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There’s something you should know. It’s urgent. Frankie lured her away from her husband’s side with a few words.
They passed the tables of foreign ambassadors, secretaries, the press at the door. He led Mel out of the gala and into a shadowy corner where he produced an email on his phone. The only light in their dark corner glowed white on her face.
His usual playful demeanour dropped. “Guy in my frat has a cousin at the Post. I swore I’d keep it to myself, but I think you should see before the rest of America.”
“The rest of—” Mel yanked her attention to study his face “—who else has access to this, Frankie? Does your father know?”
“No, I brought it straight to you.”
“Good.” Good boy.
They were toe-to-toe when Frankie pulled her into this corner, now they were nose-to-nose discussing TMZ’s next lead. Dear Lord, the entire country would know about her husband’s filthy escapades. The president was always a loose cannon, and Mel was the perfect woman to keep him in line—former ER physician and NYU professor fostering the next generation of healthcare professionals sounded nice beside the 49th president. The press adored her even if the president wanted nothing to do with her anymore.
But first ladies were harder to disappear than scandals.
Mel collected herself and thrust the phone to Frankie’s chest. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”
“What, you’re letting him off the hook that easy?”
She gulped down her apprehension, kept her gaze low. “The press print things all the time. Your father… he wouldn’t—”
“Fuck—”
“Language!”
“Copulate with three secretaries and stash the kids in Swedish boarding schools so he can cosplay as America’s saviour?”
Her eyes burned as the first tears fell. Frankie wiped them away instantly. Always sturdy, always there for her, always taking care of her.
“C’mon, honey.” His hand cradled her face, his head dipped to meet her eyes. “Abby’s folks have a ranch out west. We can get away until your lawyers get you out of this mess.”
“That’s very generous, but Frankie…” Mel couldn’t shack up with her stepson in secret. The press would turn on her, accuse her of adultery, or cradle robbing, or other horrid things. “We shouldn’t do this anymore.”
“Don’t be like that—” he grazed his lips against hers, waiting for permission to kiss her properly “—you can survive this. Let me help. Please.”
Slanderous headlines flashed in her mind. Enough was enough.
After years of cleaning her husband’s messes, she wanted to make a mess, be the cause of speculation this time. She’d make a bigger headline than her filthy husband anyway.
Mel gripped his face firmly and pulled him into a bruising kiss.
“When do we leave?”
“Wheels up in 30, ma’am!”