Ah, fuck it–the last barely coherent thought that filtered through Rita’s mind before she snapped under the pressure of lack of sleep, nefarious deeds, and the sudden realization she’d spent more time with Rufus in the past week than Reeve. That last point especially angered her, though it was by her own design. She tried in any way she could to balance her desire to protect both grandfather and boss while satisfying Rufus’ demands of her to supply information. In this balancing act, she was failing.
In his office, staring out the bay window, the Veep had called her on her halfhearted efforts. And he did it in his infuriating, taunting way. Nothing seemed to escape his notice, and Rita hated the small thrill that brought. Working to meet and deny his demands proved to Rita a challenge, one to which she felt strangely eager to rise. Defy him. But please him, too.
Minerva, what was wrong with her?
So–Ah, fuck it–Rita thought, and she kissed him. Why did she kiss him? She wasn’t even sure, now. She’d felt angry, desperate, and desiring of any form of control. Her fingers dug into his pristine coat for purchase as they pressed against the window. He didn’t fight her. Didn’t seem too surprised, even. He murmured against her, teeth grazing her lips and she gasped in spite of herself.
…wish he’d kiss you like this? Damn him, Rita thought as he grabbed her face, searched her soul and smirked that stupid, smug, sultry smirk of his. He saw her indignation, taunted her more as he planted a kiss to her neck, and she hated how much she enjoyed it. She tried to let out a growl of frustration, but it sounded too much like a moan for her liking.
Yet her enjoyment chilled when the Vice President taunted her again. It would be easy? To…push Reeve around? Perhaps Rufus merely intended to fluster her. But she couldn’t help but worry about a deeper implication. Was he encouraging Rita to pursue…alternative methods of getting information from the Director? Dammit, why had she acted out!? She was usually so careful, not impulsive like this. This single step out of character…how much would it cost her?
She faced a choice. Demur, apologize, possibly face having to beg for forgiveness…or double down?
“He’s not here right now. Just us.” Rita pinned Rufus with her gaze. “And I don’t want to push him around. I want to push you.” In saying the words out loud, Rita lost her nerve. “…I don’t know what I’m saying.” She stepped back, grip relenting on his coat. “My apologies, sir.” She steeled herself for whatever punishment she now would surely face.
Rufus watched her struggle with herself, with the parts of her that didn’t come naturally but that he evoked in people, making them think that’s what he wanted or required by way of persuasion. Women plied him with kisses and sensual words often, and sometimes he allowed them to think them effective until it no longer served him to do so.
Perhaps Rita did wish to push him around — to exact her revenge of pent-up frustration and sexual dissatisfaction on the man who drove her to betray the object of her true desires up until now. How could Reeve ever want her if he knew? If he knew the things she did to keep herself and her grandfather safe, would he ever let her near him again? Certainly not in that carefully crafted circle of trust she’d only barely set foot in before Rufus got his claws into her.
She pulled away and Rufus let her, watching her backpedal frantically, the gravity of her actions heavy in her voice and stature, the way her chin dipped as if ashamed of letting him kiss that neck. He would huff a breath of amusement through his nostrils, shaking his head slowly and pushing himself off the window to pursue her in slow, ambling steps.
“And if he were here right now…” he spoke lowly, gazing down at her through heavy lids. “Who would you run to?” he wondered, a lilt of curiosity to his tone. “Who would you press yourself to and sooth with sweet, reassuring words. Where do your loyalties truly lie, Miss. Spencer.”
