I’d wanted to be free of him.
But even though I reminded myself of this fact while sitting near the bottom of the staircase in my parents’ home, I felt a twinge of disappointment that our weekend away wasn’t happening. Damien had dropped me off ten minutes ago, along with my unpacked suitcase—unceremoniously dumping me back to square one.
Back to this palatial home on Chain Bridge Road. Though not as impressive as our estate back in Texas, it had a library, a wine cellar, and a media space. There were more than enough rooms to get lost in and enough life within the walls to keep a staff of five busy.
Not wanting to accept that our weekend had been cut short, I remained sitting in the dark, not wanting to take that walk of shame up the stairs to my bedroom. I should be tired—it was 2:00 A.M.—but the way I’d been hurried out of Seascape had filled me with trepidation and I was too anxious to sleep.
I had never gotten used to these large houses and their strange noises; having spent so many years sleeping in private school dorms.
My parents were undoubtedly in bed. No doubt they’d be surprised to see me at breakfast in the morning.
Just thinking of Theo interrupting our intimate evening made me cringe. When I’d climbed into the back of the helicopter, I’d not been able to look him in the eyes, fearing he’d guessed what we’d been doing. Since he and Damien shared a place in the city, I was certain they knew each other well enough to talk about such things.
I’d fallen asleep in the helicopter with my head resting on Damien’s shoulder. The fact he’d let me stay so close to him felt like a small victory.
I expected the month leading up to the election would be strained, but I’d not foreseen this level of chaos, or that it would encroach on my life to this extent.
My fingers trailed along my forearm in a self-soothing gesture, as I tried to mimic how I’d been caressed so seductively in that lofty hideaway.
Damien was devastatingly charismatic. Time with him was never boring, which was probably why I was already missing him. My hands cupped my still sensitive breasts, my body tingling all over as I thought about what Damien had done to me…the memory of that blinding orgasm making me shudder.
Seeing his steely armor relax a little had me liking him all over again.
Damien could easily be invited into the center of my fantasies where I could mold him into doing what I wanted in my imagination.
I sat there wondering what had been so important to drag him away, hoping it didn’t have anything to do with his father’s campaign. It had been grueling, but the Senator had held up well for a man of sixty-two. He seemed to thrive on the stress.
But having his strategist fly all the way out to the beach house to retrieve his son was a clue that something serious had happened.
“Pandora?” my mom whispered from the top of the stairs.
I turned to see her wearing that familiar Oscar de la Renta satin robe with the feathered cuffs.
I cringed. “Did I wake you?”
“The car lights woke me up.”
“Sorry.” I stood and ascended the stairs. “Damien had to come back.”
“Right.” There was no surprise in her tone. “He couldn’t leave you at the beach house?”
“Um…no.”
Her eyes widened when she saw the engagement ring. “He proposed?”
If throwing a ring across the room could be called a proposal.
She examined my hand and her eyes watered with the emotion of someone who hadn’t seen this coming. She’d virtually shoved me at the man at the Debutante Ball.
“They announced it in the Times.” I studied her reaction. “You didn’t see it?”
She reached out to hold me. “I’m happy for you, Pandora.”
Relaxing a little, I hoped she wouldn’t smell champagne and cigarettes and sex on me. What would Mom think if she knew about those red silken ties? The ones that had made my wrists tingle deliciously.
“You look tired,” she said soothingly.
“Do you know why Damien might have been called back?” I asked.
My father appeared down the hallway. “Everything okay?”
“She has a ring,” Mom told him.
He approached us, peering over his spectacles at us as he passed by. Heading down the stairs, he said, “I’m going to get a nightcap.”
That’s strange. I hadn’t expected him to gush over the emerald, but actually taking the time to look at my ring would have been nice.
When he’d disappeared from sight, I asked, “Is he even happy for me?”
With a gesture, my mother offered to walk me to my room.
My throat tightened. “What happened?”
“Not here,” she whispered, as though hinting a wayward member of staff might overhear.
Just as we had on all those days since Jefferson had left home, we swapped a knowing glance when we reached my brother’s room. It was only used when he was in town because he lived in Texas.
My rambunctious older brother had hurtled loudly into manhood. I missed him, but his place was in Dallas running the business as the CEO of Bardot Petroleum. The role filled his days and gave him nightmares.
There were suffocating expectations for everyone living beneath this roof. This was the umbrella of doom we all huddled under.
Mom sat on the edge of the bed and patted the duvet so I would join her. It was a sweet gesture she’d begun using when I’d reached my late teens when she wanted to have a talk.
The gray hairs I saw now had softened her appearance, and so had the lines on her fiercely beautiful face. She had become gentler since entering her fifties, and not so insistent on everything going her way.
Sitting beside her with my head resting on her shoulder, it was easy to pretend we had always been this close.
“How did he seem?” she asked softly.
“Damien?” I swallowed hard at her potential disappointment. “Fine.”
She looked wistful. “I hear the views from his beach house are spectacular. Maybe we’ll come visit.”
“I’d like that.”
Thank goodness that bedroom in Damien’s house was tucked away—no chance of a wayward visitor wandering up there.
She rested her hand on mine. “Go talk to your father. Reassure him that you’ll do what you can, that you’ll talk to Damien. Maybe you’ll be able to persuade him to make this go away.”
“Make what go away?”
She looked worried. “During the party, your father was approached by Salvatore Galante.”
“The head of Real Nation?”
Flinching, I realized what she was saying. “Did they clash?”
“Galante has a reputation for being…disreputable.”
Searching her face, I wasn’t sure if I was ready to know what had happened between them. Had Galante insulted the Senator? Thanks to the news stories dished out on his channel, it was well known that he disagreed with the Senator’s politics. He released a constant barrage of hate-fueled criticism on how Godman’s term in office would ruin the economy.
Had Dad tried to defend Gregor?
“What happened?”
Mom sighed. “Galante told your father he’s going to release a story on something that happened in your father’s past.”
“A story?” A spike of adrenaline had me pushing to my feet.
“We’re not sure what he has yet, but there’s still a chance we can suppress it. It’s all in Gregor Godman’s hands now. It’s his decision.”
Her words echoed in my mind, forming garish images. What had Dad done? Or had this town finally seen the threat my father posed and turned against him, spewing lies and twisting truths?
“Dad might lose his place in the Cabinet?” I asked.
“Perhaps.”
“I’m sure Damien will speak with the Senator.”
“Go tell your father that. Put his mind at ease.”
The thought of asking Damien for such a favor filled me with dread—but there seemed no c
hoice in the matter.
I threw Mom a reassuring smile, feeling a sudden sense of pride that it could be me who influenced my father’s position in that historic house on the hill.
I headed back downstairs.
Dad sat in the dark nursing a tumbler of his favorite scotch, seemingly lost in thought, his expression grave. The years he’d spent striving for this very opportunity now hung in the balance. He’d given up running the company to take this chance. He’d sacrificed so much.
Sitting at his feet, I looked up at him. “You don’t have to tell me.”
He finished off his drink and rested the empty glass on his thigh. “We make the best decisions we can with the information we’ve got. You can’t predict the future.”
His confession of wrongdoing made me look away; I didn’t want to believe my daddy was capable of anything scandalous.
“Maybe the Senator can make the story go away?” I whispered.
He stared down at me, a melancholy look in his eyes. “Jefferson was always so easy…his future set to follow mine. But you…you were always destined for greatness of another sort.”
This was a bad time to bring up the fact I might have wanted to be part of the company myself. Damien had already told me I was selfish, and the fact I was thinking of my own future was proof of that.
I wanted to be a better person. “Another drink, Daddy?”
“Early on, your mother and I thought having a governess to focus on you would tame you.”
“I think they call those the terrible twos,” I joked, even though there was nothing funny about it.
I’d been placed into the hands of a strict governess when I was a toddler. And there had been several others after her. In my memory, their faces were sewn into a tapestry of discipline, all of those impossible expectations leading up to my tenth birthday.
No further care was needed at home because I was sent to school in Switzerland. Back then, I had no idea there’d be no coming home to live with my parents until I’d turned nineteen. Since I’d returned to live in this house, I had been trying to get to know these strangers again—while my father launched his new career.
Back in Texas, remnants of my childhood lingered in our family home. My old bedroom had helped me recover memories of the years I’d thought gone—dolls and games and toys waiting for me upon my return as though I’d been frozen in time in my mother’s mind. All of these frivolities had now been thrown away.
My bedroom décor here was a reflection of what kind of woman my mother had hoped I’d become. It was a space filled with perfect furniture and pristine patterns—fancy wallpaper and plush carpeting. No TV allowed.
At nineteen, I’d begged for my own apartment in the city, wanting to escape this swanky suburb and have some freedom.
My parents had other plans in mind for me.
The independence I craved would never be part of the deal. Not long before my twentieth birthday, I’d been formally introduced to Damien. And then told to wait for him.
Merely a few months after that, he was ready.
“I’ll go see Damien tomorrow,” I said softly.
I’d beg him to do whatever he could to make this problem go away, to persuade his father not to turn away from mine. After everything we’d shared, after he’d given me this ring, surely he would be willing to help.
What happened all those years ago?
What kind of scandal were we talking about?
The time I’d spent with Damien at Seascape had brought us closer, his touch lighting me on fire with an unmatched passion. Perhaps he, too, felt the burn of my affection. Perhaps he saw a future for us that would include love.
Maybe he was thinking of me now.
The true testament of what we were to each other would be revealed when I asked him to help us…help my father realize his dream of walking through the hallowed halls of the White House.
Great men had done worse, surely? These aspersions couldn’t be proven. Slander could be struck down in a lawsuit. A man like Senator Godman, who wielded more money and potentially more power than anyone else in this country, could make this go away.
“Damien will do anything for me, Daddy.”
His hand stroked my hair. “I hope you’re right.”
My gut twisted in doubt.
I got up and poured my dad another drink. When I handed him the glass, I leaned over and kissed the top of his head, and then left him alone with his scotch.
As soon as I returned to my room, I whipped out my phone and texted Damien. I thanked him for the lovely time I’d had; it was half true. Anyway, Daddy needed me to come through for him.
A moment later I stared at my phone’s screen in disbelief. My message couldn’t be delivered. Damien had blocked my number.
Peering through the window of the closed lecture room door, I could see she was attractive…and tall, too. Madeline Rhodes had captured the full attention of the hundred or so students filling the theatre seats all the way to the back. Years ago, she’d captured Damien’s full attention as well. According to Google, they’d once been lovers—and it was supposedly true that they’d remained good friends.
From what she’d scribbled on the whiteboard behind her, I had to believe she was smart. This was high-level statistics.
Damien preferred brunettes, apparently. The red blouse and black pencil skirt wearing kind with pointed heels and perfect makeup.
Rhodes would be free in minutes, according to the class schedule, which meant I didn’t have much longer to practice what I was going to say to her. I needed to gain her trust and get her to open up and share her insights on how to win Damien’s heart.
Or even just to get him to unblock me, for God’s sake.
Madeline seemed to sense me staring at her through the glass.
We locked eyes.
Two women with one man in common. We moved in different circles…she in academia and me amongst Washington’s elite, never destined to meet. Much to Damien’s relief, no doubt.
I wondered if her piercing blue eyes and mature beauty were a possible distraction to her class. She stood by the podium with confidence, commanding the room without compromise.
She ended the lecture with a casual gesture to her audience. Stepping back, I waited for the Georgetown University students to trail out. They threw curious glances my way as they headed into the hall. Soon, the seats were all empty and the senior lecturer was available.
She held the advantage.
“May I come in?” I asked, approaching the podium.
She picked up a leather satchel. “You’re already in.”
Rhodes was Damien’s type, all right. Or maybe she was his match. Either way she had an intimidating presence.
I paused a few feet away and glanced down at her blood red toenails. “Do you know who I am?”
“Most people know who you are.”
Yes, because those long lenses had captured my childhood and they had followed me as I’d grown up—the downside of having an infamous father.
“I was wondering if I could have a few minutes of your time?” I said.
She had the kind of pouty mouth a man would like—enhanced with bright red lipstick. She had tasted Damien’s cock with those lips. And he’d tasted her, too.
“Walk with me.” She motioned for me to follow. “I’m assuming you’re not here to discuss the graduate program?”
We left the lecture hall and I hurried after her, trying to keep up. “I respect that you’re busy.”
She shoved at a door and held it open for me. “You’ve got me intrigued.”
I slid by and entered her office.
We’d been standing so close that I’d had no choice but to brush against her, feeling her firm body against mine, realizing that Damien knew every inch of her.
Had he tied her down, too?
A million questions circled in my mind. How long had they dated? Why were they no longer together?
“Thirsty?” She gestured to a small fridge.
>
“Yes, please.”
“Coke?”
“Yes, anything. Whatever’s easiest.”
She studied me. “You’re very compliant.”
Stacks of exam papers rose high on her desk next to an expensive-looking blue lamp. A glass paperweight pressed down on a few letters waiting to be opened. A laptop had been tossed on a file cabinet, its power cord twisted.
“Thank you for seeing me. I didn’t call ahead—”
“No, you didn’t.” Her sternness stayed with her all the way across the room. She knelt and opened a fridge door, reaching in for a chilled can of Diet Coke.
She strolled over to a cabinet and pulled out a tall glass, then cracked open the can. The brown, sugary liquid fizzed all the way to the top as she poured it into the glass—tipping the can in a way that made her look even more sophisticated.
“Dr. Rhodes, you have the advantage of knowing me.” I chose one of the two seats before her desk, thinking of all of the students who had sat here being berated.
“A quick Internet search and you could find out more about me.” Her eyes twinkled as she gave me a knowing look. “But you’ve already done that.”
I gave her a sheepish smile. “What exactly do you know about me?”
She handed me the glass of Coke. “Your mother must have a thing for mythology.”
“I was teased for it.”
“Being named Pandora?”
“The girl who allowed all the evils of the world to escape.” I flicked a blonde lock out of my face. “My namesake had a lot more fun.”
Madeline smirked as she sank into the chair behind her desk. “Now that’s something I’d pay to watch.”
I paused for a moment, and then asked, “What’s wrong with your laptop?”
She glanced at it with surprise.
“Did it crash?” I took a sip of Coke, and added, “I can have a look if you like.”
Her surprised look morphed into one of suspicion. “No, thank you, that won’t be necessary. Why did you want to speak to me, Ms. Bardot?”
I swallowed hard and then found my courage. “Why did you and Damien split up? You’re beautiful and smart, and clearly accomplished.”
Pandora's Pleasure: An Enemies-to-Lovers Romance Page 5