“Say something.” He tipped up my chin.
He was taller than his brother and a lot stronger—and if at all possible, crueler.
“You’ve not talked to me all night, Mr. Godman.”
“It’s Damien, for Christ’s sake. Is that what this is…you want more attention?”
“Yes and no.”
His expression softened. “You look pretty tonight. Though you always do.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” I said sarcastically.
“Don’t look at me like that. You may come from old money, but your father still needs mine.”
“We both know I’m marrying beneath me.” I regretted the words as soon as they left my mouth.
“Always a charmer, Ms. Bardot.”
It was true his family had climbed the social ladder for decades. They may have amassed an astounding fortune, but their legacy had nothing on the centuries-old noble succession of my family. Which was where I came in, evidently.
“Where does your accent come from?” he asked, scolding me. “At times, you almost sound like Jackie Kennedy.”
“Well, I’ve been molded since birth to accommodate you and your family—to be the perfect trophy wife. I hope to balance your uncouth ways the best I can.”
I rushed out of the bathroom but he caught up to me immediately and dragged me against his chest, holding me tight. We were alone in the hallway.
“If you continue with your rebellion, I will have to correct your behavior.”
“Did I strike a nerve, Mr. Godman? Being reminded I’m too good for you must sting.”
His grip around my waist shot pressure into my spine.
“I’m protecting you from yourself.” His mouth loomed close to mine.
I was panting softly, feeling his breath on my lips, his cock pressing into my belly.
“I don’t want to announce our engagement tonight,” I whispered.
“Want to tell me why?”
“I need more time.”
“I’m afraid it can’t be stopped.”
“Please, Damien.”
He let out a long sigh. “You exasperate me.”
“Do what you can.”
“Let me think on it.” Damien leaned in again to brush his lips over mine—teasing me.
My sex throbbed in response to his dark flirting…and he knew it—knew that even if my eyes showed him defiance, my body couldn’t help but respond to his charisma and the masterful way he dominated me. Perhaps my infatuation would never be shaken. I’d crushed on the Senator’s son at that Debutante Ball because I’d been too innocent to see it was a match-making endeavor. My coming out party presented me as a woman who was ready to be plucked.
“A fruit in need of bruising.” He’d teased me with those very words the night we’d met. “To draw out your sweetness.”
Our first dance together had made my girlfriends jealous. I’d been too naive to realize that the look of excitement on my parents’ faces had been because of their successful scheming to have me marry into this family.
To make me his.
Make me a Godman.
Damien gave me a predatory smile—his prey subdued by the strength of his hold and the dominating way he’d captured me. It would be easy to bite his lip, show more rebellion. I was burning up with the heat he radiated from all that hidden passion.
He smirked. “I don’t want any evidence of my discipline to appear at the cocktail party. Maybe after everyone’s gone.”
I flinched as though he’d already hit me. “Don’t.”
“I don’t mean to strike you, Pandora. I’m not a Neanderthal.” His glare narrowed. “You’re like this because you crave discipline.”
I turned my head, refusing to look in his eyes.
His warm breath kissed my cheek. “You’re so damn needy. This is why you defy me. You’re constantly craving what only I can give you.” His thumb rubbed over my bottom lip and dipped into my mouth; as sensual as it was forbidden. “I’ve arranged for the house at Seascape to be made ready.”
That almost made my knees buckle.
He was talking about his private oceanside home that was a helicopter flight from here. The place I’d only heard about. The Godmans had homes all around the world, including New York, Milan, France, and England. I’d never be able to run from Seascape. It was in the middle of nowhere.
Damien’s mother had hinted her eldest son might whisk me away tonight after the party, and she’d smiled as she’d delivered the news. Those other things she’d spoken of threatened to haunt my nightmares forever.
I refused to think of them now.
“You and I will spend the weekend at Seascape.” He gave a nod. “I believe that once you and I get to know each other better, you’ll relax around me.”
Did he mean sleep together?
“We have to wait—”
“Go back to the ballroom and pretend you want to be there. Then you and I will have the rest of the evening to ourselves.”
He let me go and I headed down the hallway. I was shaking uncontrollably.
“Pandora,” he called after me.
I stopped walking, waiting for him to continue without looking back, not wanting to see the victory in his eyes.
“Remember you’re a collector’s item.” Damien quickly closed the gap between us, standing right behind me to speak softly in my ear. “Behave as such.”
“There are other women out there you might prefer.”
He brushed a fingertip along my bare shoulder. “Be a good girl. Don’t make me regret not punishing you for your indiscretion.”
I nodded, feeling a shiver run down my spine. “Tell your brother to keep his hands off me.”
“I will deal with him. Now off you go.”
I hurried along the hallway in the direction of the ballroom, my heart pounding in my ears and Damien’s cologne clinging to me, his amber scent scorching my psyche. My continued yearning for him was poisoning me.
As I neared the ballroom where the prestigious guests had gathered for the evening, I raised my chin preparing to face all of these strangers again. I needed to put the fear out of my mind—the fear of being alone with Damien later in some secluded house.
“Miss Bardot!”
I turned to face one of the Godman’s staff—a burly man wearing a tuxedo.
“Senator Godman wants to see you in his office.”
Fine hairs prickled on the back of my neck. “Damien requested that I go directly to the ballroom.”
“This way, please.” The man gestured toward a door at the other end of the hallway.
I wanted to listen to my intuition and refuse to be in the same room alone with Gregor Godman.
The tuxedo-clad man was already opening the office door. “Don’t keep the Senator waiting.”
Where was she going?
From the end of the hallway, I watched Pandora walk elegantly into his office.
Her deportment was born out of a fierce schooling at the Institut auf dem Rosenberg in St. Gallen. Sadly, a place where she’d spent most of her life. Studying in Switzerland had kept her far away from her parents. It made me wonder if all that loneliness was the cause of her flaws; she’d been overindulged in everything. Except love, I suppose.
She displayed a natural grace, but suffered from a terrible naivety. And goddamn was she beautiful.
I’d ordered her to proceed directly to the ballroom.
I made my way down the hallway to my father’s office.
The guard outside raised his hand to stop me. “Sorry, sir. I’ve been instructed by the Senator that no one is to interrupt his meeting.”
“Seriously?”
He gave a nod. “Miss Bardot’s father is in there, too.”
That information lessened the tension by a fraction.
“Your father has a meeting with Salvatore Galante in ten minutes,” the guard added, hinting they wouldn’t be long.
That’s right.
Dad had invited over the Chair
man and CEO of Real Nation One TV, the gnarly television executive who’d built a network from the ground up. Half the population was addicted to his wily news stories that pumped vitriol and well-fluffed lies onto the airwaves. Keeping Galante waiting would be as bad as pissing on a wedding cake in full view of the guests. The repercussions would be endless.
Backing off, I put some distance between me and the door and waited for Pandora to come out.
This could have been prevented. My instructions had been clear. I’d tried to protect her from my family, only so far she’d done a stellar job of leaving herself exposed to all of them.
Her scent lingered in my imagination, fanning the flames of my arousal. My dick chastised me for not banging her against the wall. Agreeably a monstrous act but I’d been in a bad mood for over a decade and couldn’t shake my arrogance. This was what my family did…we took what we wanted whether we’d earned it or not.
Pandora was exceptionally pretty, but having a woman forced on you tends to dull your appetite for marriage.
Though I had agreed with my father on one thing—her family’s legacy was impressive. The Bardots had a prestigious ancestry that included old money and remarkable connections. Her father, Brenan Bardot, was an oil baron who’d come to Washington with political aspirations. He’d left his eldest son to run his empire in Texas so he could swagger around the city and take aim at the White House.
What pairs well with a billion-dollar oil empire? A dynasty of bankers. Our legacy had been forged from diverse investing and our knack for managing money—making millionaires into billionaires. Unlike the Bardots, we were only three generations away from when we had made our mark on this shitty world.
Before becoming a senator, my father had ruled the financial markets as a brilliant tycoon at the helm of our trillion-dollar company. He’d handed over his philanthropic endeavors for me to manage, which meant my life had a purpose, at least.
Dad had his eye on the ultimate prize for someone desirous of eternal prestige—President of the good ole’ US of A.
Both sets of parents, mine and Pandora’s, were set on forging a bloodline between our families. If we didn’t kill each other first. Our mutual hate went even deeper than Bardot’s offshore oilrigs that drilled into the ocean floor, fucking up everything in their wake.
I’d done what I could to prepare Pandora for tonight. I’d gone so far as to give her a list of guests so she could study their individual interests and engage in insightful conversations. I’d needed her to shine. Her usefulness stretched only that far.
Instead, she’d extracted herself from the function—and almost driven off in my car, for God’s sake.
She had to regret it now. This was my overriding thought as I gave the guard a stern warning and barged into my father’s office.
I chose to stand at the back of the room so I could watch the show continue to unfold. Two more security guards were positioned behind my father’s desk. Pandora’s father stood before the bookcase with his back ramrod straight and his arms folded. His cold expression could have put out a fire.
This meeting wasn’t about making Pandora feel safer—this was about threatening her with what might happen if she didn’t comply.
No one walked out on my father. The Senator had a knack for smelling blood in the water a world away, and he went in for the kill without blinking.
Even sharks blinked when they sliced you open.
Pandora sat in a chair in the middle of the room with her back to me. I didn’t need to see her face to know she felt intimidated. She seemed to have fixed her stare on my father, ignoring her own dad.
I imagined there was no love lost there. Who gives up their daughter for personal gain? Even Brenan’s social-climbing wife, who held her own level of influence in this town as well as in Texas, only wanted more.
Pandora turned and glanced back at me with a hopeful expression. I found it endearing, but now that she was in here there was nothing I could do for her.
My father had strategized and committed a number of questionable deeds to reach the dizzying height of frontrunner. Having a loose cannon like Pandora threaten his progress had left him riled, which was apparent from the way his jaw flexed with quiet rage.
He stood at his oak desk, immune to fear, his shock of white hair revealing his age. Senator Gregor Godman carried the air of a gentleman who knew his fate was to change history.
There was no doubt I was halfway to becoming the same kind of monster. My darkest traits mirrored his…I, too, craved having control over a room full of powerful men.
Only I could alter the course of the trouble heading Pandora’s way.
Besides her beauty and grace, Pandora’s youth and optimism were valuable assets. Her naivety was annoying, but it would allow her to be molded into the perfect trophy wife.
But right now she was a spoiled princess.
How dare she walk out on an event where she’d been the main attraction? She was the quintessential debutante—the Jackie Kennedy of our times. The woman who would ensure my father would win votes from the youngest generation. Her feminine elegance was the only thing lacking in our brand.
“Pandora,” my father’s tone sounded polite as he rested his palm on a closed file, “excuse our unusual brand of hospitality.”
She drew in a breath. “I was just getting some air—”
He shot me a glance and smiled. “We understand that what is being asked of you could be overwhelming. Trust me, I’ve been on the campaign trail for months and it’s a grueling schedule. You can’t even imagine the time and effort, and of course the billions of dollars, it took to get us here.”
“I respect that, sir.”
He lifted the file. “You’re quite accomplished.”
“That’s on me?” she asked, gesturing at the folder.
“This collection of records is impeccable, Pandora.” Dad offered her a kind smile. “Don’t make me add a negative addendum.”
Pandora turned to look at me, her crystal blue eyes begging for help. I saw her come to the stark realization that she was on her own. Her expression changed to one of resilience as she twisted around to face my father.
Her breathing was ragged, causing her breasts to rise and fall, which was unwittingly bewitching. Here was a damsel who wasn’t getting saved.
Pandora was the equivalent of the Hope Diamond—the most expensive jewel in the world, but other than its legendary beauty, quite useless.
But that in itself was a rare gift, really. She was ready to be dominated and then subjugated. She deserved to be treated better, but seeing her vulnerable stirred too much pleasure. My flesh ignited as my mind delivered the images of what I would do to her if given the chance.
I would finally get to have her in every conceivable way.
I would strip her naked and then fuck her into oblivion.
My cock ached at the thought as I stared at Pandora.
“You have a beautiful daughter, Brenan.” Dad’s attention moved over to Pandora’s father. “I’m glad for this match with my son.”
“We’re sorry for her behavior,” said Brenan, his voice void of emotion.
“A small detail that’s easily dealt with,” I said.
That comment made everyone look my way.
After all, the dark gods had delivered her to us. And now she was mine.
“Give me your phone.” Dad held his hand out.
Pandora unclipped her clutch purse and reached inside. She handed the phone over to my father with a puzzled look.
He offered it to me. “Less of this.”
Stepping forward, I took the phone from him. My father was right…she seemed to be addicted to the device, using it during the party when she should have been chatting with our distinguished guests. I’d delete her apps later.
She watched me tuck her smartphone into my jacket pocket. “Can I go now?”
“Address my father as sir,” I chastised.
Pandora shifted uncomfortably. “Sorry.”
“She’s very young,” Dad said to me, his tone mild. “Considering what’s expected.”
“Which is why she’s perfect,” I advised.
“True,” Brenan Bardot agreed.
Talk about throwing your daughter to the wolves; that man’s ambitions were shameless.
With no ex-lovers to cause a scandal, Pandora would make an ideal bride. If the time ever came for me to follow in my father’s footsteps and hold office, she’d make an elegant First Lady.
I strolled over to the liquor cabinet and removed a bottle of Diamond Jubilee. After using tongs to fill three tumblers with ice, I poured some of the amber liquid into each one.
“Whisky?” I offered one to Brenan and gave the other glass to my father, keeping the third for myself.
Dad took a sip and then said, “Pandora, tonight we’re going to announce your father as a potential candidate in my Cabinet.”
Her expression remained unchanged because she already knew her parents had made the ultimate deal by offering her. The price of power for a daughter’s future.
“Which is why,” I said, my eyes meeting hers, “we should hold off on announcing our engagement tonight.” I watched the relief settle over Pandora’s face.
I gave her a wink. She’d pleaded with me to delay sharing our news with the world. I needed to get her to trust me and this situation worked just fine.
“Are you sure?” asked my father.
“Let’s focus on Mr. Bardot.” I turned to Brenan. “Let’s create the illusion I got to know Pandora better on the campaign trail. We’ll be able to spin it as us sharing the same core values.”
Pandora looked back at me with gratitude.
Approaching her, I ran my fingers through her blonde locks and let them tumble over her shoulders. Looking up, she fixed her grateful gaze on me and I tilted the rim of the tumbler so she could taste my whisky. She was too young to drink, but I thrived on making her break the law in front of everyone as a daring gesture in present company.
“Do you love my son?” asked Dad.
“Yes, sir,” she said breathlessly. “Of course.”
He offered her a thin smile of approval.
“What was my order earlier, Pandora?” My voice sounded husky from the whisky.
Pandora's Pleasure: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Page 2