We shake again and he leaves. Tara leans against me and sighs and I kiss her gently. “What do you think?”
“It worked, just as planned. Clyde played his part well. Came in at a dramatic point, really leaned into the role. It was well done.”
“I hate putting on stupid fucking political theater like that.”
“You need it for now, but that’ll change soon, once Hugh’s gone.”
I sigh gently and lead Tara further away from the revelry. When we’re upstairs and alone, I collapse in a chair in our suite and pull her onto my lap. She wraps her arms around my neck and nuzzles my cheek.
“When this is over and Hugh’s dead, I want to take you on vacation.”
“I’d love that.”
“Anywhere you want. Name the place.”
“London. No, Paris. No, uh, Barcelona.”
“How about all of that and more?”
“Okay.” She grins and kisses me. “You know what’s strange? The idea of killing Hugh doesn’t bother me.”
“Probably because he’s been poisoning my mother and stealing my family out from under me for years.”
“That, and he’s a dick. And I guess you’re rubbing off on me.” She hesitates, frowning slightly. “Do you really think Clyde will come through?”
“He’ll do it. You heard him. This is ending sooner or later, and he’d rather be alive when it’s all over.”
“When it’s all over,” she echoes softly. “Hard to imagine. What’ll we do? You’re going to be so bored.”
“Don’t worry. There will be more wars. Now, you look too fucking good in that dress to keep my hands to myself.”
“Kellen.” She grins as I pull her down and push her onto the couch, pinning her there.
“I suppose I’m insatiable when you look so fucking good.”
I bury her mouth with mine and take my real prize.