Eddie was starting to feel that something was wrong, because the cheers around him were sounding eerily familiar.
He looked around. The big crowd that had been gathered around the roped-off center of the dance floor... was gone.
Where the hell were they?
Wasn't the whole point of gracing them with his dancing to soak up everyone's adoring attention?
No one was watching.
Why the hell was he even dancing anymore?!
His eyes were quickly drawn to the northwest corner, where a huge crowd had gathered.
"What the hell are they all doing over there?"
Eddie demanded of his lackey.
"Heard someone's teaching people to dance over there. Look—they're all dancing."
Eddie's eyes bulged.
"Who the fuck dares break the university's rules?! Only people in fraternities and sororities are allowed to dance! Come on!"
Eddie and his cronies shoved the tables aside, muscled through the crowd—and found Leo and his friends in the middle of enthusiastically teaching people.
Sure, their form wasn't perfect. But no one was here for technique. They just needed an excuse for sweaty, eager physical contact.
Enemies meeting on the battlefield always see red.
Eddie stormed up and roughly grabbed Leo's arm.
A second later, he was staring at the ceiling.
"Oh, whoops—sorry, reflex," Leo said lightly.
The sight of Eddie flat on the floor—and Leo's deadpan words—made the surrounding crowd roar with laughter.
Eddie's cronies tried to intervene, but these were newly arrived, fired-up freshmen.
They weren't about to defer to these rich-boy flunkies.
Ever since Eddie had gotten into college, he'd been treated like royalty wherever he went.
He'd never been humiliated like this.
He shook with rage, but he also knew he and his hangers-on were no match for Leo and his crew.
Just as he was plotting how to salvage some dignity, one of his lackeys leaned in close and whispered:
"President—Evelyn's here."
Hearing that, Eddie shot Leo a venomous glare and quickly straightened out his rumpled clothes from the fall.
His real reason for being here tonight was Evelyn.
After all, Thomas had only one granddaughter.
It was practically accepted wisdom across the entire Virginia political scene: whoever married Evelyn would gain access to Thomas's powerful network.
Whether it was to fulfill his father's ambitions or his own dreams of politics, landing Evelyn was the perfect move.
Of course, there was also the fact that ever since Evelyn had enrolled two years ago, Eddie had been lusting after her beauty.
He'd launched an all-out campaign to win her over, though she remained cold and distant, barely giving him the time of day.
He'd even bribed her roommate Judy to feed him inside information.
Originally, he hadn't planned to come tonight—he was too busy with the chaos at the company over the bubble houses.
But the moment Judy tipped him off that Evelyn was getting her gown ready for the ball, he had to show up.
Evelyn was gliding over in a flowing purple gown.
In real life, there's no such thing as an "official campus queen."
There were plenty of other pretty girls at the ball.
But when Evelyn appeared, her wildness, playfulness, dignity, and elegance all blended into one magnetic presence.
Instantly, the other girls seemed to fade into the background.
Eddie felt his heart race as Evelyn approached, smiling brilliantly, eyes locked on his.
His pulse leapt.
This was the first time Evelyn had ever smiled at him like that.
Of course, he wasn't dumb enough to think she'd suddenly warmed to him on her own.
He guessed that she was smiling because of pressure from her grandfather Thomas.
Everyone with eyes in Virginia politics could see that Thomas and Harry's alliance was on the ropes.
Clint would soon have the state under his thumb.
In Eddie's mind, marrying Evelyn was Thomas's only good move left.
He shot a glance at Leo standing nearby and sneered inwardly:
Smart doesn't matter. In America, guys like me make the rules.
So what if he'd been knocked down?
Once he was dancing with Evelyn, he'd be the center of attention again.
As Evelyn got closer, Eddie put on what he thought was his most charming, refined smile and stepped forward.
Three steps away, he bowed gracefully and held out his hand.
"Beautiful Miss Morton, may I have this dance?"
He said it loud, wanting the whole hall to hear.
He was already picturing the envy in everyone's eyes. He'd even planned exactly how he'd humiliate Leo while holding Evelyn close.
One second... two... three...
He heard gasps of shock.
But he didn't feel the soft hand he was expecting.
Eddie looked up.
Evelyn wasn't there.
Instead he saw dozens of mocking, jeering faces.
Where the hell did she go?!
He followed the pointing fingers of his lackey, turned—and his mind went blank.
There was his goddess, in that stunning purple gown—
In Leo's arms.
Spinning and turning freely with him.
The brighter Evelyn's smile got, the deeper Eddie's humiliation burned.
He glared at the pair like he wanted to kill them.
Especially Leo.
He swore to himself:
When my father crushes Thomas and Leo's company goes bankrupt, I'll turn Leo into Swiss cheese.
While Leo and Evelyn were dancing...
A nondescript sedan quietly pulled up in front of an unremarkable house in Richmond's Jackson Ward.
The butler, Doug, got out and cautiously scanned the area.
When he was sure no one was watching, he knocked on the window.
As soon as Clint stepped out of the car, Doug popped open a large black umbrella, keeping it low to cover Clint's face.
Once they were inside, another car—a first-generation Cadillac 62—pulled in behind them.
A curvy blonde woman got out and headed inside.
Doug stayed outside smoking, eyes always moving.
Above his head, though, someone was descending silently on a rope to the second-floor window.
Through a gap in the badly drawn curtains, they saw Clint and the woman—both stark naked, rolling together.
The watcher pulled out a spy camera and quietly snapped photo after photo.
Later that night, at the Virginia FBI safehouse...
Kent accepted the camera from his subordinate.
"You got it all?"
"Yes, sir. No question. Our dear governor is a real pervert—he could have any woman he wants, and he chooses his son's wife."
"After you leave this room, keep your mouth shut. Get this film developed and bring it right back to me."
In the FBI's darkroom, the technician did his work under Kent's watchful eye.
When the prints were done, Kent's man took them carefully.
"Remember to keep your mouth shut," he ordered.
After they left, the usually quiet technician's face turned grim.
He changed clothes quickly and left the safehouse, twisting and turning through side streets until he reached a payphone.
"Doug? Tell the governor—the FBI has photos of him screwing his daughter-in-law."
Doug hung up the phone and walked into a restaurant.
The Clint family was enjoying a warm, happy dinner.
Doug let his gaze drift meaningfully toward Clint's eldest son, Gray, and Gray's wife, Emma.
Then he leaned in and murmured the news into Clint's ear.
"You all keep eating. I need to handle something."
Clint strode into his study and picked up the phone.
"This is Henry Wallace."
Hearing the vice president's voice on the other end, Clint immediately sat up straight, answering with the utmost respect:
"Henry, I need your help. I'm willing to give up the national lead on the bubble houses."
"A wise choice."
After explaining his predicament, Clint hung up and let out a long, exhausted sigh.
The crisis that could have ended his political career was averted.
When he walked back out of the study, he gave Doug a stinging slap.
"Doug, remember this slap. Your mistake just added years to how long it'll take me to reach Washington."