HIS FIRST LADY(SANDRO MARCOS)

Chapter 34: Intrusive Thoughts

Sandro holds my hand so tenderly that I want to press closer, just to feel his touch again. I find myself constantly replaying our night together. The memory invades my thoughts every chance I get, even after I've satisfied myself.

Being this close to Sandro again, alone in the country club, stirs desires and wants through my body. But this is my workplace. We can't touch like this or even be seen together; it would undoubtedly lead to a scandal that could ruin both our reputations. A scandal like that could jeopardize my job at Vincent news network and potentially end Sandro's political career.

Neither of us can afford that.

Reluctantly, I pull my hand back from Sandro's touch—both his skin and his lips. He releases me as I move, standing upright once more. The air between us feels charged, like static electricity could crackle at any moment.

I realize, somewhat belatedly, that I'm not out of the woods yet. With just one word, I'm sure I could convince Sandro to be intimate with me here in the bathroom. It would be quick, messy, and intense...

I need to stop having these thoughts!

I can't trust myself around Sandro , even when we're just standing face-to-face and not touching.

I channel my frustration into my words. "You need to stay away from me. Please." The "please" is an afterthought. I hope it doesn't weaken my request. The main point is clear: Sandro is a distraction I cannot afford.

Sandro looks puzzled. "This is what I get for saving you repeatedly? Stay away from you? Esther, if I had stayed away today, those guys would have beaten you senseless or worse..." His hands clench into fists. "Staying away from you seems like the last thing I should do."

"I appreciate your help and concern, but I can't imagine needing either from here on out," I reply, trying to stay firm.

"You think Vincent would have stepped in? He can't even touch you," Sandro spits out, his words laced with venom and jealousy.

"Vincent has nothing to do with this," I say. "This is about you and me."

Sandro steps closer again. "You keep fighting your feelings for me. Your desires. You don't have to, Rafha . I want you again."

His blunt words make me squeeze my thighs together, seeking some kind of friction.

No. This is exactly my problem! Everything he does has me on edge, making me act like someone I'm not!

I am Rafha Samson, a mother of two, a woman of distinction, a homemaker! I am not someone who seeks out fleeting passions, despite what happened between Sandro and me.

"Our time together was a one-night thing," I tell him, relieved that my voice remains steady even as I tremble inside. "I'm asking you, as politely as I can, to please leave me alone, Sandro ."

Miles freezes. Seeing my trembling, he must have misunderstood and thought it's out of fear. He looks stricken and steps back.

"Be absolutely sure this is what you want, Rafha ," Sandro says. "Because once I walk out that door, there's no coming back."

"I'm sure," I reply, though I'm not entirely convinced.

Sandro studies me for a long moment, as if he can see through me. When I don't speak further, he sighs and heads for the door.

After he leaves, I stand alone in the bathroom, wondering if I've just made the worst mistake of my life.

Later, I head back to the house, eager to see my children. However, when I call for them, there's no answer. Instead, Samuel emerges from his study with a piece of paper. My sister is nowhere to be seen, which is unusual.

"Where are the girls?" I ask. They are the only reason I still come by the house.

"They're at a friend's house tonight," Samuel replies.

"You could have told me," I say with a sigh, checking my phone for any messages.

"I'm not your secretary," Samuel snaps. "It's not my job to keep you updated on your own children."

They are our children, I want to remind him. And since I'm not in the house right now, the least he could do is keep me informed.

Samuel has never been one to believe in fairness, I'm realizing. And he's certainly never cared about me.

But arguing with Samuel is futile. He's stubborn and pig-headed. He wouldn't listen to anything a woman says, and only someone with more power than him could silence him. Even then, he wouldn't learn any lessons.

"If they aren't here, I'm leaving," I say, turning toward the door.

"Rafha, wait," Samuel calls.

I stopped, surprised he spoke. I glance back at him.

He approaches and hands me the letter he's holding. It's addressed to me but already opened.

"Explain this," Samuel says, his lips twisted into a frown.

I take the letter and read through it quickly. It's an official job offer from Harbinger News Network. Vincent moves fast. He must have called someone immediately after leaving the golf course for it to be delivered so quickly.

There's no stamp on the envelope. Vincent must have had it hand-delivered.

"What the hell is that?" Samuel demands sharply.

"A job offer," I say.

"I can see that. Why the hell is it addressed to you?"

"Because it's for me."

Samuel steps closer, his anger palpable. "Harbinger News Network offers you a job, just like that?"

"I met Vincent, and he was impressed," I replied. "I don't know what more you want me to say. Also, I don't remember this being any of your business."

"Of course it's my business if my wife is prostituting herself," he says, crossing his arms.

My stomach churns with disgust. "Excuse me?"

"Admit it," Samuel says. "You only got this job because you slept with the boss."