Page 172 of Fall Before Her Throne

After a quick mental debate, I decided she was likely safe. But if Greco thought to plant someone in here to murder me on the off-chance I went pee, then he kind of deserved the win.

Whatever. I just wanted to get clean.

I grabbed a couple of thick paper towels and ran them under the sink water. After ringing them out, I pulled up the front of my dress and gently wiped down my legs.

“Finally,” I exhaled in relief. No more sticky. Being covered in cum at home was one thing, but at the party was a different story entirely. Sensory fucking nightmare.

The toilet in the far stall flushed, and shortly after, the strappy-heels woman walked out, pausing slightly as she saw me bent over, paper towels in hand, dress hiked to my hips. At least the paper towels blocked me from totally flashing her.

“Uhhhhhh,” I mumbled, a perfect picture of elegance as I awkwardly turned away. “This is not what it looks like…Well, I don’t know what it looks like, but it’s not weird. Um, well, maybe it is weird? I don’t⁠—”

The woman laughed. “Looks like we’ve got a situation here.”

“A situation,” I repeated, frantically finishing up my cleaning hack-job. I tossed the paper towel into the trash can and dropped the dress. “Whew. That’s a great way to describe it. A situation.”

“Apparently, you’ve got it handled.”

“I’m very good at handling situations,” I said while I rearranged the fabric. My eyes flicked up, and I froze. “Oh, shit.”

Josephine Zambani. The mayor.

She smiled brightly. “Not expecting me?”

Her brown bob floated just above her shoulders, and the loose waves made her appear pretty and relaxed. Her black sheath dress was both professional and elegant, accented by sparkling jewels that swished like waves across the bodice and down one side of the skirt. Plus, those strappy heels were sleek and gorgeous.

I swallowed. “Not when I’m wiping cum from my legs, no.”

Her eyes widened. “Sorry, what was that?”

“Just my boyfriend being a little over-enthusiastic,” I said before I cleared my throat. “You know what? We should forget that ever happened. Can we forget that happened?”

She laughed and walked over to the sink to wash her hands. “Sure. Already forgotten. Don’t worry about it.”

How the fuck was I supposed to salvage this interaction?

I cleared my throat while I washed my hands, too. “My name is Leona Vero. It’s nice to meet you, Mayor Zambani.”

She tossed her paper towels into the trash. “Leona Vero? Any relation to Luciano Vero?”

I nodded carefully. “He was my father.”

“Ah,” she said. She leaned closer to the mirror to inspect her makeup, but she watched me out of the corner of her eye. “He recently passed, didn’t he? Please accept my condolences.”

“Unnecessary, but thank you.” No sense in denying it. “We both know who my father was, and let me assure you, Mayor Zambani, he doesn’t deserve your condolences.”

Her mouth quirked up in the corner while our eyes locked in the mirror. “Please call me Josephine.”

Once my hands were dry, I extended one. She grabbed it for a firm handshake. Her look was shrewd and appraising. The more she spoke, the more I got the impression that she was actually quite intelligent and probably not just a political figurehead put in place by powerful people who planned to use her for their own ends. Plus, if she knew who my father was, she more than likely had heard of Greco before.

“Besides our family name, my father and I don’t share any other similarities,” I said. “Especially not in business.”

Her head tilted to the side. “That’s a relief, Miss Vero. He had quite a reputation.”

“I’ll build my own,” I said, smiling. “Starting right here in this bathroom, when the mayor sees me with my skirt up. And please, call me Leona.”

“Leona, then,” she responded with a laugh. “Don’t worry, we forgot about that.”

“Thank God,” I said. “Actually, I hoped that we’d get a chance to meet.”