HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 15: I Have a Date

Samuel's shock and anger leave him nearly speechless. His voice turns rough as he demands, "Who?"

"Does it matter?" I reply coolly. "He's young, handsome, tall, and fit. And let's just say he's no disappointment in the bedroom. He's packing where it counts."

Samuel's fists clench tight. He gently moves Kaylee aside and steps toward me. I lift my chin defiantly. What's he going to do—hit me? He wouldn't dare.

"You're lying. You're just trying to mess with me."

If that were the case, it'd be working. But unfortunately for him, this is real.

Well, sort of. Sandro isn't exactly my boyfriend, but we did hook up. That counts for something, doesn't it? At the very least, it shows I can still be desirable, no matter what garbage Samuel spews.

"I'm telling the truth," I say firmly. "You're just fooling yourself, thinking I'd fade away in this so-called 'arrangement.'"

Samuel's lip curls into a sneer. "Prove it."

Prove it? How am I supposed to do that?

Oh. I can.

I pull out my phone, hiding the screen from Samuel as I search for a familiar contact.

This is a terrible idea, but I'm not about to let Samuel think he can lord his tiny ego over me. He needs a reality check, and if I had a chance to explain this plan to Sandro first, I think he'd back me up.

After all, Sandro was the one encouraging me to leave Samuel at the event.

I press Sandro's contact and hit call.

The phone starts ringing, and I switch to speaker mode, keeping the screen out of Samuel's sight.

When Sandro answers, I don't give him a chance to speak. I blurt out, "Hey, sexy. Where are you right now?"

For a heartbeat, silence fills the air, and my nerves ignite with panic. I almost take the call off speaker, bracing for him to call me a fool or worse.

Even though nothing suggests Sandro's feelings have changed since we last talked, maybe something did. Maybe he's reconsidered—

"Have you finally come to your senses, Rafha?" Sandro's voice is smooth, with a teasing edge. "I'm at Club Chateau on 5th. Are you coming over?"

"Wild horses couldn't keep me away," I reply.

"I like that enthusiasm," he chuckles. "Looking for another round?"

"You know it... I'll see you soon."

His voice dips lower, sending a shiver down my spine. "I'll be waiting."

The call ends, and I quickly lock my phone.

Samuel's face is a mix of anger and confusion, his fists still clenched but clearly rattled. Kaylee looks just as stunned, her mouth hanging open.

"If you'll excuse me," I say, steadying myself, "I have a date."

Neither of them makes a move as I grab my purse and head out into the night.

Bitter jealousy churns in my gut, and bile rises in my throat. Even though I'm disgusted with myself for reacting this way—I have no real claim over Sandro—it gives me a moment of clarity.

What am I doing?

Even if everything with Samuel is falling apart, this isn't where I should be.

Why did I rush here? Was I really just craving a fling?

Or was I looking for something more?

My divorce is going to be ugly, especially with a custody battle looming. It would be strategic to have someone with political clout in my corner. But that would mean using Sandro. Is that really what I want?

Is that why I'm here?

Or am I afraid to face the truth—especially now, seeing him surrounded by women?

Fueled by adrenaline, I take a cab to Club Chateau. Still dressed in my event clothes, which aren't exactly club attire, I'm surprised when the bouncers wave me in without question.

Maybe Sandro told them to expect me?

My heart races with hope as I weave through the crowd—until I spot Sandro near the bar. He's surrounded by people, mostly women in revealing outfits, hanging on his every word. When he cracks a joke, they burst into laughter.

Annoyed but determined, I push through the crowd. As I get closer, I see a woman clinging to his arm, batting her lashes up at him.

Without warning, she leans in and plants a kiss on his cheek, leaving a smear of red lipstick behind.

Coming here, I was chasing the thrill and comfort I felt that night with Sandro. I came alive in his arms. I wanted to feel that again—not just physically. Being near him gave me a rush I hadn't experienced in years.

He's unpredictable. It's exhilarating.

But it's clear I'm not the only one who feels that way. I'm just another face in the crowd.

Sandro is a young, charismatic congressman with a bright future. He's destined for success.

Why, surrounded by vibrant, youthful admirers, would he choose to spend time with someone like me—a worn-out mother of two?

Samuel's cruel words echo in my mind. They didn't sting before, but now they settle over me like a shroud of shame.

I don't belong here.

Suddenly, the flashing lights and pounding music make me dizzy. I need to leave. I don't want to be seen—not by Sandro, not by anyone.

I turn away, retracing my steps through the crowd, muttering apologies as I push past people.

"Rafha?" Sandro's voice calls out, but it might just be my imagination.

I just need to get out. I have to—

A hand grabs my arm, stopping me in my tracks. I whirl around and come face-to-face with Sandro.

His expression shifts from confusion to anger as he stares at me.

The crowd begins to drift away, sensing his attention has shifted.

Sandro glares at me, his eyes full of accusation. "Why are you avoiding me?"