Christopher paced the length of the room, his fingers threading through his hair as if trying to physically comb the frustration out of his mind.
The air was thick with the acrid scent of cigar smoke, mingling with the faint, rich aroma of the whiskey Clinton had just poured.
The faint clink of glass against wood echoed as Clinton leaned against the edge of the desk, his body language exuding a mixture of disbelief and amusement.
Clinton’s laughter erupted suddenly, a booming sound that reverberated off the walls. He set the glass down with a loud clunk, clutching his stomach as tears pricked the corners of his eyes.
“Oh my God,” he managed between gasps, doubling over in mirth. “Chris, you didn’t just sleep with her. You impregnated her? A girl that’s, what? Ten years younger? And
