Commander (Politics of Love)

by Sienna Snow

  Maybe I should have jumped him. Then I wouldn’t feel this pull for him every time I was near him.

  I snorted inside. Who was I kidding?

  Once Ashur and I started the sexual aspect of our relationship again, there was no doubt we’d fuck every chance we got. We’d probably give Samina and Devin a run for their money.

  The last year and a half had built on a sexual undercurrent that had always existed between Ashur and me. I’d pretend to feel nothing and keep a “too cool for school” attitude. But everyone around us could feel the tension, especially Ashur. There was always a slight tug at his lips that would tell me he noticed my reaction to him. Something that made me want to punch him and kiss him.

  God, I hadn’t kissed him in forever. Yes, I’d pecked him for a brief moment in front of the media but nothing intimate. Not even during our quiet civil ceremony in his office. The sad part was that even the barest graze of his lips caused me to want to throw caution to the wind and seal the deal.

  Thankfully, Ashur had kept to his word about keeping our relationship platonic until we “officially” married.

  Sex would complicate things in a way that I worried I wouldn’t be able to keep things unemotional. Physical intimacy was something I shared with a person I loved, and I could never mistake what would happen with Ashur as anything other than quenching sexual need.

  Ashur had made it clear love was something he’d never feel for me again. I’d ripped his heart in two, and he’d never gotten over it.

  Shit. Why am I wallowing in this? I know what I’ve agreed to. Hell, I was the one who drew up the contract.

  “Ahh, I got you thinking. Please do me a favor. Lock the door whenever I’m around. No matter what I say. I don’t want to see my brother boning one of my best friends.”

  Thank God for Sam. She had a way with words that kept me from thinking too much.

  “Don’t worry. The Secret Service would stop you before you encountered a surprise.” I glanced at Casey, who was pretending he hadn’t heard anything we’d talked about.

  “I’m sure they have plenty of stories to tell but are sworn to secrecy.” Samina studied me as she made her comment. “Tara, I have a question for you.”

  “Shoot,” I said, lifting my glass to my lips and then taking another deep gulp.

  “Why aren’t you fucking my brother? A person has to be dead not to see the chemistry between you two. Is ‘no sex’ part of the bargain Ashur made with you?”

  I coughed, nearly choking on my champagne. How the fuck would she know about my deal with Ashur? He’d stipulated that no one was to know anything other than that we fell back in love.

  “What makes y—?”

  “Don’t even try that deflection shit. I am a master at that game.”

  I sighed, set my glass on the table, and leaned back on the couch, pinching the bridge of my nose. “It’s complicated.”

  “Every couple has issues. Hey, look at Dev and me. We worked through our problems and are happier than we’ve ever been.”

  She had a point. For years, Samina and Devin’s relationship was a secret. Sam being a celebrity attorney and a celebrity in her own right would have been detrimental to Devin’s and his father’s careers. So, for over a decade, they kept quiet about who they were to each other, even going as far as dating other people.

  It took Samina filing for divorce for Devin to get his act in gear and work his best to win her back. After a lot of work, the two of them were one of the most solid couples I knew and the proud parents of two beautiful children.

  “It’s different on a whole new level. You and Dev never stopped loving each other.”

  “Neither have the two of you.”

  I opened my eyes and gaped at her. “Sorry, but you are way off base. I loved Ashur for a long time after we broke up. It wasn’t until three years later when I started dating Xander that I got over him.”

  Xander Alexi was a man who’d given me what I’d needed to get over Ashur. He was a friend, a confidant, a study partner, and for a brief time, a lover. We’d known what we had wouldn’t last longer than our years at Harvard, Xander having to return to Greece to take over his family’s business and me moving to California to attend law school at Stanford. To this day we remained friends, with me serving as groom’s lady at his wedding.

  “I’m sure dating an international supermodel and shipping heir can do that to a girl.”

  “Whatever, I had no idea of his net worth until we were dating for a few months, and besides, you’re the one who introduced us. Our dates were never fancy. We were broke college kids who loved to hang out, study, and eat pizza.”

  “Are y’all really talking about ex-boyfriends when there is a wedding in less than three days?” Jacinta Camden-George, the junior senator from Texas and wife of the vice president, asked as she walked in from a back room with Shawna and Neya Sunkureddi. They all carried boxes, which I could assume contained my many outfits and accessories.

  Neya was a former partner turned friend, who happened to be a well-known fashion designer in India. When she’d offered to design my wedding outfits, I’d jumped at the chance. Outside of her work for international affairs, she was one of the most sought-after fashion designers in Indian haute couture.

  I smiled at everyone and then pointed to Sam. “She brought it up. I was merely an innocent bystander.”

  Jacinta glared at Samina. “She’s about to marry your brother, the president, and there are like a million reporters out front. The last thing the two of you need to do is talk about hot exes with unending bank accounts when someone could be hiding to record any conversations.”

  Sam winced—no one wanted to get on Jacinta’s bad side, especially after a four-hour Senate Finance Committee meeting. And the fact Jacinta was six months pregnant only added to the grumpiness.

  “Sorry. I promise never to bring up Tara’s hot-as-fuck ex again.”

  Shaking my head, I said, “Sam, you know I love you, but you are a complete pain in the ass.”

  “Torturing my bhabhi is a privilege I plan to use to the fullest. You’ve always been my sister, but now it will be official.”

  My heart contracted to hear her refer to me with the traditional Gujarati word for a sister-in-law. Sam and I had had a bond since we were young. She was the prodigy daughter of a billionaire, and I was the awkward tween daughter of a worker in her father’s company. We ran in different circles—Sam in the world of privilege and social standing and me in the life of limited income and saving pennies. But somehow, we’d always found each other. Especially during social events, where we never fit in and wanted to escape the pretense. We’d end up sitting in some hallway, chatting about nonsensical stuff and laughing our heads off.

  When the drama between Ashur and me happened, she was dealing with her own issues with her father and her relationship with Devin and the last thing I wanted to do was burden her with my troubles. We’d stayed in touch over the years, but it wasn’t until I entered law school and Samina was finishing up her last year that our bond had grown. Even though we were only a few months apart in age, she’d became my mentor and even helped me get my first job after Stanford.

  Then about seven years ago, we’d joined forces to start our own law firm. Sometimes, I still couldn’t believe the success we’d achieved in such a short time. I knew some of it was due to the clients Solon had referred to the firm, but no one, including Samina, knew that tidbit of information.

  “I guess that means I can boss you around like the older brother’s wife does in Bollywood movies,” I said to Sam.

  “And how would this be any different than normal?” Sam muttered, making Jacinta, Shawna, and Neya laugh. “You’d give Attila the Hun a run for his money.”

  “Bite me.” I picked up my glass again and took another deep sip. “I just like to make sure all I’s are dotted and T’s crossed.”

  “She’s got you there.” Neya set a box in front of me. “You’ve been a bossy boot since the moment I me
t you ten years ago. And with this wedding—you’re lucky I love you. Otherwise I would have designed the ugliest lengha possible for being such a micromanager.”

  “You’re one to talk, Miss Neya. Aren’t you the one known for threatening anyone who dares to touch your designs?” I sat up and began to open the box Neya brought me. “Let’s get this fitting underway. I’m due for a family dinner with the in-laws.”

  Sam groaned. “Don’t remind me. I’m not sure I won’t stab the tech man. I’m going to drink at least three more glasses to increase my tolerance for his antics.”

  “He’s your father.”

  “Thanks for the reminder.”

  I grinned at her and then poured us both another glass of champagne.

  Chapter Three

  A little before seven in the evening, I cleared security, and my car pulled up the private driveway leading to the entrance of the residence.

  The fitting had turned into a lot more fun than I’d expected and included three more bottles of champagne. I was a little tipsy, with my senses dulled enough to handle the parental encounter awaiting me inside.

  As an only child, I’d always wanted siblings, and my friends had turned into the family I dreamed of having. Those ladies would cut a bitch if anyone fucked with me.

  I sighed.

  If only Ameera was there, she’d have made it the ideal fitting. I missed her so much and couldn’t stop the worry that constantly plagued me whenever I thought about her, which was often. When the girls had asked about her, I’d made up some excuse, saying she had to finish up a project in South Africa and couldn’t get out of the assignment in time for the wedding. The girls were used to Ameera’s international assignments that kept her out of the country for months at a times, so my excuse was believable. I hated lying, but what else was I supposed to do?

  I was at the mercy of her captors, but if given the opportunity, I’d skip my wedding to get her back.

  What sucked was that Ameera had only been in Geneva to resign from Solon. I was her North American director but we all reported to the international directing board who were in Geneva, and they required an in-person debriefing when tendering a resignation.

  Years of working two time-consuming jobs had taken their toll on her, and she needed a change. One that wouldn’t require espionage and always looking over her shoulder. Her goal was to take over her mother’s fashion house and deal with the temperamental models instead of terrorists.

  She’d never made it to her meeting. Instead, five minutes after she’d left her hotel, she was taken by the remaining members of a sleeper group Solon had brought down.

  Now it was over three months later, and we still hadn’t gotten her back. I could only hope and pray she was okay.

  The car passed over a speed bump, jostling me out of my brooding.

  I released a deep breath and pulled out my compact.

  Time to get my game face on and ready myself to survive the night.

  I could do it. Many people had in-law issues. I could deal with my father-in-law.

  The door opened, and I scooted over. Casey offered me his hand as I stepped out.

  “Is everyone here?” I asked Casey.

  “I received word both families are waiting for you and Mr. Kumar in the Yellow Oval Room.”

  Straightening the pleats on my floor-length dress, I glanced toward the gardens. From my angle, I could see the windows of the Oval Office. Ashur would be in his meeting with the House Republicans.

  Hopefully, the discussion would go smoothly, and they wouldn’t run over. The last thing I wanted to do was be in a room with Minesh Kumar without Ashur. Minesh had turned my life upside down and ruined any chance of marrying for love.

  I should have gotten over the past by now, but it was hard to do when the man took every opportunity to insult me and turn his nose up whenever I was in his vicinity.

  I’d held my tongue for the last two years, wanting to keep the peace for Ashur’s and Samina’s sakes. They both had political careers where reporters and potential challengers were looking to find any dirt on their personal lives. Any whiff of my discourse with my father-in-law could lead to people snooping into my background more than they already had, and I had enough on my plate as it was.

  “This way, Ms. Zain.”

  I studied Casey as I followed him through the entryway of the residence. He wasn’t the only Solon agent I’d seen working in the White House since Ashur took office. Solon had men and women stationed in every government across the globe.

  Yes, the organization’s goal sounded idealistic, and maybe it was, but when any government had any say in an organization, there was always bureaucracy to slow things down. And what we did was time sensitive and could mean the difference between life and death. And then there was the fact that we toed the line of legal and illegal means of accomplishing our objectives.

  Shit, I had to stop thinking I was still part of Solon. I couldn’t afford the ramifications of anyone finding out what I’d spent my time doing for the last ten years.

  A tall, middle-aged, balding man approached Casey. I had never met him before, and I thought I’d met all the staffers. He shuffled back and forth in his too-tight suit, making me think he’d been a few pounds lighter when he’d bought his clothes.

  After a few words, he glanced in my direction and then back at Casey. He then pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed his face, and left without a backward glance.

  Whatever Casey said to him had scared the living shit out of him enough that he couldn’t run away fast enough.

  “Do I want to know what that was all about?” I asked, seeing a bit of agitation on Casey’s face.

  “President Kumar asked that you met him in his office.” He gestured toward a hallway.

  Once we cleared the additional security, I said, “It had to be more than just that.”

  “He broke procedure, and I informed him if he ever approached you without clearance that Mr. Kumar would hear about it.”

  I frowned. “If he dared to touch me, I could break every bone in his pudgy hand before he knew what hit him. Hell, you’re the one who taught me the move.”

  “Yes, but no one is supposed to know this. As Secretary Camden said after the meeting, you will need to curb your reflexes. As far as anyone knows, you’ve spent the last few years taking on human rights cases that require hours in the courtroom, not time training to disarm combatants.”

  “I hope you’re going to be available at god-awful hours to help me get out the aggression that’s been building up without training.”

  “Give me the time and place, and I’ll be there.”

  “I will hold you to that, and it may be sooner rather than later.”

  As I approached the closed doors of the office, two Secret Service agents nodded their greetings and opened the door.

  “Go right in, Ms. Zain.”

  I smiled and nearly ran straight into Senator Harrison from Georgia.

  “Excuse me, Senator,” I said, trying to steady myself.

  He all but glowered at me. “You, young lady, are a terrible influence on him. With Kumar’s approach to policy, I’d viewed him as a conservative in the guise of an independent. But now, with you in the picture, I’m not sure anymore.”

  “I believe you give me more credit than I deserve. Ashur is his own man and will do as he sees fit.”

  He snorted. “We’ll see.” Then he walked around me and into the hall.

  The doors closed, making me jump.

  Ashur held a tumbler in his hand and leaned against the wall near his desk, the Resolute Desk.

  God. Could the man get any sexier?

  He wore a dark gray suit custom made to fill out his very built six-three frame. His almost jet-black hair was cut short and combed neatly. Something I knew went against his natural style but was required as part of his job title. His light brown eyes stared at me in a way that made me think of things that were better left locked down.

  This man w
as too good looking for his own good. No wonder the press loved to comment about him being the “hot president.”

  A tingle shot into my core, and I felt the urge to shift my legs in hopes of curbing my need.

  Why couldn’t I get my hormones under control when I was around him? I wasn’t the barely legal high school graduate anymore. Dammit, I was thirty-three fucking years old.

  The slight curve to his lips told me he’d caught my reaction, but instead of saying anything, he offered me his tumbler. “Want a sip?”

  I walked toward him, trying to ignore the cocky grin on his face, took the glass from his fingers, and brought it to my lips before taking a deep gulp of the scotch he preferred, a twenty-five-year-old Macallan.

  The potent, over-the-top expensive liquid burned down my throat and gave me something to think about other than the desire I felt for the man next to me.

  “What did Harrison say to you?” Ashur picked up a lock of my hair and twirled it around his callused finger.

  “He thinks I’m a bad influence. And that my liberal views are rubbing off on you.”

  “He’s just mad I sided with the Democrats on a pipeline he wants me to open up. He knew my stance on environmental issues even before the election. He’ll get over it.”

  “Your nonchalance is going to get you in trouble. You don’t want the Republicans to close rank when you name your Supreme Court pick.”

  “I’ll worry about that later. Like when Justice Bosworth announces her retirement.”

  I almost said she wasn’t the only one planning to retire but kept my mouth shut. I’d have to disclose my source, and that would be open up a whole can of worms I wasn’t ready to address.

  After a few moments, he said, “You’re good for me, Tara. You don’t let me intimidate you, and you show me points of view that are opposite of mine.”

  “Now that is something I never expected to hear from your lips.” I glanced at him, leaned a hip against a table by the window, and folded my arms. “You never give compliments twice in one day. What do you want from me?”