The Kingmaker (Powerplay #1)

by Selena Laurence

  “No.” Derek’s tone was final. “I just want to act like none of it ever happened. Can we do that? At least for right now?”

  Kamal sighed, shook it off, and soon the two men were sparring like they had every other week for years.

  Kamal had only one more question: “Do you still love her?”

  Derek gritted his teeth and answered, “Unfortunately, I’ll always love her.”

  After Derek left her standing alone on a sidewalk, London did what she knew, she hid. She hid in her own house, too exhausted and heartbroken to brave the big world outside her front door. But after weeks and weeks of hiding, she was sick of it. Joanna had been to her house every day bringing food and little trinkets, hiring masseuses and nail techs to visit. Her mother, readmitted to her life, hadn’t been able to stay away for more than twelve or fourteen hours at a time. London’s kitchen was stocked in true Persian fashion, feta cheeses, olives of all varieties, the many spices of her childhood.

  So, while she was enjoying the renewed connection to her past, the fussing of the two women was enough to make her want to hide in bed all day. That’s what she was telling herself anyway. It wasn’t because Derek was gone for good. Of course it wasn’t.

  “Oh my God,” Joanna moaned around a mouthful of lamb stew. “This is heaven. What does your mother put in this stuff?”

  London sat at the bartop in her kitchen and shook her head at her friend’s newfound love of Middle Eastern cuisine. “I should have cooked more Persian all these years,” she said. “It seems to agree with you.”

  “You can do whatever you want. But leave me your mother, please.”

  “She’s something, isn’t she?” London said, unable to keep from smiling a little at the thought of the woman she’d hated—no, not actually hated, just blamed—for so long.

  “I know she should have told you the truth about your dad, but she’s amazing, London. Beautiful, brilliant, strong, and she cooks like an angel. She must have to beat the men off with sticks.”

  London paused, eyes squinting as she thought over what Joanna had said. “You know…I’ve never seen her date anyone. Maybe she has in the last ten years, but while I was growing up she never did, and she hasn’t mentioned anyone in the last few weeks. I guess I should ask her about that.” She shrugged. This was her mother after all. She really didn’t tend to think of the woman in those terms.

  “Speaking of dating…” Joanna gave London a side-glance as she pulled out a container of yogurt and figs from the refrigerator.

  “Don’t,” London warned, her muscles tensing at the very thought. It had taken her six full hours to stop crying, two full days to be able to eat again, one full week before she could manage a shower, and now an entire month had gone by, and she still couldn’t bear to leave the house.

  She was a prisoner in her own gilded cage, a cage that she wasn’t going to be able to afford much longer if she didn’t do something to earn a living.

  Joanna’s voice grew soft, her eyes pinned to London’s, empathy oozing from them.

  “I know you hurt each other, but you love him, don’t you?”

  London sighed. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Yes it does.” Joanne ate a spoonful of the yogurt then opened another container of flakey pastry layered with honey and walnuts.

  “He doesn’t love me back. How could he after what I did? Knowing who I am?”

  “I think you’re selling him short. A man like Derek Ambrose isn’t going to be scared away by some bad in-laws. That man is notorious for his single-minded pursuit of what he wants, and for his humane agenda. Did you know that he got into politics because he wanted to press for things like environmental reforms? He’s donated millions of dollars to programs for women’s education and wildlife protection. Last year he held a fundraiser for a tiny organization in Ghana that builds schools for local children and doesn’t require them to wear uniforms. That’s the number one reason kids don’t go to school in countries in Africa. They can’t afford the uniforms.”

  “You’re like a walking encyclopedia of Derek Ambrose facts, aren’t you?” London snapped, feeling envious that Joanna knew things about him that she didn’t.

  “You could be too, if you’d go after him,” Joanna answered coolly.

  “Sorry,” London muttered.

  Joanna finally released her clutch on the food and came around the countertop to face her.

  “I don’t know Derek like you do.” She picked up one of London’s hands and held it in both of hers. “But I do know a man who’s in love, and every single thing I’ve seen tells me he’s in love with you. That doesn’t go away because you find out the person kept a secret from you. Derek hasn’t fallen out of love with you because you kept something from him out of fear.”

  London felt the anguish bubbling up in her center. She worked so hard to keep it buried, but Joanna would not let it be. Didn’t she realize how much it hurt?

  “He’s sad,” Joanna continued. “And hurt, but he can get over that. You can get over that. But only if you talk to each other.”

  London shook her head, biting her lip so she wouldn’t dissolve in front of her friend.

  Joanna patted her hand before releasing it. “Think about it? For me?”

  Taking a deep breath, she nodded. “Okay. I’ll think about it.”

  “Good. Now, is your mother coming back anytime soon? Because I just ate the last of that baghlava and we’re going to need more.”

  Derek looked up from his laptop as his brother walked into the office. “I can’t take the time to go out to dinner, but if you want to order a pizza I’ll take a break to have it with you.”

  Marcus threw himself into one of the armchairs across from Derek’s desk.

  “What’s keeping you here so late?”

  “First district Tennessee congressional campaign.”

  “Ah Standish.” Marcus nodded thoughtfully. “That’s a good new client to have. How’d you get her anyway?”

  “You’d never believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  “First of all, she’s half Pakistani.” Derek leaned back in his chair and swiveled from side to side as he talked. “Second of all she’s transgendered. The first transgendered State Senator in Tennessee to be exact. She contacted me and said that her entire life was predicated on people putting away their prejudices, so she wanted to lead by example—put away the prejudice that’s been shown toward me, and hire me to manage her groundbreaking campaign.”

  Marcus nodded in agreement. “That’s fantastic thinking.”

  “Six months ago she wouldn’t have been able to afford my fees, but now, I need the client, she gets my know-how, and we give the State of Tennessee a candidate who is brilliant, and dedicated, and savvy as hell.”

  “Is she going to be able to pull it off?”

  “Early polling numbers are decent, but not great yet. We’re working on developing her signature issue. I think that will help move her numbers up and give us a foundation for solid fundraising.” Derek raked a hand through his hair. He was exhausted and frustrated, the lack of sleep and a diet of carryout food taking a toll on his demeanor.

  “I’m happy for you but you look like hell,” Marcus observed.

  Derek leaned back in his chair. “I’m tired,” he answered.

  “Why don’t you take a night off?”

  “Can’t,” he said.

  “Or won’t?”

  Derek eyed his brother. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Marcus leaned forward, putting his elbows on his knees. “You’ve been running yourself more ragged than usual.” Marcus raised an eyebrow at him. “I think you’re avoiding something.”

  Derek shifted, uncomfortable and irritable. “Thanks for the amateur psychology lesson. I’ll keep it in mind.” He rolled his eyes.

  “Seriously.” Marcus stared at him until Derek gazed back. “There’s not enough work or time at Spar or plotting or polling to forget about her. You’re in
love with her. I think you’re going to have to do something about it.”

  Derek snorted. “Yeah? You’ve got a girlfriend now so you’re going to lecture me about my love life? You’ve just started seeing Renee. I hardly think you’re an expert.”

  A slow smile spilled across Marcus’s face. “I’ve got the world’s best girlfriend and I’m in love with her, so yeah, I think I’ve got a little more experience than you do. I’ve sure as hell had more success at it.”

  Derek growled and shoved a stack of papers across the desk.

  “What would you suggest then, Mr. Expert?”

  “I’d suggest you quit trying to ignore your obvious misery and talk to her.”

  “You do remember the whole story, right? She didn’t tell me who her father was, she lied to me, after I’d given up everything to stand by her. Every single thing in my life.”

  “And I agree she fucked up, but like I’ve never fucked up?”

  “Hardly comparable.”

  “Why? You love me and that means when I screw up you tell me so, then you forgive me. I do the same for you. Seems to me that if you really love someone you do that—forgive them.” He shrugged as if it were a foregone conclusion.

  Derek stood from his chair. “We going to order a pizza or not?” he asked.

  Marcus shrugged. “Fine. But I’m going to keep asking about her until you get off your ass and do something about it.”

  Derek shook his head. “Is that a promise?”

  “Definitely.”

  Derek smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. “Okay. You do that and maybe one of these times I’ll listen.”

  “You will,” Marcus answered. “And when you do you’ll thank me.”

  It was after eight p.m. when London’s doorbell rang. She assumed it was her mother or Joanna and didn’t worry too much before she looked through the peephole. However, it wasn’t either of them. Standing on her front steps was Kamal Masri, the Egyptian Ambassador himself. She shivered, wondering what he could possibly want since she was no longer involved with Derek.

  She opened the door with a flourish. He’d scared her in the past, but with everything in the open, and her affair with Derek at an end she didn’t think there was anything he could do to her. She was tired of being scared, and tired of being tired.

  “Yes?” she asked as she stood in the doorway, arms crossed.

  “May I come in?”

  She considered it. She would have loved to tell him to go to hell, but he might have something to say about Derek, so she couldn’t stand the possibility of missing whatever tidbit of information she could glean about the man she still hadn’t stopped dreaming about.

  She gestured for Kamal to come inside, then led him to her living room. “I would ask you to sit, but somehow I don’t think you’ll be here that long,” she told him.

  His lips pulled back in a grimace. “I deserve that,” he said. “I was cruel to you, and I apologize wholeheartedly.”

  She crossed her arms and gave a short, sharp nod, indicating he should continue.

  He sighed. “I’ve spent the better part of fifteen years being Derek’s right-hand man. I backed him up on the soccer field, in college classrooms, through bar fights, and political campaigns, and yes, a few sketchy women as well.”

  London glared, and Kamal had the decency to look sheepish.

  “It’s second nature to me to defend him, to protect him. I’ve spent many years in this country, away from my people and my culture. My family in Egypt is large, and I’m the second son. There are heavy expectations of me, but those don’t include staying close to home because my older brother fulfills that role. My job is to take the family’s reputation and interests out into the world, spread the Masri name throughout the world however I can. My father is an empire builder and my place in the empire isn’t at home, it’s here, in the U.S. It’s a good role, but sometimes a lonely one.”

  He paced around her living room slowly, and even though he wasn’t obvious, she could tell he was taking it all in—the knick-knacks, the photos, even the Persian vase that sat in the place of honor on her fireplace mantel.

  “Derek and our small group of friends, who you met, have become my family, and in my culture you kill for your family, you die for your family, your family is everything. I realize that when he got involved with you I took that too far.

  “I owe you both an apology and I’ve given one to him. I behaved poorly. I didn’t understand—” He paused as if searching for the appropriate word. “I didn’t understand how strong his feelings for you were.”

  She blinked at him, not sure what his point was.

  “Do you feel the same way about him?” he asked.

  She dropped her chin to her chest before looking up at his dark eyes. He was an exceedingly handsome man, but she couldn’t feel anything other than resentment toward him.

  “Why do you even care?” she asked. “I thought you’d be thrilled that he’s away from me.”

  Kamal smiled weakly. “That’s the thing—he isn’t away from you, far from it. You’re haunting him, and I think if he can’t resolve this with you he won’t be happy again for a very long time.”

  London’s heart ached with regret. She’d done that to him. Caused Derek pain, embarrassment and doubt, when all he’d ever done to her was be kind, accepting, and considerate.

  “I certainly don’t hate him,” she said. “I couldn’t hate him even if I wanted to.”

  He looked at her, but she didn’t flinch or turn away.

  “I hope you’ll consider speaking with him,” Kamal said. “He needs you. One of you has to take the first step and I’m not sure he’s able.”

  She shook her head, confused and sad.

  “Think about it. Think about him. Please.” With that he turned and left her house.

  The weeks went by and still London didn’t hear from Derek. Her savings weren’t going to last forever so she needed to decide what to do next. Returning to prostitution was out of the question for many reasons, the biggest of which was that she couldn’t bear the idea of having another man touch her after Derek had. He was branded onto her very soul. She couldn’t imagine letting anyone else near her ever again.

  Joanna and her mother wanted her to go to college. Farrah said she would pay London’s tuition just as she would have when London was eighteen. London was considering it, but somehow it didn’t feel right. She had been through so much in her life, learned in an entirely different way than formal education, college seemed like a step back, an attempt at being someone she could never be again. So she delayed any decisions, and she sat, and she thought, and she ached.

  Even though she had her mother back, and Jo’s undying devotion, she was lonely, feeling Derek’s absence more acutely each day that passed. She realized that she was paralyzed, unable to move on because her heart and her mind were caught in that one moment in time when he drove away from her. The lack of resolution was poisonous, and until she fixed it, she wasn’t sure she could have a new life, or any life at all.

  Then Joanna showed up at her house with a tiny white ball of fur—a Maltese puppy.

  “You got a dog?” London asked, kissing the tiny thing on the nose as it squirmed in Joanna’s arms.

  “No, you did.” Joanna plopped the little bundle into London’s hands.

  “What?”

  “It’s for you.” Joanna grinned. “You’re rebooting your life, you need a friend to keep you company.”

  London held it up in front of her face and looked into its tiny black eyes. “Really? You think I can take care of a puppy?”

  “Of course you can.” Joanna sailed past London into the kitchen. She set down her Chanel shopping bag and began removing everything a new puppy could use—food and water bowls, a collar, leash, small cans of food, and a book on housebreaking.

  “You really thought about this,” London said, tucking the puppy under her arm as she inspected the loot.

  “I really thought about all
of your possible objections.” She grabbed a plastic packet from her purse and unwrapped it. When she was done it popped open into a small, soft-sided dog kennel.

  “Oh my God. What is that?” London peered at the little box with the mesh sides.

  “It’s his kennel of course. When you go somewhere and don’t want him to be loose in the house you put him in this.”

  London held the dog up to her ear. “He says he doesn’t like it,” she told her friend. “He says that when I go places he should go with me.”

  Joanna tried to hide a smile as she filled the food and water dishes. “I’m glad you two understand each other.”

  London snuggled the puppy to her face. “I guess you’re staying,” she said. “And I think I’ll name you Kingmaker.”

  “What kind of a name is that?” Joanna asked, scowling.

  “It’s between he and I, we already have secrets don’t we, King?”

  Joanna rolled her eyes. “I’ve created a monster.”

  London looked at her across the kitchen counter, eyes shining. “Thank you, Jo. You’re amazing. You’re an amazing friend, and I’m so lucky to have you.”

  Joanna sniffed and turned to the sink. “Stop. Just be good to the dog. And do something really great with your new life, okay?”

  “Okay,” London whispered.

  Kingmaker served his purpose, he forced London to give life another chance. A tiny life was dependent on her now. She had to go outside to walk him, had to go to the store to get him food. She had to go outside her own thoughts to pay attention to him, and go outside the broken limits of her heart to give him love. And as each day passed and she devoted herself to caring for the tiny dog with giant needs, she kept hearing Kamal’s voice inside her head—one of you has to take the first step, and I’m not sure he’s able.

  If Derek felt even half of the destruction that she did, but he didn’t have his own Kingmaker, he might not be able to move forward, he might not be able to move at all. If Derek was caught in that state of paralysis that she was only barely moving on from, then he was suffering, and while she could bear her own pain, the idea of his was too much.