At that point London broke into sobs. She’d known. She’d known it was coming, but it was still the most painful thing she’d ever experienced in her young life. Since she was a tiny child and had first asked why she didn’t have a father like the other children, her mother had told her that her father died when she was a toddler. Farrah had given London an imaginary family, a father who watched her birth, loved her deeply and was killed tragically in an auto accident before London was old enough to remember him.
For London to hear that she had in fact been the product of an arrangement that didn’t involve love in any form, a trick her mother had perpetrated on a man who was known throughout the world for his horrendous humanitarian violations, a child who was a mistake in every sense of the word—it destroyed her.
“I ended things with him,” Farrah continued, the story spilling from her as if it had been ready to overflow for seventeen years. “And I went into hiding. I had you and I found a job to support us. My family helped me out as much as they could although they didn’t have a great deal of money and an unwed pregnant daughter was a terrible embarrassment to them.
“You were about to turn two when the life I’d created for us fell apart. I was working in the little sundries store that hired me right after you were born. The owners were a very sweet older couple and I told them I was a widow, so they had taken me under their wings, even allowing me to bring you to work with me.
“There was a terrible rainstorm outside that day, and a group of men came into the store to get shelter. The store owner could see that they were very important men, so he told me to ask them if I could get them something to drink while they waited. I had already reached them, with you on my hip, when I saw him. Your father has done many horrible things to many people in his life, but he is not stupid. He took one look at my face, then at you, and he knew immediately.
“I was terrified, but all I could do was act as if everything was normal. I got the men coffees and tea, and kept you with me. I wanted to run, but the storm outside was fierce, and I walked to and from work. There was no way I could take you outside in the winds and the rain. But Mohammad didn’t spare me another look, and a part of me began to think maybe he didn’t know—or better yet, didn’t care.
“When the rain slowed, the men prepared to leave and I tried to be inconspicuous, praying that they would go and I could disappear yet again so that he couldn’t find me a second time. But as the others walked out the door, he came back to where I stood behind the counter. Quietly he told me that he was going to send someone for you—you were his property—and since I’d hidden you from him I was not invited to join you. Legally, in Iran, I had no recourse. It was why I’d run in the first place. I couldn’t bear to give you to a man like him.”
London stared at her mother, her heart beating like a wild animal struggling to break free.
“I took you that night and ran. I used my contacts with the rebel group to get out of the country and get help abroad. We went first to London where I changed your name, then we gained asylum here in the U.S.”
London’s mind snapped back to the present, and the woman on the other end of the call waiting for an answer to one of the hardest questions London had ever been asked.
“I think so,” she finally said, deciding that after so many lies over so many years it was time for raw honesty. “This is hard for me.” She pressed her lips together, searching her heart for the right words. “I left because you had lied to me, you had hidden who I was—from me. That destroyed me. That the one person who I trusted most in the entire world had kept part of me hidden away. And when I found out the truth, I was ashamed of who I was, and whether it was fair or not, I blamed you. You broke my heart.”
Farrah’s voice was small and sad. “I know.”
“But I’m beginning to see something. I chose a new me, but I haven’t been proud of her either. And I’ve made the same mistake you have. I’ve kept part of me hidden from the world the way you kept part of me hidden. I traded one version of me that was dark and secret for another.”
“Oh my love,” Farrah crooned, “it isn’t your fault. It’s mine. It’s all my fault. Forgive yourself and place the burden on me. If you need to be angry with me for another ten years then do that, only promise me that you will stop being angry at yourself. That you will stop punishing yourself for things that you had no control over. It was me who made the choice to sleep with him. Me who made the choice to lie to you about him, me who created an alternate reality that gave you false hopes. You didn’t do anything wrong. Your father did. I did. You didn’t.
“But you are young and beautiful, and you don’t need to hide in the dark with secrets anymore. You have your whole life ahead of you. You can do anything you want, and I would love nothing more than the chance to help you, to watch you become brilliant.”
“Oh Mom,” London cried. “I’ve been so unfair to you. All these years I worked so hard to hate you because I was selfish and hurt and stubborn. You made mistakes, but you did it all for love—the love of your nation and the love of me.”
No more words were said for a long time as London and her mother cried the tears of a decade. But when they were done, London agreed to visit her mother, and she knew deep in her heart that it was the first step on a long road back to who she might have been.
Derek hadn’t seen London in two days and he was losing his mind. His head hurt, his chest ached, and his dick was at half-mast all damn day. He’d never known another woman who could turn him on simply by answering his texts. But he’d been putting out so many fires trying to make up for the abrupt exit of his secretary that he barely had time to sleep, much less visit his erstwhile girlfriend. He’d spent two nights at the office sleeping on the sofa, and the only reason he was going to leave tonight was because he’d run through the supply of clean clothes he kept there for emergencies.
Teague had finished the negotiations with Melville’s attorney and the joint press release had been issued. Melville had agreed to wait a week before announcing his new campaign director, but it didn’t matter much to Derek, he knew Melville would never get the nomination without him. It was vanity on Melville’s part to stay in the race, and Derek doubted he’d last more than another couple of months.
But none of that changed Derek’s desire to find out who was behind the destruction of his reputation and nearly of Melville’s life, and now Jeff was arriving with the information he’d gleaned from his contacts who had paid a visit to Ryan Williams.
“Mr. Ambrose?” The voice of his temp secretary was nasal at best, and grating at worst, which seemed to be the case right now.
“Yes?”
“A Mr. Thi-be-dough is here to see you.”
My God he missed Renee. If he could ever get her or Marcus to speak to him again he was going to offer to double her salary. Hell, he’d let her screw his brother in the reception area too as long as she promised to wait until after five p.m. to do it.
“Please send him back,” Derek instructed. He walked to the bar and took out two bottles of water. If it were Teague he’d have grabbed the scotch, but Jeff was military. No drinking on duty.
“Who the hell is that at your front desk?” Jeff asked as he walked into the room.
Derek rolled his eyes. “The temp agency sent her.”
“Where’s Renee?”
“Don’t ask.”
Jeff shrugged. “Well, I liked her better in any case.”
“As did I,” Derek muttered.
They sat down, Derek behind his desk, Jeff in an armchair facing him.
“I’ve got some information for you, but I doubt you’re going to like it.”
Derek ran a hand through his hair. “I haven’t liked anything I’ve heard in weeks. No reason today should be any different.”
Jeff nodded in understanding, his hazel eyes sharp, but kind. “I’ll start with the good news. The videos of Nick Patterson’s wife and Williams have been destroyed.”
Derek breathed
a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Teague had the contract voided yesterday, and Williams has been removed from every account and piece of paper Nick’s firm owns. He is free and clear, and so is his wife. She made a huge error, but they didn’t deserve any of that.”
“I agree. And now for the other news. Williams swore, under some substantial duress I might add, that he had nothing to do with leaking the information about London and Melville. He said that he, in fact, didn’t even know about the affair before the news exposed it. He did, however, have a hypothesis about who might have.”
Derek snorted. “Not sure I trust him enough to give it any credence.”
“I think you may want to reassess that. See, Williams had Melville investigated at Senator Donovan’s request just as we initially thought. Donovan was thinking about making a run for president. The investigators didn’t find out about London and Melville, but what they did find out was that someone else was having Melville watched.”
Derek’s pulse raced. “Who?”
Jeff paused, one eyebrow raised. “Winston Vandermeer.”
“Mmm,” London moaned. “That feels amazing.”
Derek dug his fingertips into her scalp again, massaging the shampoo into her long tresses. She squeezed his thighs in ecstasy and he chuckled.
“If I’d known you’d make noises like that just from getting your hair washed I’d have done it sooner,” he joked.
She pressed back against his hard cock that was wedged in between their bodies as she sat in front of him in his large bathtub.
“You’re terribly hard for a man who just helped bust open an attempted assassination investigation,” she pointed out.
Derek caressed one of her nipples before he poured a cup of warm water over her hair, rinsing away the shampoo. “All in a day’s work, beautiful.”
She snorted. “Really, though, do you think the police would have figured out it was Winston who tried to have Melville killed if you hadn’t discovered he was having him followed?”
“I’d like to hope that eventually they would have, but there’s no telling.”
“So you told the police about it, then what?”
He ran his fingers through her damp hair absentmindedly. “They didn’t have too much trouble tracking down the P.I. that Vandermeer had hired, and he crumbled like a stale cookie. He also admitted that Vandermeer had him send the information about Melville’s affair with you to the media. Apparently the old man was so pissed that Melville had cheated on his daughter he decided to ruin the guy.”
“He certainly had a lot of faith in the assassin he hired. He had his darling daughter standing right next to the intended target.”
Derek huffed out a bitter laugh. “I’m not sure if that’s trust, stupidity, or a man who’s not playing with a full deck at this point.”
“It’s really all tragic. I feel sorry for him.”
Derek nibbled on her shoulder and she giggled. His hands roamed, squeezing her breasts, sliding over her slick skin, caressing her core.
“He was a very angry man,” he whispered in her ear. “His daughter was complaining that her husband wasn’t making her the center of his universe. He didn’t like to see his darling neglected.”
“Uh huh…but you would never neglect a woman?”
He licked her earlobe. “I intend to make you the center of everything I do from now on.”
Her heart throbbed with the delicious thought of it. Maybe, her mind whispered, maybe.
Maybe he wouldn’t find out about her father. Maybe he wouldn’t care. Maybe she could be something other than a prostitute. Maybe there was a happily ever after for someone like her. Maybe.
“Stand up, we need the shower to get all that soap out of your hair,” he said.
They moved to the big separate shower that took up one corner of the room. He adjusted the water until it was steaming, a soft spray falling from above them and mist coming from three sides. London felt warm, pliant, and full, her skin flushed and tingly. Derek took her in his arms and kissed her, gently at first, his lips and tongue learning their way around her mouth as if he had all day to explore.
She languidly wound her arms around his neck and rested her slick breasts against his chest, relishing the feeling of his stiff hairs against her nipples.
As Derek’s hands slipped under her ass and he lifted her higher and closer to his erection, she speared her fingers into his hair, pulling it taut and groaning at the ache building in her center.
“Turn around,” he panted.
He spun her and she planted her hands against the wall to catch her balance. He bent his knees and she felt his thick shaft push through her folds to slide along her clit.
“Oh, oh yes,” she gasped, resting her forehead against the tiles.
He planted one palm on the wall next to her arm for balance and wrapped the other around her breast as he began to slide forward and backward across her tender clit.
The slippery friction was delicious, and she rocked against him shamelessly, moaning with the sensations.
His pace increased and he grunted as he thrust back and forth. When she was so wound up that she thought she might explode from the anticipation, he moved his hand from her breast to her clit and pressed, circling it three times.
She tipped her face to the ceiling, her head resting on his shoulder behind her, and cried out her release, as his cock and finger continued to stroke her firmly. He helped her come down slowly, his hands relenting, his hips stilling. She was left panting and ready to melt into a heap on the floor.
He spun her in his arms and kissed her on both cheeks.
“See?” he said, a wicked glimmer in his eyes. “You’re the center of everything.”
She reached for the body wash on the shelf next to her and popped the top, pouring a generous dab on her hands and rubbing them together. The scent of citrus mixed with the steam and made her think of lemon pie and her mother’s special orange cookies. As she looked at Derek’s big broad chest and six-pack abs she thought that he might be every bit as delicious.
“You know I was always taught that turnabout is fair play.” She rubbed her hands up and down his chest, then found his cock, sandwiching it between her palms as the silky body wash coated him.
“Somehow that doesn’t feel as good when I do it,” he murmured, watching her with hot eyes.
She let the spray rinse the soap off, then began kissing her way down his chest, bending her knees as she got closer to his waist.
He slipped his hand under her elbow and lifted her up, flipping off the water at the same time.
“Derek—” she protested.
“Nope,” he grunted. “I want to be inside of you, and I’m not going to last much longer. We need a condom and we need it now.”
He scooped her up and carried her out of the shower as she laughed. They were both so wet she was afraid he’d slip and hurt them, but he made it to the bedroom and stood her next to the bed. Then he reached into the nightstand drawer and removed a condom, donning it in record time.
“Now.” He kissed her lips like a man denied his favorite dessert for years.
“Inside,” she moaned.
He released her and turned her around, pushing her gently. She crawled on all fours onto the comforter, knees bent, with her elbows tucked under her.
He came down over her, wrapping one arm around her waist, then he took one of her legs and straightened it, his free hand palmed her ass as he ran his nose along her spine, planting kisses along the way.
She arched her back, her nose filling with the scent of their arousal. The partial splits she was in stretched her muscles in just the right way, a gentle burning spilling through her body. She felt the pressure of his cock at her core, and he pressed in so slowly she thought she’d go insane.
“You’re so tight like this,” he growled, his breath coming fast and hard. “Please tell me you’re close.” He pumped in and out a few times, and she gasped loudly.
“More, please. Harder,�
�� she demanded.
He complied, shifting to get better leverage, and slamming into her over and over. The burn started in one point and spread out in rays until it peaked and the convulsions ripped through her. She screamed his name and his entire body stiffened as he jerked against her one last time before pouring everything he had into her. When they were done he pulled out, disposed of the condom and lay down sprawled halfway across her, his heavy leg on top of hers, his big arms wrapped around her small waist.
And before they both fell into a deep sleep he whispered in her ear, “I’m in love with you, London Sharpe. Utterly in love.”
Chapter 15
“He said what?!” Joanna’s yelp could be heard across the room at the small tea shop they sat at in Georgetown.
“Shh,” London admonished. “You don’t need to announce it to the people across the street.”
Joanna apologized, but her grin was a mile wide. “Sorry. I’m so happy for you I can’t stand it.”
London took a bite of her chocolate croissant, and breathed deeply. The smell of fresh-baked bread permeated the shop, and even with the croissant in front of her she was imagining big slices of fluffy, white, French bread. Mouthwatering.
“Don’t go getting a bunch of ideas. There are so many things for us to overcome still.”
Joanna rolled her eyes. “Must you always be glass half empty? He knows about your past, he accepts you for who you are. He’s given up everything for you, London. How can you not see that?”
London’s stomach soured and she put the croissant back on the plate.
“I’m painfully aware of that. He’s lost his presidential campaign, half his business, his best friend isn’t speaking to him, and he got into a horrible fight with his younger brother the other day too. How long can it be until he starts to resent me for making him lose everything he cares most about?”
Joanna reached over and snatched London’s croissant, taking a large bite before she replaced it.
The Kingmaker (Powerplay #1) Page 20