Chapter Forty-One

I wake up with Inanis laying beside me. I know he's not sleeping because his arm is tightly wound around my naked torso, and as I open my eyes, he pulls me even closer to him.

"Do I want to know how long you've been laying here staring at me?" I ask him, burying my face in my pillow.

"What hour is it?"

"Ha-ha, hilarious."

He is so close I can feel his breath on my cheek, "It's not often I get to touch you naked."

"Don't get used to it."

"Too late for that."

"Shit, I've spoiled you."

"You really have, you're a terrible wife, I want a new one."

I sigh in my pillow, "I pity the girl who ends up with you."

"Isn't it funny that the girl is you."

"You're just full of humor this morning, aren't you?" I mumble and force myself to sit up. I groggily wipe my eyes and turn to stare at my shirtless husband sitting beside me. His body is gorgeous albeit, too thin, but still, he was flawless. And yet, a gorgeous body on a man has never been something that makes me weak. I make sure to hold a sheet up, covering my body.

It was the way he stares at me that makes me want to hide and kiss him all at the same time.

On television, or even in public, he's a masked stranger, a cruel, impassive man with all the power in the country right in the palm of his hand, but, with me, he is nothing but a little boy who craves the attention of a girl.

How strange it is.

"What's today's plan?" I ask, wishing he'd tell me nothing, so I could have a day to myself.

"Good or bad news first?"

"Don't play games with me."

He sits up, "Good news is, we are to have a private interview, as well as a public interview with the vice president today."

"That's good news?"

I watch him pull on a shirt, "It is when you hear the bad news."

I struggle to ask, "And what's the bad news?"

"The bad news," He explains, "is that afterwards we are to head straight to the white house, where we will be attending a party with the elites of the country. Isn't that exhilarating? Every American embodied poison all crowded in the same building. I hope we don't catch any diseases."

"I'm not familiar with the elites."

He grunted, "You're lucky." I watched him fix his hair, his shirt was still half-unbuttoned and I found it terribly attractive.

"Technically you are part of them." I tell him, "The elites I mean. In fact, you are probably at the top."

He gave me an unamused look, "I am nothing like them."

"Sure, sure, they all are manipulative, narcissistic liars, but all you do is murder people, which is totally not worse."

He stared at me for a long moment, took a deep breath, and said, "I regret not stabbing you last night."

"I regret you not stabbing me."

"We can always make amends."

"Perhaps another time." I get up from the bed and put on one of Inanis's shirts. Since my clothes were all in the closet of the guest bedroom, the last thing I wanted was one of Inanis's housemaids to see me completely naked through the halls.

He's working on buttoning the rest of his shirt, and it takes everything I have to not reach out and button them for him.

I just wanted an excuse to touch him, honestly.

I decided to retreat into the guest bedroom before I do something I highly regret. I quickly change myself to something that isn't Inanis's and figure if we are going to be on television, they most likely will have a wardrobe for me to wear there.

Inanis is waiting for me downstairs. In his hand is a cup of coffee, which I don't recall ever seeing him drink before. It looked odd. "You're drinking coffee?" I ask him, glancing in the cup to see that it was, indeed, black coffee.

"Everything holds a little surprise." He handed me the cup, "Have some."

The fact that he offered made me suspicious, so I took a sip, and immediately my tongue burned, but not because of the temperature. I winced, struggling to swallow, "What the hell is this?"

"It's coffee."

"There's more than coffee in that." I tell him, handing him back the cup as though it were tainted.

"We're going to a party hosted by unendurable rich people; I needed some motivation."

"Did you drug it?"

He looked appalled, "Of course not, it's vodka."

"In coffee?"

"I never said it tasted good."

I stare at him, repulsed, "You're disgusting. That's so fucking gross."

He just shrugs, "Don't say I didn't warn you when tonight comes and you are bombarded with the gloating of those with millions in their bank accounts that believe they are better than you."

"You have millions, and you believe you are better than everyone. I'll be fine."

"We have millions." He corrected me, "and we are better than everyone, there is a substantial difference."

"You are a sad hypocrite."

He shrugs again and takes another drink. I watch him and shudder as he does it without a wince.

Eventually, our ride arrives, and we head back to the White House, a place where I would gladly never step foot in again if I had the choice.

There is a mob of people in front of the building, and we are both escorted in by a band of bodyguards. People are screaming, and some people are yelling sexually explicit taunts to Inanis, and I glance up at him but he doesn't seem bothered by the women who lust after him.

One woman is so close to us that a bodyguard has to shove her back. She is yelling to Inanis, explaining to him how badly she wants him. I wanted to laugh at her but seeing as she was dressed in the same attire Inanis normally would, I had no doubt she probably kept her own hidden cleaver someone on her figure, and I wanted no introduction to it, so I kept my mouth to a thin line.

When we made it into the White House and out of the public eye, I released a long, steadying breath. Everything went from chaos, to a bit calmer. I went to my own dressing area, and though Inanis was supposed to go to his own, he followed me, resulting in his stylists to hobble after him.

"You'd look good in that one." Inanis tells me, as I look through my wardrobe for and outfit that's elegant, but also a bit threatening. He points to a olive gown, one arm sleeveless, the other a long sleeve of silk and pearls.

"It looks tacky." I admit, stuffing the gown in the back of the others.

"Your sense of style is so depressing."

I ignore him, "I like this one." I pull out a plain red dress that goes only to my knees. Nothing too overbearing about it, which was more to my taste.

Inanis looks as though he wants to burn the dress, but holds himself back, "It's boring, but I won't dictate your choice in clothing, so long as you are confident in what you wear."

"Thanks."

"It's repulsive, though."

I frown. "Thanks."

"And I wouldn't wear it even if it were the only choice in the room."

"Stop."

"It looks like an aneurism in the form of a dress, but whatever flies your kite my love."

"Inanis."

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

I wear the dress. I don't look at him while he stares at me in disgust. Once my hair and makeup are done. He and I head towards one of the private rooms where we can chat with the vice president alone before the public interview.

Vice President Kurt Chavez is already waiting for us at the conference table. He stands when we walk in.

"Hello Kurt." Inanis greets him with a charming smile, "You look pale, everything alright?"

"If that's your way of taunting me, Mr. Messor, you'll have to do better than that." He smiled right back at my husband, no fear evident on his face.

"Oh, I do like you. You're fun."

Kurt turns to me, and reaches his hand out, "Hello Ma'am, your dress looks stunning on you."

I think I like him too. I shake his hand, "I'm relieved to hear at least one person here agrees with me on that."

Inanis frowns at that comment and can't help but grin in response.

We all sit down, and Inanis explains the rules of the interview. Afterward he says, "Since you will be the new president, I'd like to form a secret agreement," He goes on, "As fun as this all is, let's keep all our nasty secrets hidden, okay? This ordeal has been terrible for my skin. I'm aging so quickly." He pointed to me, "Look at my wife, she has aged ten years in only a week."

I grunt at him, but he doesn't allow me to defend myself as he continues. "I'm so humbled and honored to kill the president." Yes, very humble, "But one presidential killing is enough for my time, don't you think?" He leaned across the table, eyeing Kurt like a mere animal, "So you best be a good boy, or I will gut you like the sheep you are."

The room is quiet. All humor gone. I watch the vice president -soon to be, president- swallow, and his cool aura now faded into a look of discomfort.

"I assure you; I have nothing to hide."

"Oh please," Inanis says, slumping back down in his seat, "You're a politician, there isn't much you aren't hiding."

"You're wrong."

Inanis stares at him for a long, silent moment, before speaking up, his tone a sudden cheery tone, as though he didn't just threaten the man's life. "Hold your hand out."

"What?"

"Are you fond of magic, Kurt? I enjoy a good little trick myself. Hold your hand out, like this." He demonstrates by flattening his right hand on the table.

Kurt glances questioningly at me, and I shrug, indicating I was just as confused as he was. Hesitantly, he copied Inanis's movements, and flattened his hand on the table.

In one swift movement, Inanis pulls out his cleaver, and slams the blade down on Kurt's middle finger. Just as quickly as it happens, I hear screaming, and I see nothing but red.

I gape are my husband, utterly speechless. Kurt is holding his hand, screaming, and I watch Inanis pick up the severed finger and examine it.

When I finally find my voice I speak, "What the fuck?"

He barely looks at me as he explains, "Don't give me that face, I had to do it."

"No you didn't." I stand immediately, "We need to find a medic oh my god he needs to go to a hospital."

"No, he will not be doing anything until after the interview."

"Are you insane?" I'm shouting, "He needs to get it reattached now!"

"Not until after the interview." His tone is so calm, "Take it as a reward." He says to the crying vice president who really does look pale now, "The sooner we get this interview done, the sooner you can reattach your missing body part and hope it still works." He stands, "I'll see you out there." He exits the room, and I quickly follow him.

He's holding the finger, and hands it to a nearby camera crew member, "Keep this safe for my friend Kurt, alright? Don't give it to him until after the interview." The worst part is the man didn't even look phased by being handed a finger, as though this was just another one of Inanis's antics.

I felt like throwing up.

I grabbed Inanis's arm, and spun him around to face me, "Why the hell did you do that? There was absolutely not reason you should have cut his-"

"Mirea," he cuts me off, "Save your anger, everything I've done has purpose."

"There was no purpose for that. None at all."

"He was arrogant."

"Of course he was, he's the vice president of the United States."

"Which is why I had to ground him." He is staring at me so intently when he speaks, "These men, they only want power, and when I walked into the room, and he did not look the slightest bit intimidated, it speaks volumes."

I cross my arms over my chest, "So, because he hurt your pride, you cut off his finger? Yeah, you're right, that does speak volumes."

He narrowed, "My pride has nothing to do with this. A man who doesn't fear his own potential executioner is not a man fit for presidency. He was overbearingly proud and arrogant, and in terms of being a man of power that is unacceptable. I meant it when I said I do not want to go through the trials of another presidential execution, and had I not taught him a lesson, there is no doubt he would inevitably be on my future hit list." He takes a breath, "It's not pretty, but this is how things are run here. If you don't like it, you should have let me kill your father."

I was still pissed at him, but I didn't have an insult, or a valid argument about how immoral he was, when his profession is nothing but immorality. "Whatever." I turn from him, unable to look at him, I begin to walk away. I don't expect him to grab my arm and pull me against him.

My breath gets caught in my throat when he leans down and whispers in my ear, "Don't be mad at me, Mirea." His voice is so soft, and his breath is warm on my neck, "Yell at me all you want, but I can't stand it when you distance yourself from me."

I'm no better than he is. My revulsion for him has nearly melted away, and I hate that he has that affect on me. I hate him. "You're an ass." I say because what else can I say?

He smiles so faintly, "I won't deny that."

A cameraman shouts at us from behind me, "Ten minutes until we go live!"

I push Inanis away in one successful shove. "Wash the blood off your hands." I tell him, as I straighten my dress from any evidence that he had held me, "You look a mess."