate. And seeing as how we’re spending so much time together lately, going to the same events, I think we should get to know each other.”

She rolled her eyes, used to having men propose that they get to know each other. “I’m sure you do.”

“Come on.” He smiled. “My closest friends, at least four people who aren’t blood-related, agree that I’m actually a pretty great guy.”

“And what if I already feel like I know enough about you?”

He yawned. “You know, it is pretty late. We should probably go. My flight leaves in a couple of hours.”

“Wait. We aren’t done discussing what you’re going to do with the information you plan to hold over my head.” His constant switching of gears, changing the conversation, had her experiencing whiplash.

He shrugged. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with it yet. Maybe I’ll give you the opportunity to plead your case. Spend some time with me when we get back to Vegas. I’m sure we can talk through this.”

“I don’t have time to spend with you. I have to work.”

“Stripping or campaigning?”

She seethed. “Campaigning. I don’t strip in Vegas.”

“That’s unfortunate for Vegas.” He frowned, looking her up and down. She was grateful for the table, as it stopped his gaze from lighting the rest of her on fire.

Jessica looked across the table at him. His dark brown eyes were warm, disarming and held the slightest bit of humor. Part of her knew all she needed to know about Rafael Martinez—that he was a self-interested businessman. It wasn’t common knowledge just how deeply lined his pockets were, or just how well connected he was in the local business scene, but she’d learned enough in her time working with him to know he wasn’t what Las Vegas needed right now. But she was attracted to him, there was no denying that. Just looking at him stirred the interest between her thighs. Maybe the other part of her wanted to get to know him in a physical way. Either way, she was too exhausted to put up much of a fight. She wanted to sleep, and she would let her brain and her loins fight it out tomorrow. She blew out an impatient breath. “Fine. What do you have in mind?”

“I don’t know. How about dinner tomorrow night? A drink or two. We’ll talk.”

“We can talk now.”

He looked around the restaurant. “Nah,” he told her, shaking his head. “Let’s do it when we get back to Vegas.”

“I get it. You want the hometown advantage, hey?”

He grinned again. “Maybe you know me better than I thought.”

Her energy was flagging, and she knew she wouldn’t be able to stand up to him much longer. “Okay, fine, I’ll have dinner with you.” She could spare at least an hour, to talk to him and keep her secret life exactly that. She paused. “This sounds an awful lot like blackmail, though.” He was sipping his coffee, but his eyes smiled at her from behind the mug. “So, how did you find out I was here?”

“I don’t know how that matters.” He shrugged. “I found you, either way.”

Unbelievable. His reluctance to tell her made her angry. “Are you not going to tell me anything? How dare you just waltz into my personal life and completely turn it upside down by holding this over my head, and then not even explain how you found out?” She watched him, noting how sure and confident he was, sitting in the booth. She rolled her eyes, put down her mug of tea and stood. She threw a twenty-dollar bill on the table for the tab—she didn’t want to owe him anything. “I don’t have time for your mind games, Rafael. I’m tired, and I just want to go back to my hotel.”

He stood after her. “Jessica, wait. I’m not letting you leave alone in a neighborhood like this.”

Feeling the rage rise from her core, she huffed out a breath. “You know, I feel safer in a neighborhood like this, than I do in your world,” she sneered, then turned away from him and headed for the door. “Where a man can just steamroll over another person, with no warning, no reason. You know what? I’m done with you. Tell people whatever you’d like.” She just wanted to get away from him.

“Jessica, wait,” he called again, and she turned in time to see him also throw a twenty on the table. At least their waitress would have a good tip. He caught up to her. “At least let me get you a cab.”

“I can get my own cab.”

He looked up and down the street, and saw the road was empty but for a lone taxi coming toward them. It stopped, and Rafael opened the back door for her. “Mind if I share? There don’t seem to be any others around.”

Jessica thought about refusing, but she looked him over in his designer jeans and her gaze snagged on that watch. Pretty boy wouldn’t last a second. No matter what she thought of him, any harm that befell him would be on her hands for leaving him there. “Whatever. Come on.” She shuffled inside the cab, but she found herself against the hard plastic of a child’s car seat that was strapped into place behind the driver, unable to move beyond the middle seat. Rafael then got in after her, firmly trapping her in her place.

* * *

Rafael was surprised by the lack of space in the back seat of the car, and the closed confines made him squeeze his body against hers so he could shut the door. His arm and thigh pressed against hers. Her skin was warm and smooth against his, and interest stirred deeply inside of him. The crackle of electricity that danced between them was like a live wire. He looked over at her, and she sat rod-straight, looking directly out the windshield, ignoring him entirely. He wondered briefly if she’d felt it, too. He shifted again, just to see, brushing her arm as he moved. He got his answer when she drew in a quick breath between her teeth, like a gasp, and she quickly shifted away from him, putting as much distance between them as she could. Which wasn’t much.

“Where to?” the cabdriver asked. Rafael looked in the mirror and saw the eyes of the driver. Jessica gave him the address of her hotel.

“And you, buddy?”

“Drop the lady off first, then we’ll worry about me,” he said, not taking the chance that the driver would drop him off first. Rafael’s protective nature pulled at him. This late at night, well, early in the morning, he wanted to make sure Jessica got to her hotel safely before he got out of the car. The driver shrugged, indifferent to Rafael’s answer, and pulled away from the curb.

They drove in the tense silence of the car, their bodies pressed together. Every time Jessica tried to shift away from him, he felt her soft skin rub against his own, and the contact caused a familiar stirring in his groin. He’d always thought she was gorgeous, but Jesus, since seeing her performance on the stage, there was no fucking doubt that he wanted her. As his dick came to life in his lap, he tried to think of anything that would dissipate his desire. Baseball, Antiques Roadshow, Monopoly, the three-hour Easter vigils his mother dragged him to as a child. Nothing worked. He coughed to clear the lump in his throat.

Jessica was facing forward, looking out the windshield of the car as they made their way to her hotel. But Rafael kept his eyes on her. He’d harbored at least one or two (dozen) fantasies about the woman beside him, most of them capturing his imagination at the duller moments during their city council meetings, or during mind-numbing political dinners and fund-raisers. She was intelligent, tough, articulate, goddamn sexy. Since campaigning had begun, she always had an opinion about something he proposed, and she was a continual thorn in his fucking side. They were political opponents, and she took potshots at him any chance she got, while he did the same. But pressed against her in the back seat of a San Francisco taxi, all he wanted to do was kiss her. But he had to stop himself; he couldn’t let on what he was feeling, and he hoped that the bulge of his stiffening dick wasn’t plainly obvious to her. He looked down at her, her features highlighted in the light of the dash. She was beautiful, soft, vulnerable. As a man who was so normally in control of his desires, he tried to fight his need. But he wasn’t sure he would win.

Perhaps feeling his eyes on her, Jessica turned her head and they locked eyes. The air between them was still charged. Jessica said nothing, but her lips parted; the movement was small, but he caught it. Before he knew he was doing, Rafael reached for her and, putting his palms on either side of her face, brought her lips to his.

She was hot, sweet, and the moment his lips hit hers, he knew she would either reciprocate, fall into his kiss, or smack him with rejection. At first, she was stiff, but when he took her bottom lip between his own, nibbling her lightly, she sighed and softened, yielding to him. She lifted her hands and fisted them in the front of his T-shirt as her lips parted with his. She tasted like lemon from the tea she’d had at the diner, and her tongue dueled with his as he tried to maintain control of the kiss.

He reached across her, unsnapped her seatbelt and pulled her into his lap, so that both of her legs draped over one of his thighs and his dick, rock hard, drove into her lush ass. The low ceiling of the car didn’t give them a lot of room, and she had to duck her head. Her arms wrapped around his neck, her fingers fisting his hair, and he kissed her harder as she lowered them, running her hands over her shoulders, down his chest. Rafael was harder than he’d ever been in his life, and he needed to be inside of her.

He knew that they were in the back of a cab, and that they had an audience in the driver, but he didn’t care, and from the way her lithe fingers made their way under his shirt, and up his chest, she didn’t, either. The hand that rested on her bare thigh skimmed upward, until he was under her skirt. Her legs parted slightly, and he took it as an invitation to go further. When his fingers hit the satin barrier of her panties, he slipped past them and, again, she offered no resistance. He about shook with desire as his fingers found her hot flesh, already slick with her need. His fingers circled her clit, and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, clutching him, pulling him closer. She cried into his mouth. Oblivious to the driver in the front seat, Rafael slid one finger and then another inside of her. She gripped his fingers from the inside, and he began to slide them in and out, as the heel of his hand pressed against her clit, his movement almost made effortless by how wet she was. He imagined that it was his dick, and he groaned into her mouth. Jessica’s breathing quickened. Her every physical response, her shallow breath, the way she spread her legs wider, allowing him greater access, the small desperate sounds that she made in his mouth, told him that she was coming.

He considered taking her then and there, as his cock about threatened to burst through his jeans, and he would have, if not for the sound of a throat clearing from the front seat. The driver, requiring their attention. He pulled away from her long enough to look at the other man. “Fuck,” Rafael muttered.

“Miss, we’re at your hotel,” the driver announced, looking straight out the windshield.

“Oh, right,” she said, her voice shaking, with her impending release, and his hand still between her legs, neither of them making any effort to move.

With one hand at the back of her head, he pulled her to him again, not letting her get away that quickly. He kissed her again. “Invite me up,” he told her, just a breath of electric air was all that separated them, his lips skimming hers with every word.

She said nothing, as he held his breath, waiting for the okay to go up with her and continue the night. But as the haze of desire cleared from her eyes, a look of shock replacing it, she gave him a soft “no” and pushed herself from his lap. “I can’t.”

His need for her numbed the surprise he felt by her refusal. Most women didn’t refuse him, especially after he made them feel the way he just had. But Jessica was different. She disengaged from him, taking her seat next to him. He immediately missed her heat, her slight weight against his dick. And they both remembered that because of the car seat that blocked the door nearest her, he had to get out to release her. “Move, please,” she said, her breath still heavy and matching his own.

He could have remained seated, insist again that they spend the night together. But she was right, and he knew it. They couldn’t. They shouldn’t. So, he nodded and got out of the car, adjusting the near-painful erection that threatened the integrity of his jeans zipper. She stood and opened her purse and withdrew her wallet.

“I’ve got the taxi,” he said. “Don’t worry about it.”

“I pay for my own ride,” she told him, putting some money on the back seat of the car, and before he could insist she take it back, she was already halfway to the hotel door. Rafael got back into the cab and blew out a breath. Jessica might pay for her own ride, but he knew that he would pay dearly for it, as well.


CHAPTER THREE (#uc30fbee9-087d-519d-b624-e75c8c310c7a)

BY SUNDAY EVENING, Rafael was beat. He’d flown back to Vegas from San Francisco early that morning, and he’d gotten right down to work. In addition to his work on the city council, he also quietly oversaw the finances of The Brotherhood’s operations; while he was left out of the group’s decision-making, he was still very much involved behind-the-scenes. While most conglomerates employed teams of people to oversee all facets of operations, The Brotherhood preferred to manage as much as they could by themselves. Some people could look at his business involvement and see a conflict of interest, if they knew how closely tied he still was to The Brotherhood. Rafael had never explicitly used his political power for the betterment of his friends, or his own business, but he’d always considered it using all of the tools at his disposal. It was just how things were done.

From his office in the BH, the commercial tower they’d erected that housed the headquarters of their respective companies, he was putting the finishing touches on his analysis of the previous quarter’s profits. He closed his spreadsheets and turned his attention to a Word document he was working on. He heard his door open, and Alex walked in. The partners all had an open-door policy between them and rarely knocked before entering each other’s offices. It was Sunday, but that didn’t mean they weren’t at work. There was a lot to do. A lot of balls to keep up in the air. Rafael raised his hand in greeting, and Alex took the seat on the other side of his desk. Rafael hadn’t seen his friend since he’d returned.

“How was San Francisco?”

“Good,” he said simply, not willing to provide any detail. Not looking up, he put the finishing touches on the report, trying to forget the way his body stiffened, remembering how he’d touched and kissed Jessica the night before.

Alex leaned forward in his chair. “So, what happened? Did you see her?”

“If you’re so interested, maybe you should have come along.”

“Dude, I told you. I had a date. That fortuitously turned into two dates,” he said with a satisfied grin.

Rafael smiled, glad that Alex hadn’t actually tagged along. “Well, good thing I gave you the weekend off from the campaign.”

“But you need to tell me. Did you see Jessica? Was she at the strip club?”

Rafael didn’t respond at first. He closed his laptop and looked at his friend. “I need you to keep what you know about her between us,” he warned him.

“What? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“You can’t tell anyone about what we found out about her, okay?”

Alex nodded. “Yeah, man. Of course. But why? This could hand you an easy victory. Why the change of heart?”

He ignored his friend’s last question. He didn’t even know the answer to that one. He had gone to California to bust her, to see firsthand the information that would win him the election. “I did see her,” he confirmed, with a quick nod of his head. “And she was dancing. But I don’t know what I want to do about it yet.”

“What’s to know? Just give us the okay to leak it to the press. Dude, this is what you want.” He cocked his head to the side, eyes narrowing in understanding. “Did something happen between you and her?” he asked, suspicious.

“Nothing happened,” Rafael responded. Except a kiss that completely scorched him to his core and left him with a burn no number of cold showers would heal. “But I decided that I don’t want to win like that. I can win this election on my own. I don’t need to ruin her in the process.”

He could tell that Alex knew Rafael was hiding something. “What’s going on?” his friend asked. “Just two days ago, you wanted to end her.”

“Nothing’s going on. Just give me a little time to wrap my head around this. Everything is fine. I assure you. Don’t worry.”

“Fine.” Alex held up his hands in mock surrender. “It’s getting late. I was going to take off, but I stopped by to see if you wanted to head downstairs to the club and get a drink. See if there’s anything fun going on.”

The club, Di Terrestres, was their favorite business, their pet project, the crowned jewel of all The Brotherhood’s operations. When they’d built the office building, they’d left the bottom floors empty for their own fun—a members-only adult playground for the elite. The sex club catered to almost any desire a consenting adult could have.

“Weren’t you with two women last night?” Rafael asked, eyebrow raised at his friend’s insatiable sexual appetite.

Alex shrugged and checked his watch. “That was like twenty-four hours ago.”

Rafael thought of the beautiful women and everything else he could ever want waiting for him downstairs, and he sighed. None of it interested him at the moment. He needed sleep, and a certain petite, green-eyed brunette with a heart-shaped face, who occupied an office at city hall and the forefront of his fantasies. “No, I can’t. I’m going home.”

“Now I know something’s going on.”

“Dude, I haven’t slept since Friday night. I’m allowed to take a night off from debauchery.”

“Yeah, you’re allowed, it’s just never happened before.” He stood. “All right, I’m done. I’m heading down. Join me if you want.”

Rafael shook his head. Tired and horny, but with no way to ease either at Di Terrestres, he sat back. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”


CHAPTER FOUR (#uc30fbee9-087d-519d-b624-e75c8c310c7a)

ON MONDAY MORNING, Jessica boosted the speed and incline on the treadmill and she ran, pumping her legs as a surge of energy coursed through her body. She couldn’t get Rafael out of her head. He’d gone to San Francisco to what? Bust her, to show that he knew about her secret life?

She knew how to figure out men, they weren’t complicated creatures, but Rafael was an enigma that she couldn’t decipher. Waking up in her hotel room yesterday morning after only a couple hours of sleep, she’d felt hungover, as if she’d overindulged in alcohol, but she hadn’t. So, she downed some coffee, and had then gone online, checking news sites and gossip rags. She’d even Googled her own name to see if he had leaked her secret life. And she’d found nothing. What was his game?

She thought about the night before, remembering that she hadn’t been drinking, nothing but herbal tea. The only intoxicant she’d experienced had been the taste of Rafael’s lips and the brush of his tongue. The stroke of his fingers.

And what about that kiss? And those hands... She ran harder, trying to rid herself of the memory of his lips and fingers on her. Her muscles screamed as the adrenaline flowed through her, and she remembered being trapped with him in the back of that cab. From the way he touched her, she knew he must be a spectacular lover. It was something she’d always suspected whenever she’d looked across the room to him at meetings, or when they met at functions. The way he held himself, the capable, confident swagger of a man in control. But with Rafael, it wasn’t an act. Even keeping pace with the belt of the treadmill, she felt a desirous hollow between her thighs, one that she could fill with only him. Frustrated, she boosted the speed of the treadmill again, hoping to run it out.

But his knowledge made her vulnerable. He held her life, her career in the palm of his hand and could snatch it all away from her if the whim struck him. Everything she remembered from that night had actually happened, and it hadn’t been her worst nightmare, or her hottest erotic dream. Not only did Rafael now know the secret that she’d successfully hidden for years as a city councillor, but she’d also about dry humped him in the back of a taxi. What a goddamn mess. She considered his proposition—spend time with him, get to know him, and maybe he wouldn’t spill the beans. She didn’t like the man, but to be fair, she didn’t really know him. What she did know was that he had a hard, hot body and he kissed like a demon.

Her heart rate sped up, and it didn’t have anything to do with running. She looked up at the television and saw a newscaster was speaking with Rafael outside city hall. She took out her earbuds and turned the TV volume up to hear him over the sound of her feet pounding.

“I want to encourage business growth. And that’s why we need to work with business owners in our city. All successful cities are built by the people first.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. She hated his act of pretending to care about the little people, when it was clear he only cared about helping business owners. Since announcing his campaign, he’d been eager to talk about his upbringing in a middle-class, immigrant family. But no matter his background, he was now so far removed from anything middle class. He may have started out there, but what did he know about the struggle of the people now, while he looked down upon them from his ivory tower?

Jessica knew the people intimately. She’d devoted herself to community issues surrounding housing and social assistance since she’d become a councillor. Growing up, she’d made a point of volunteering regularly in her neighborhood—even now she would go across town once a month to help out at the shelter she’d become so familiar with as a young student. Looking back, it was probably no surprise she’d ended up in public office.

Rafael might have a good act, but she knew better.

But it didn’t matter; he currently held the upper hand. He knew about her secret life. And even though he hadn’t said anything yet, it didn’t mean he wouldn’t. There were so few people that she trusted, and she was reluctant to add Rafael Martinez to that list.

Frustrated and fatigued, she pounded the end button on the treadmill’s control panel. When the belt stopped, she hunched over the panel, breathing deeply. She knew better, but it didn’t stop her from wanting the man more than she’d ever wanted anyone before.

Jumping down from the machine, Jessica took more calming breaths and drank her water. She picked up her phone and saw the text message from Ben telling her to call him. When she did, her friend sounded excited.

“Girl, have I got news for you.”

“What is it?”

“It’s about Dreamboat Martinez.”

“What about him?”

“I found something out about him.”

It was as if Ben had read her mind. “How did you know—”

“I’ve been talking to some people.”

“Again with these mysterious people you know. I know for a fact you don’t know people.”

He laughed, but then turned serious. “Just listen to me. Have you ever heard of Di Terrestres?”

“Of course I have.” Who hadn’t. It was a well-known hangout for Las Vegas’s superrich and the elite. But she’d never been inside. Not being rich, or elite, she’d never been invited through the front doors.

“What do you know about the shadowy cabal who runs it?” Ben asked. Jessica was running out of time and patience to play this guessing game.

“I’ve got stuff to do today, can you just save us some time and tell me?”

“I have it on good authority that Rafael Martinez is a silent partner of The Brotherhood, the extremely well-connected group that owns it and many other enterprises.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I heard a rumor and I got a friend of mine to do a little digging. It was tricky, but apparently Mr. Cute-but-Dumb-as-a-Post has some friends in high places. But this is some real information for you. What would staunchly conservative Las Vegans think of their golden boy owning a sex club within city limits?”

Jessica felt a smile grow on her lips. She finally had some leverage on the man who knew a truth about her. “Thanks, Ben. I know I told you not to dig, but I’m glad for once that you didn’t listen to me.”

“No problem, doll. Will you be home for dinner?”

“No,” she said, her lips pursing as an idea formed in her head. “I’ve got plans tonight.”

“It sounds like you’ve got something on your mind, and I want you to fill me in later.”

“I will. Don’t worry.” Jessica hung up the phone, checked the time and realized that her workout had run long. She had a meeting with her team, and then she had an appearance to make at the university. Time to get her ass in gear and out the door.

* * *

Jessica took the time to talk to every student who’d shown up to meet the mayoral candidates and other members of council. It was part of a city initiative, in conjunction with the student union, to get young people interested in municipal politics. And judging by the crowd that had packed the student union building, people were interested. This high a youth turnout was almost unprecedented. The plan had worked, and it gave Jessica hope for the future generation and political engagement. Even the local TV news crews had shown up. She couldn’t remember an election that had gotten so much coverage. People were fascinated by her, Rafael and the entire electoral process, and voter registration was high.

She looked across the room and saw Rafael and some of his people working his own corner. He looked confident, strong, gorgeous, in his jeans and T-shirt, just as he had that night in San Francisco. They had both opted for a more casual look, and again, just like the last time she’d seen him, he looked damn good.

He laughed at something a young man said to him, and the sound rang over the din of the packed room. When he looked up, he caught her eye, and they maintained contact for a brief moment, before she turned back to the young woman she was speaking with. She then moved on, making her way through the crowd, until she found herself in front of Rafael.

He looked down at her, his smile amused but cordial, and she nearly blushed at the way secrecy lingered between them. Her own lips tipped upward.

“Hello, Jessica.” He turned back briefly to the people he was talking to. “Excuse me, for a moment.” They found a quiet corner.




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