Whispers on the Potomac_Room 312
Page 1
Table of Contents
Epilogue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Whispers on The Potomac
Mia Villano
Whispers on The Potomac
Mia Villano Books, By Mia Villano
©2017 Mia Villano
All rights reserved. Except as permitted under the U.S. Copyright Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, or stored in a database or retrieval system, without the prior written permission of the author.
This book is a work of fiction.
Names of characters, places, and events are the construction of the author, except those locations that are well-known and of general knowledge, and all are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is coincidental, and great care was taken to design places, locations, or businesses that fit into the regional landscape without actual identification; as such, resemblance to actual places, locations, or businesses is coincidental. Any mention of a branded item, artistic work, or well-known business establishment, is used for authenticity in the work of fiction and was chosen by the author because of personal preference, its high quality, or the authenticity it lends to the work of fiction; the author has received no remuneration, either monetary or in-kind, for use of said product names, artistic work, or business establishments, and mention is not intended as advertising, nor does it constitute an endorsement. The author is solely responsible for content.
Cover design & Formatting by:
Drue Hoffman, Buoni Amici Press.
Editor - Cat Parisi of Cat’s Eye Proofing & Promos
Proofreading - Jenn Wood of All About The Edits
Developmental Editing - Renita McKinney of A Book A Day 365
Disclaimer:
Material in this work of fiction is of a graphic sexual nature and is not intended for audiences under 18 years of age.
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
Sebastian
I straighten my signature cufflinks, focusing on myself in the full-length mirror. Without turning around, I gaze at the beautiful woman behind me in the reflection. My date for the evening looks as though she just stepped off the runway. She’s wearing a designer dress that hugs her body in all the right places. Her long, black hair is cascading around her shoulders and her skin glistening in the light puts a smile on my face. As I turn around to get a better look, she licks her lips and smiles. If I were a betting man, I would bet she’s completely bare under that dress.
“Wow,” she sighs.
A wicked smile spreads across my lips. “Wow, what?”
“You look very presidential, Mr. Reed.”
She strolls up to me, and I take her in my arms.
“And you look very edible, Ms. Martinez.” An insatiable hunger for her strikes as my hands caress her perfect ass, feeling nothing underneath her dress. Just as I suspected.
Reading my mind, she puts a finger up. “Don’t even think about it, Sebastian. I’m not going out there looking like I did for the Washington Ball.”
We both smile, remembering the events of that night. Overflowing passions in the back of the limo, almost ended with her dress ripped in half. It wouldn’t have been so unacceptable if the rip was on the side of her leg. However it was up the front, nearly exposing all that lies beyond those long legs to the Joint Chiefs of Staff. We had to call a tailor to sew the split back together, while she wore it.
“You have to admit, it was worth the wardrobe malfunction.”
“I’ll agree,” she laughs.
Annalise Martinez is my latest companion, and a damn hot one. Statuesque, exotic, extremely curvy, and reeking of confidence. Not only is she beautiful in every way, she’s also the deputy Attorney General for my home state of Pennsylvania. We’re a powerful match made in political heaven, plus her sex drive matches mine; she rocks my fucking world, in bed and out. We’ve been together on and off for two years, and I can’t complain.
We both worked on the current president’s campaign, yet never ran into each other until the night of the inauguration. The president’s Chief of Staff introduced us and we talked most of the night, ending the evening in her bed. She was one hell of a lay, introducing me to handcuffs and showing me how to bring her to an orgasm by tying her up with rope. After our first night together, I called her a few days later and took her on an official date to my favorite restaurant in the city. We tried to make it through the dinner, until she discreetly eased her hand down my pants. There was no need for the dessert menu. Check, please! She’s mouthy, pushy, and a top-notch lawyer, with a fondness for luxury cars and horror movies. Annalise has me trying things I never thought about, and puts me in my place when necessary.
I’m in my mother’s office, waiting to talk to her before hosting my first fundraiser. Her office is covered in war memorabilia and antiques, making it one of my favorite rooms in the house. Her father, my grandfather and namesake, Atticus Montgomery, is a distant relative of Theodore Roosevelt. He was a general in the Korean War, and a senator, until his sudden death ten years ago. He left this house to her, and she lives here most of the time, spending little time in our family home in Pennsylvania. Like most of the men in my family, my grandfather was a playboy. He died bedding his thirty-year-old mistress on his eightieth birthday and to me, that’s the best way to go out, senator or not.
Mother enters and quickly admires Annalise’s choice in dresses.
“Sebastian, Annalise’s dress is magnificent. She was telling me earlier who designed this masterpiece.”
I plant a kiss on Annalise’s luscious lips. “Yes, Annalise can pick them, can’t she?”
“When are you going to marry this woman and get her off the market before someone else does?”
Annalise nervously snickers. I ignore the comment and change the subject, offering a compliment to my mother.
“Mother, you look ravishing.” She always looks impeccable and well put together, no matter what her mental state may be at the time. She has a history of suffering through bouts of anxiety and depression; however, lately she’s been doing well and staying on her prescribed medication. Not one to back out of talking about herself, she takes the bait.
“It’s not easy keeping myself put together. There’s so much spandex under this dress; if it rips, I’ll go flying to the moon. When you get my age, you’ll see.” Her usual response when someone compliments her appearance.
“By the looks of things out there, you outdid yourself again.” The praise will have her on my good side for most of the evening. If there is one way to make her happy, it’s kissing her ass. I learned that trick early on in my childhood if I wanted something, and it still works.
“Yes, I’m impressed at the list of RSVP’s. This should turn out quite well for you, Sebastian.”
“Not only that, the amount of money you’ve spent making this look like the White House had to be astronomical. The front of your house looks like a movie set out there. Have you seen Garrison, by the way?”
“No, he hasn’t arrived yet.” My mom shrugs.
My younger brother, Garrison Reed, has an ongoing drug problem and is now a self-proclaimed artist. While we were both groomed for a certain status, Garrison was never inclined to live that lifestyle. He has cost my mother thousands of dollars, covering up his messes, and she still does today, funding his life as a painter of abstract pieces of shit. Though every aspect of his life seems a worthless wreck, it’s what he wants. It’s not expected for him to become a productive member of society or hold a real job. An attempt was made when he began working for me as my assistant, but the first week left him whining and crying that working crushed his soul as an artist. My mother bought his pathetic excuse, and agreed he should quit and concentrate on his art.
Garrison, who is three years younger than me, has the same dark features, blue eyes, and chiseled bone structure; I was always envious of him. It’s not his looks I’m truly jealous of, though. It’s the way he compels people and demands their attention, just by his presence. People, especially women, seem to be drawn to him.
Spending our summer vacations in the Hamptons was incredible for two rich kids with anything and everything at our disposal. We had cars, clothes, and bank accounts attracting as many girls as we wanted. Because of our wealth and lack of parental supervision, we had access to drugs and alcohol at an early age. I knew when to say enough, yet my brother inherited my grandmother’s genes and never knew when to quit. Everything changed when I went to college in New England. I didn’t come home as much and summers in the Hamptons were over. Five years later, he decided to go to Berkley, under great protest from me wanting him to attend an Ivy League school.
The first time we suspected he was using drugs regularly was his sophomore year of college. I’ll be the first to admit I’m no saint when it comes to having a good time, but learned quickly that being fucked up wasn’t smart if I wanted to be out in front of the crowd. Garrison, on the other hand, wasn’t as strong and the first time he tried heroin, he became hooked. He still battles the demons of drug addiction fifteen years later. A life like Garrison’s is unimaginable to me. No reason to get up in the morning, no goals to reach for, and more importantly, no self-worth. For all his academic achievements, he’s destroying his life, and my mother allows him to continue down a destructive path. If there’s guilt to pass around, I’ve shown pity over the years, supporting him in and out of rehabs.
Thank God, my father wasn’t around to see my brother’s downfall. He never witnessed the unpleasant times of me going down to an abandoned building to carry his drugged-up ass out, watching him withdraw, and seeing the heartbreak in my mother’s face. Now, he’s just come out of yet another rehab, promising my mother and me that he’s once again a changed man. Having moved to Paris to paint, we haven’t seen him since his release, and he’s apparently bringing some girl with him to my fundraiser. That can only mean disaster, and another dilemma to clean up or pay to go away. In the past, when my brother brought women around, it was a sure bet he found her in a bar, rehab, or a strip joint. Tonight, will surely be no exception. He’s been told to use his head and be considerate of what the night is about. But, he’s never cared before, and I’m prepared to have him ushered out if he causes a scene.
“I’m going to finish getting ready. I’ll see you in a few minutes, Sebastian. You look incredible.” Annalise plants another delicious kiss on my lips and eases to the door, uncomfortable with our choice of topics. She knows all too well the shenanigans my brother has put my mother and me through the past two years. She saw the rage he put me in one night catching him snorting coke off one of my intern’s asses. I almost killed him with my bare hands, and would have if someone hadn’t stopped me. Garrison still brings that night up, and thinks it’s hilarious how unhinged I became.
After she steps out, I walk over to look out the window facing the back lawn, where several white tents are erected.
“Mother, you shouldn’t have spent so much money on this party. It’s obscene.”
“Nonsense. It isn’t every day your son runs for president. Hell, what else am I going to do with my money? This has been your dream since you were a little boy, and it’s time to make your dream come true and make your father proud.”
She’s right. I’d boast about my dream at five years old, pretending to be Teddy Roosevelt and a Rough Rider. When I recited Kennedy’s inauguration speech at eleven, the family clapped and said, “That’s our boy.” The obsession that had me running for class president every year and campaigning for every election - both nationally and locally - made people notice.
After graduating from law school, I was elected one of the youngest congressional representatives ever. My father and mother paved the way for me to enter politics as soon as possible. My mother, Marilyn Reed, is the newly retired Governor of Pennsylvania, serving for two terms with an astonishing seventy-two percent approval rating. She’s known for her avid work with the intercity and her feminist views and policies. My father was in the Senate since I was born, and had a brief, unsuccessful run for the White House in the early nineties. Along with the obsession of wanting to be the president, my love for my father and the need to carry on his legacy drives me to work nonstop. The presidency was his dream and something he wanted, yet never achieved. I made a promise to him when he was dying that I would do this for both of us.
As a congressional representative, recognition came from my stubbornness, relentless work ethic, and constant pursuit of women’s rights. When the Secretary of State went before the House Intelligence Committee to answer questions about his knowledge of an attack on one of our embassies, my relentless questioning almost brought him to tears. Because of that, I’m now recognized as one of the toughest representatives on the Hill. The prestige and power has me on top of the world, yet doesn’t satisfy me. The power of the presidency is in my reach and my hard work is about to pay off.
“You know what else would be spectacular tonight?” My mom waves her finger at me.
I eye her with contemplation, knowing what she’s going to say. “What, Mother?”
“Asking Annalise to marry you in the middle of your fundraiser. I have your grandmother’s ring right here in the drawer waiting for you. Tonight, would be perfect.”
“Perfect for who? Not me. I’m not ready yet to make such a commitment. Besides, it would be better when I’m the actual candidate to become engaged. Remember, you used to say, timing is everything.” She nods in agreement.
“Of all the things I’ve told you over the years, and that’s what you remember?” For the past year, she’s been on my ass to marry Annalise, so she can have grandchildren before she’s dead. Aging rather gracefully at sixty-eight, she looks twenty years younger, due to getting injected and stretched, and working out obsessively.
“I’m worried about Garrison screwing this u
p tonight, Mother.” She sits down, sipping one of three martinis placed on her desk earlier. Mother loves to drink, though no one outside the house has ever seen her indulge in this habit. She feels drinking makes her look cheap and weak in public. My grandmother was an alcoholic and she recalls from her childhood how ridiculous her mother looked, slurring her words and stumbling with a drink in her hand.
“Oh Sebastian, give him a chance. I had a long talk on the phone with him last night. He knows how important this evening is to you. I think this time he’s really trying.” Of course he’s trying. He tries for a while, just to get more money from our mother, then slithers back to his old self.
“Who’s this girl he’s bringing?” I ask.
Second martini down, she answers, “I have no clue. He promises this girl is a friend and nothing more.”
Something with that answer doesn’t sit right with me. I’ve never known my brother to have women as friends. One thing about Garrison is he falls in love with every woman he’s around. The love never lasts more than a month and he finds some reason to get rid of her. He’s been engaged four times and married once in Las Vegas.
She shakes her head. “I know nothing, other than she’s coming, and she’s a friend he met in Paris. Listen, Baron Hampton is going to be here tonight. You need to get on his good side. He’s major money and a super delegate you will need later down the line.”
“The name sounds familiar.” I think back, remembering his name from somewhere.
My mom stands again and walks to the window overlooking the preparation for my fundraiser. The caterers have arrived and are unloading trays with enough food to feed a third world country.