—Mabel—

Memories of that night in his penthouse played in my head.

Heat crept up my cheeks.

I swallowed hard and glanced across the tinted windows as the convoy glided across the streets of Washington.

The children chanted happily nursery rhymes. “Baa, Baa, Black Sheep,” “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star,” “The Wheels on the Bus,” “Old MacDonald Had a Farm”...

At some point, Alec and I joined them and I felt a familiar warmth settle between us.

Finally, the car ...