Corrupt Practices

by Penelope L'Amoreaux

  Corrupt Practices

  Penelope L’Amoreaux

  Copyright 2015 Penelope L’Amoreaux

  All rights reserved

  This is a work of fiction. Any similarities between the characters in this story and persons in real life is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Excerpt

  Author’s Note

  Chapter One

  Oh balls-- she was going to be late.

  Mariel’s palms were sweating and she could feel the slight glisten of sweat starting on her chest that stemmed from the panic she was now feeling. Well, the combination of panic and the tight press of bodies on the metro. Everyone was jammed close together, briefcases bumping legs and hands wrapped tightly around coffees lest they spill onto a fellow commuter.

  It was Mariel’s first day at her new job, a prestigious internship for dashing and bold Senator Taylor, and she was running late. She tossed her hair over her shoulder and glanced nervously at the upcoming stops. Only two more to go.

  Her shoulders were already knotted in frustration. She wasn’t this kind of person--the kind of person who was late to anything. She was neat, punctual, a creature of habit. Like how she started every morning with tea and yoga. Except for this morning, of course, when she had been too nervous to do her normal routine.

  In the crowded car, she was grateful for the slim, petite frame years of yoga gave her. It kept her from having to be pressed too closely to the people around her. It also made her appear much younger than her twenty three years, which sometimes irked her.

  She studied the other women on the train. They were tall and elegant, in grays and blacks. All sharp lines and long legs. Their hair pulled into tight chignons and their makeup was perfection.

  Mariel felt juvenile with her backpack (she didn’t own a briefcase) and flouncy skirt-and-cardigan combo. When she was able to save some money, she thought, she’d buy a sharp looking pencil skirt and a briefcase. Her cheeks burned when she realized how immature she looked, but there wasn’t anything to be done about it. What passed for fashion in her small town in North Carolina clearly was not what was fashionable in the capital.

  Finally, her stop, Alexandria. When she had first looked at internships, she had moved to Washington D.C. Her first job was out of the city, though, and it meant commuting to Virginia.

  She leapt off of the train, practically running to the open plaza where her new job was located. She raced up the marble steps and into the stately building that housed Senator Taylor’s staff. Glancing at her watch, she slowed down. She was on time-- barely.

  As soon as she walked through the ornate, heavy oak doors and breathed in the smell of paper and stress, she knew she was in the right place. Around her people were already bustling, their conversations happening at rapid clips, their heels clicking as they raced from office to office. This was what she had dreamed of, and she was ready for it.

  “I thought there weren’t any school tours today! I don’t have time for this shit.” A prim, up-tight looking woman was glaring at her. She would have been gorgeous if she hadn’t been looking at Mariel with such distaste.

  “Um, I’m sorry?” Mariel asked, realizing the woman was addressing her.

  “You’re here for what? A tour? An interview for your school paper? Do you have an appointment?” The clipped pace the woman used caused Mariel to wince. An elegant, pointed-toed shoe tapped rapidly on the tiled floor.

  “No. I’m here to work. As an intern. I mean, I am supposed to be interning for Senator Taylor.”

  Confusion twisted the woman’s face as she looked more carefully at Mariel. Mariel couldn’t help but to feel judged as the woman’s steely glare swept over her, the lipsticked mouth pulled into a straight line. Mariel gnawed at her lip, wanting to hide and yet hoping she would pass whatever test this woman was obviously putting her through.

  “Huh. Well, you’ll need to hurry to meet the others. They’re already being introduced to Roger.”

  WHAT? But I’m on time! Mariel wanted to scream. She had worked so hard to be on time. She raced in the direction the woman pointed, careening between people until she heard the familiar voice of Roger Taylor. Hurtling around a corner, she saw a line of people, all around her age. They were standing straight-backed and formal, many of them in nice suits and expensive skirts. Envy torched through her.

  Mariel didn't think, she just moved into line; nodding at strange faces like she knew what she was doing. Like she was supposed to be there.

  You are supposed to be here.

  Right.

  She recognized Senator Taylor from the television and newspaper articles about him. She had listened to his speeches a hundred times to prepare for the interview for his office. She had known he was a younger politician, mid-thirties, and had always been good-looking whenever she’d seen him in the media. Billionaire becomes politician. His family had long been in politics, but apparently they invested well, too. Status, money, power. Those were the things the media focused on when they spoke of Senator Taylor.

  She was more impressed with his track record during his first term. Ignoring party politics, he seemed to push for bills that followed his heart, not an agenda.

  In person, she was shocked to see exactly how good looking he was. Sandy blond hair expertly styled, a finely tailored suit worth more than Mariel would make in several months that complemented an obviously athletic body; straight, white teeth… he was every inch the handsome, winning politician.

  He’d only been in the senate one term, but he had made more ripples in his short period than she had seen in years. Clean energy was his primary platform, and his willingness to battle lobbyists had endeared him to her. This was his first reelection campaign and she was lucky to have landed the job.

  His relaxed attitude set him apart from other politicians. Instead of seeming contrived or fake, his laugh and smile were genuine as he made his way down the row, shaking hands and getting the names of the other interns. When he reached her, he faltered a little in his step, but still stuck out his hand.

  Mariel grasped it firmly. It was a good handshake. Her father had taught her that. “Always grip them firm, Mare, and look’m in the eye.” It was one of the only things he had taught her before he had left her mother, abandoning her. She forced herself to meet his gaze, despite the fact that her palms were sweating in his grip.

  “Thank you for this opportunity, Senator Taylor.”

  He had crinkles next to his eyes when he smiled. His irises were a rich blue. “You’re most welcome, Miss...?”

  “Mariel Knowles, sir.” She prayed she sounded more confident than she felt.

  “Miss Knowles. It’s a pleasure to have you in my office. I saw you duck in at the last minute. I’m glad to see you weren't lost. I need all the help I can get from bright people like you.”

  He released her hand, turned, and walked away. Mariel realized that she had been holding her breath and exhaled slowly, knowing her cheeks were red.

  It was then that she felt a tingling, as if someone was watching her. Scanning the room, she found the culprit. Steely blue eyes, much like Senator Taylor’s, were locked on her. Instead of the crinkled and amused look that the senator had, this face was twisted into a scowl.

  Even
with the scowl, the man who was glaring at her was ridiculously handsome. His hard jaw was stubbled, but he made it look classy instead of lazy, the five o'clock shadow lending character. His skin was tan, making the blue of his eyes all the more clear. And his mouth… oh, his mouth, despite being pulled into a grimace, was sensual and full. The kind of mouth a girl would want all over her body.

  He was tall, he was sexy, and he was scaring the hell out of her. Her mouth went dry, tongue feeling huge and misplaced. When she was about to avert her eyes, he stalked over to her, the clean and fresh lines of his designer suit making the strut magical.

  “You’re late, Miss Knowles.”

  His voice. It was gravel mixed with honey, a low growl that made her stomach twitter uncomfortably.

  Still, Mariel was not the kind of girl to be cowed, even if she felt a small sheen of sweat beginning to form from his intense scrutiny and close proximity.

  “No, sir, I wasn’t. I was told to arrive at 9AM. I’ve been in the office since 8:55AM. If you’d like me here earlier, you simply need to ask.”

  The blue eyes narrowed and she watched the muscles in his jaw tighten. Through clenched teeth he muttered, “I don’t ask, Miss Knowles. I tell. We start at 8AM here.”

  “Then tomorrow, I will be here on time.” She straightened her shoulders, trying to feel less small. “I’m sorry for the miscommunication.” The last part she added, reinforcing that she wasn't wrong, hoping he would pick up on it.

  Mariel clasped her hands to still them—they were trembling. In one last push of bravado, she addressed her swoon-worthy inquisitor.

  “I’m sorry, sir, but… who are you?”

  The man rocked back on his heels, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at her. She might have imagined it, but Mariel thought she saw something similar in his eyes to that of Senator Taylor. It was a gleam of amusement.

  “My name is Dallas. Dallas Taylor. I’m your boss. I’m the one who decides if you sink or swim. So far, I’m expecting more of the former from you. I need to meet with some of the others and assign them work. The ones that were on time, that is. Why don’t you go make a pot of coffee and bring me a cup, and I’ll try to figure out what to do with you?”

  Before she could reply, he walked away.

  Dallas Taylor. Roger Taylor’s brother, of course. The similarity in their eyes hadn’t been a coincidence. Now that she connected the dots, she could see the resemblance clearly. She had read that Dallas was younger than his brother, though not by much. He was tall, well over six feet. His hair was darker than his brother’s, a warm chestnut color. Their faces were the only things they had in common, she realized with despair. Whereas Roger had been genuine, friendly, and warm to her, Dallas had been a complete, well, ass.

  Go make coffee? Mariel fumed. She hadn’t been late. She still had the email that stated work started at nine. Part of her longed to pull out her phone, pull up that email, and shove it in Dallas’s smug face.

  He said she was going to sink, though. The best way to prove him wrong, she knew, wasn’t to throw the obvious things in his face. It was to do each and every job he gave her, no matter how menial, to the best of her abilities. Hard work had brought her out of poverty. It had won her a full ride at a prestigious school and an interview for this job. It would win Dallas’s respect, too.

  Mariel set off to look for the coffee pot.

  * * * *

  The staff kitchen was disgusting. All of the coffee pots had burned coffee grounds caked to the bottom of them. The counters were covered in brown and yellow stains. Old Chinese food boxes had been left out from who knew how long and filled the small space with the smell of stale lo-mein. Shrugging off her backpack, Mariel grabbed each pot and dumped any remaining contents down the sink, suppressing the urge to gag as large, slimy gobs of gray mold caught in the drain. How could a family with so much money stand such squalid working conditions?

  She soaked the coffee pots while she managed to scrounge up some cleaning supplies and fresh garbage bags.

  Well, she might be overqualified for this work, but clearly no one had thought to take care of this area for a long time. Better her than no one.

  She threw away the old food containers and scrubbed the counters. She wouldn’t be able to completely remove the stains without a harsher solvent, but they already looked and smelled better. Going back to the sink, she drained the now-black water.

  Having rinsed the pots and started the coffee, she looked around in satisfaction. What had been a closet of disaster was now a clean, albeit dingy, staff kitchen. The aromas of roasted coffee quickly filled the kitchen. While she waited for it to brew, Mariel found cups, sugar, and creamer and set them out. She also found, tucked away in a tiny corner, lids for the cups.

  This will help with the spills and stains.

  Satisfaction filled her as she poured a cup for Dallas. Not knowing how he took it, she grabbed a packet of sugar and poured the tiniest bit of creamer in.

  Everyone had rough starts and bad first impressions from time to time. Dallas had said he’d thought she’d sink. Screw that. Mariel grabbed her backpack and his coffee, ready to show him she was damned well going to swim. Putting her backpack on, she went in search of her new boss, eager to impress.

  Chapter Two

  “What in the hell took you so long?” Dallas snatched the coffee from her hand. A little sloshed onto her wrist, burning the delicate skin. She yanked the wounded hand away, placing the tender spot in her mouth while his gaze tore into her.

  “I had to make the coffee, sir. It was, um, a little gross in there.” She kept nursing her hand after defending herself.

  “A little gross? What do you think this is? The fucking Ritz? It’s an office for political minions. Who cares if it’s gross?” He took a sip of the coffee, despite having seen the steam. He winced and Mariel had to bite her tongue to keep from muttering ‘it’s still hot.’

  “Why is there creamer in my coffee?”

  “I didn’t know how you take it. I had to guess. I brought you a sugar packet, too.”

  He rolled his eyes and Mariel sucked in her breath. She was a people-pleaser and his irritability was beginning to unnerve her. “Listen, Eager Beaver. Brown-nosing gets you nowhere with me. I expect fast, hard work here, not ass-kissing.”

  Mariel was tongue-tied, too flabbergasted to retort. Dallas loomed over her, his height and menace dwarfing her. His remarks felt like slaps in the face; the closeness of his body was making her knees weak and the butterflies in her stomach go nuts.

  This is so unfair. She could smell his aftershave and it made her heady.

  Making a disgusted grunt, Dallas walked away without another word. She hated him already. She had worked for difficult men before, been in classes with harsh professors, but Dallas was by far the worst she had ever encountered. The fact that she felt an undeniable attraction to him that made it impossible to think clearly made it worse. People’s faces should match their personality. If that was the case, Dallas would surely look like a troll.

  How was she supposed to work with someone so cruel and so, so gorgeous?

  She looked at her watch. It was still early morning and it was already one of the most awful days of her life.

  As he left her, Mariel tried to nurse her hurt feelings, but it was hard when she saw how well the suit he wore clung to his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His pants… well, they were tailored for a slim and very hip look and hugged his ass in the best way. Her body burned a little, but she wasn’t sure which was stronger; her feelings of disgust or admiration.

  He looked over his shoulder, his face twisted in irritation. “Are you coming, E.B.?”

  “E.B., sir?”

  “Eager Beaver. I’m going to show you to your office. I assume you are still interning here.”

  “My name is Mariel, sir.”

  “Your name is whatever I want it to be.” He strolled away and she was forced to follow. She had been wrong. She watched that his tight pan
ts mold to his ass as he walked away and blamed the heat winding through her body on her anger.

  * * * *

  “Here it is.”

  Dallas opened a door that led to a dimly lit closet. There was a small school desk shoved inside. The old-school kind where the seat was attached to a large wooden desk. There was still a pole above it for coats to be hung on.

  Mariel stared, blinking slowly. “This is my desk?”

  “Yep. Cozy, isn’t it?” His tone was saccharine sweet and she knew he was baiting her.

  Cozy? It was cramped and awful, secluded from the rest of the office. There wasn’t a proper light in there, or a computer, or well, anything for her to do.

  “What about the other interns? Shouldn’t I be working with them?”

  Dallas moved toward her. She took an involuntary step back, her spine hitting the door frame. She was pinned between his body and the door. He wasn’t touching her, not quite, but it was closer than this situation demanded.

  He was trying to intimidate her and, damn it, she hated it-- because it was working. This close she could smell the clean scent of his aftershave, subtle and expensive. Her head swam with his nearness and she gulped, trying to find strength in her dislike of him.

  “The other interns,” he snarled, “are doing what I tell them. If you want to intern here, you’ll also do what I tell you to. I’m telling you that this is your office. Your job today is to keep the coffee hot and fresh. At eleven, you’ll collect everyone’s lunch orders. You’ll fetch their lunch. After that, we’ll see.”

  Spinning on the heels of his expensive leather shoes, the bastard left her trembling in the doorway of her new closet-office.

  * * * *

  She put her bag in her “office” and discovered that the desk was just large enough that she couldn’t shut the door. Mariel looked at her watch and realized that, if she was going to get people’s lunches, she needed to find a notepad and pen and start making the rounds.

  Coffee girl. Lunch girl. She had a Masters in Political Science from a premier university, had graduated at the top of her class, and Dallas had turned her into a glorified errand runner. Scratch that… there was nothing glorified about the position.