by Angel Payne
Crystal had no trouble chugging right on. “Dasha, this could be the start of a snowball effect. Your dad is starting to pick a team for the campaign—”
“I wonder who thought of that,” Dasha muttered.
“—and of course, we’re planning follow-up trips to Iowa, New Hampshire, and Florida after this. We may stage Florida first, though. Even the blue hairs there know your dad right now, thanks to his daughter’s little incident at the Viceroy last week.”
With a short huff, David came forward fully now. “Ms. Corso, the details of what happened in Miami are not for public consumption.” He added, for the ears of the three of them alone, “For many different reasons.”
“Of course not,” the woman returned. “Which is why everyone’s wild to see Dasha herself.”
Dasha jerked her head up again. “See me where?”
“At your father’s side, silly! Where else?” Corso’s precision-plucked brows jumped higher. “They’re going to do an extended personal piece. They’re covering your father’s childhood and your mother’s passing, of course…ending with a thirty-minute, commercial-free interview featuring the two of you!”
Broadside, part two. Dasha worked her lips together, unsure how to react. Or even how to feel. “It’s wonderful, isn’t it?” Corso continued. “The special will air next Monday, and the timing couldn’t be more perfect. You’ve canceled all those concert stops, so you have the time to spare. We understand you’re set up in a lovely private mansion in Atlanta, so we can shoot right there.”
“Stop.” David leaned in again. “Ms. Corso, this is a lot of presumption.”
Finally, Snow White looked like one of her apples was shoved up the correct end of her body. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me,” David responded. “Just because Miss Moore is on a temporary break from her tour doesn’t attach your puppet strings to her schedule.”
The woman absorbed that at first with a wild flare of nostrils. Within seconds, her expression reverted to graceful calm. “I think Miss Moore should have something to say about that.”
“She does,” Dasha injected. “And she says Mr. Pennington is right.” The tension from the other end had become nearly a physical force, but she went on, “I support Dad always, Ms. Corso, no matter how much he’s been coached to think something else. I’m here for him.”
She lifted her chin then, compelled to the action not by strings or motivation from the outside but by a strength that came from a deep, bottomless place on the inside. She looked to Crystal with a clarity she’d never known before—because she knew it was right. The men flanking her had given her the courage to embrace that and claim it as her own truth.
“I’d be happy to be available for the interview,” she stated, “with one condition.”
Corso’s nostrils flared with dainty impatience. “Condition?”
“Dad must do the asking. Himself.”
“Dasha.” The flare never happened. The I’m-talking-to-a-toddler tone did. “I’m sure you understand that he would if he could, but—”
“He calls, Crystal. He asks. Or the Moore Family Special is a no-go.”
Chapter Seventeen
Two very fast days had passed since that ultimatum. Now David took a chance to slow down, stand back, and contemplate the remarkable woman who’d issued it.
He’d lived nearly every day of the last five years with Dasha Melodia Moore. Five years full of countless moments to be crazy proud of her. All her award-acceptance speeches. The time she’d first gone platinum. The morning she’d sold out the Garden. The half marathon she’d run for cancer research. Those were just the highlights. The list was endless.
The number one slot just got a new contender.
It was a perfect afternoon. A little breeze played at the trees, making the sunlight dance across the golden halo of Dasha’s hair as she and the senator chatted with an attentive Anderson Cooper. The journalist sat opposite them on one of the mansion’s shady patios, in a setting of ideal Southern charm. Lemonade was poured in cut crystal glasses on the table. The senator looked relaxed in a crisp shirt and casual Geoffrey Beenes. And Dasha wore another of those sundresses that screamed for David to rip it right off her pretty shoulders again. But definitely not right now…
Right now, he watched her hold those shoulders with a newborn strength, a fresh dignity. Right now, she wasn’t the insecure daughter, afraid of being a liability to her father. Right now, her gaze sparkled with flecks of pride, confidence, and fulfillment. All of it illuminated every inch of her face, drawing one’s eye completely off the man all this shit was supposed to be about.
The change had started forty-eight hours ago. The senator had abided by his daughter’s request, calling her fifteen minutes after the ultimatum. He’d been a damn fine gentleman about it too, treating her with respect, warmth, and a not so subtle dose of fatherly pride. He’d sealed the deal by ignoring Corso and her gaggle of advisors, lingering on the line to talk in private with his daughter for a few minutes. When the conversation ended, the look Dasha beamed was a dazzling reward for every third-degree he’d given her about it over the years—and every discipline spank he’d delivered most recently.
His satisfaction grew when the senator arrived today. Granted, Crystal Corso was right at his side—correction, clinging to his side—but the senator scraped her free for an hour to tour the mansion alone with Dasha. When they’d strolled onto the patio for the interview, David had noticed the continuing transformation in D. Kress’s small nod said he did too. It really was a moment of kumbaya victory. Which meant he almost felt guilty about the dilemma that’d snuck into his head.
What excuse was he going to use now to redden her sweet little ass?
The buzzkill to his fantasy involved just one look to the opposite side of the set, where Corso kept her own vigil. The woman was a vision of flawless Washington chic, especially with a doting preppy-boy assistant at her side, which only added to her creepy vibe. He refocused on Dasha to flush the feeling. She’d just laughed at a crack from Cooper, transforming her face again, captivating him anew, consuming him with fresh pride. She had it: the built-in strength and honesty that made her more than a passing trend of a star. He’d known it for years; it was just damn satisfying to watch her finally see it for herself. And to know he’d helped her get there…
Fuck satisfying. It was magical. Incredible. And for a moment, he let the force of it drench him, flooding him with all the feelings he’d kept so carefully chained back for this woman. He struggled to lock the chains again, but the consummation of this moment made him the Hulk that went along with the Incredible, shirking those chains, exploding from the force that had now burst beyond his control.
Making him fully admit he’d fallen in love with her.
The force of it impacted him like a physical shove. He regained his balance only by anchoring his attention back to Dasha. His amazing star. His sweet submissive. His love.
His love.
Crap.
What the fuck did he do now?
“So…what now?” The question got echoed with too level a tone to be his head talking. The way Cooper phrased the question left no doubt in anyone’s mind where he led the senator with it. This was the moment. CNN wanted its ratings magnet.
“What now?” The senator flashed a one-sided dimple. Dasha followed with nearly the same look, her smile soft and curious. “Could you get a little more specific, Anderson?”
The silver-haired star gave a fast wink. “I suppose you can afford to be coy, right? When you’re about to announce you’re going to run for the presidency?”
Another moment stretched. Even the bugs and birds seemed to stop. David realized he held his breath, along with everyone else in the garden. It was disconcerting. He’d always followed politics with a distanced curiosity, never understanding their drama, but now he changed his mind.
Moore took his time smiling at his interviewer. “Anderson, I’ll be honest. I woke up this morning prepare
d to give you a ‘yes’ on that.” He turned that warm look onto Dasha. “But something extraordinary happened on the way to that particular podium.”
“Oh?” Cooper’s return lifted with surprise.
“I got to spend an hour alone with my extraordinary daughter.”
Dasha shot her father a stunned stare. The senator chuckled. To Cooper, he drawled, “Do you realize all the stuff this kid has done with her life?”
“Uh…yeah.” Cooper flashed his signature grin. “We’re all pretty much aware of Dasha’s successes, Senator.”
“Well, I wasn’t.” Moore’s smile faded. “Not all of it. That’s because I wasn’t there for most of it. I fooled myself into thinking she was okay about it too—that she’d chosen good people to surround her, and she understood I was serving the people of our great state.” The man’s tension spread through his posture. “I even told myself that when a madman breached her team’s security last week in Miami. Then again when another opened fire on her and a thousand people here in Atlanta.”
As her father let out a ragged sigh, Dasha reached for his hand. “Dad,” she whispered. “Daddy. It’s all right.”
David curled one hand into a fist. No, it’s not.
“No,” said the senator. “It’s not.” He looked Dasha in the eyes. Cooper’s camera team moved in for close-ups. “You only have one parent, and you needed him there. And I wasn’t. Instead, I drowned my own grief in my work, and…I’m sorry. Oh, my beautiful girl. I’m sorry.”
David didn’t unlock his fist. He was happy for it now, using the tension to fight the heat behind his eyes as Dasha and her father shared a tearful embrace. He glanced to Moridian and saw the guy waging the same battle. The camera guys had given up and backhanded their eyes; even Cooper struggled for composure.
The only person who continued to resemble one of the garden statues was Crystal Corso. David sneered. No fucking surprise there.
The surprise actually came with his next thought. His ruminations wheeled toward…Josh. And, incredibly, attempting another bridge with his brother. But if he’d been able to help Dasha get to this place with her dad, maybe there was hope for him and his hard-ass brother too. Okay, so he’d inherited plenty of that stubborn streak himself. But maybe that was their problem. Further, if the attack at the mall had shown him anything, besides his terror of losing Dasha, it was that life was too goddamn short, especially to spend seven years of it at war with your only sibling.
He drew in a long breath, again observing Dasha’s radiant happiness. The woman had wrought a miracle in his life. She’d unraveled the pain of Sophie. She made him want to believe in things again…in people. And she’d inspired him to believe in them, in the reality of maybe, just maybe doing this life thing together, and building a life outside the mayhem and the spotlights…
Goddamn, how he wanted to finish her day in a romantic corner of the mansion somewhere, with a single rose and a corny-ass declaration of his feelings. But even the fantasy of it felt selfish. In the last three weeks, he’d taken her as his submissive, altered her body in a couple of kinky ways, and shared her with another Dom in a night that redefined the word intense. And there were likely a few other “minor” things on her mind: like two weeks of postponed tour dates to make up, along with a stalker who still roamed free, concocting his next method of a murder attempt. Gee, D, I know you’ve got a full plate, but let me heap this mush in the middle of it, just to make your head explode a little more.
Not the right time. Not the right place.
But he could honor her by digging deep for his own courage and making his own life-turning phone call.
Well, shit.
He hadn’t seen this coming when he’d gotten up this morning.
Chapter Eighteen
It wasn’t the day Dasha expected when she got up this morning. But it had turned out to be one of the best of her life. She still smiled when thinking of the last hug Dad had given her, along with the promise he’d be there for the first concert after the tour started again. This time, she believed him. This time…was different.
Life was different.
She was different.
She looked at her mystified smile, reflected back from the vanity mirror in her and David’s bedroom. All her features were there, exactly where they always were, only…not. There was a new person there, alight from the inside out, not only confident in her truth but holding her head high from having stated it, no matter how hard, to someone she loved in a spirit of respect, courage, and truth. In return, so much had healed between them. And she’d helped Dad make a pretty huge decision. She really was important to him. He really did need her. Wow.
She had so much to thank David for.
Her stomach responded to that thought like it always did, jumping in a delicious mix of anxiety and anticipation. The feelings she’d had for him just weeks ago…they were crumbs compared to the feast in her heart now. As his business partner, she’d been happy. As his friend, she’d been delighted. As his lover, she’d been ecstatic.
As his submissive, she was free.
With that thought in mind, she gave her hair and makeup one last check, wrapped a robe around herself, and turned out of the bedroom. She needed to find him and make this day complete.
She was surprised—okay, stunned—by the distance David had kept since the CNN crew left, shortly after they’d all enjoyed a big Southern-style dinner that even Dad and his posse stayed for. When David disappeared after that, she’d assumed he went off to return phone calls and e-mails, but that was two hours ago. He was officially MIA. More specifically, he hadn’t come back to her, now clad in the special outfit she’d gotten online with Mary’s help, a gorgeous black leather body harness inlaid with ornate silver stitching that guided the eye perfectly to the places it didn’t cover, namely her breasts, her ass, and the freshly shaved folds at the crux of her thighs. All places that ached to have her Sir’s touch again. It had been five days. Too damn long.
A quick stop at the library still turned up nothing. Not even Kress was pulling duty in their makeshift command center. But that wasn’t a news flash. At dinner, he’d traded a dozen hot glances with one of Dad’s staffers, a cute brunette in a pencil skirt and Juicy eyeglasses. The girl had been hanging all over Zack, Crystal’s perfectly coifed assistant, who hadn’t stood a chance as soon as Kress appeared. Dasha imagined Kress had shadowed the woman back to the hotel—and set aside the weird twinge of jealousy she felt about that. She had no right to the feeling. The agent didn’t belong to her any more than she belonged to him.
Tonight was for tracking down the man to whom she did belong. Her body zinged with sexual tension. Even her nipples pulsed against the piercings he’d put there.
Where the hell had he gone?
After padding down the back stairs, she looked in the kitchen and workout room. David was a sucker for leftovers, then sweating them off on the weight machines. The kitchen staff declared they hadn’t seen him since dinner either. The weight room was dark and didn’t smell like sweat had hit it lately.
She frowned. Then retightened her robe. And finally conceded she might have to go back upstairs, fetch her cell, and turn into the needy girlfriend she’d forbidden herself to become. But damn it, she needed David’s hands on her. Inside her. Taking her. Possessing her. Tonight. Maybe a bit bossy, little sub, she could almost hear him responding in that suggestive growl. But honest. Very honest. And that’s lovely…
She passed the study, now enclosed in darkness, on her return trip to the rear stairway. But there was movement in the shadows, drawing her back to the room. She peered deeper into the blackness, made more dense by all the leather furniture and dark walls, trying to discern what she’d heard.
A floor lamp flickered to life. In its sudden glow, she found him. He was already staring at her, his presence oddly still even though he sat on the couch, nursing a glass of scotch.
“Hi,” David said. No growl. Just a soft murmur. He was still in his white dres
s shirt and dark blue Zegna suit pants, but at least he’d yanked off his tie and jacket. He looked up with a fathomless gaze and an equally unreadable smile. And radiating an energy she could only describe as weird.
“Uh…hi. What’re you doing here in the dark?”
“Thinking.”
The weirdness radar went off again. She twisted one of her robe strings around a finger. “About what?”
“It’s not important.”
“The hell it isn’t.” The retort flared as easily as the instinct that spurred it. “Maybe a rewind will help? Viceroy Miami, about four thirty in the morning? ’I’m not a hide-in-the-dark Dom, Dasha.’ Shadows aren’t usually your style, remember?”
He lifted both brows. “Maybe they are. Look what came to me as a result.”
The ongoing enigma of his voice, sounding panther and prey at once, melted her. She went to him and, without thinking, sank to the floor at his feet. “You didn’t have to wait in the dark for that.”
To emphasize that, she raised a hand to his knee. David stretched his touch to the top of her head, steady and strong but too damn gentle. She deepened her hold, shifting it to the inside of his leg. They passed a long minute like that, in silence that felt like a thickening blanket, a shroud she would’ve gladly wrapped herself in, if not for the self-built cage she still felt from David. This was different from his work tension, and even separate from the strain he gave off when he wanted to get her naked.
Weird graduated to eerie. She tried to stay calm. Tried not to conclude that now she’d reconnected to Dad, it meant David was hitting the release cable on their relationship.
“I called Josh an hour ago.”
Dasha snapped up her stare. The eerie vibe just earned a PhD in what-the-hell. It almost eclipsed her relief at knowing this had nothing to do with her. “You’re not kidding,” she said, looking deep into his eyes. The gray was nearly light blue now.