Restrained Under His Duty

by Stacey Kennedy

  The governor’s icy blue stare tries to challenge me, a contest he’ll never win. He obviously realizes that and tears his gaze away, downing the remainder of his scotch. He sets the glass down on the end table next to the wingback chair and offers his hand. “Just remember, Winters, we need to show a solid front in Washington.”

  “I understand.” The senator returns the handshake. “Please, enjoy the party.”

  Pleasantries done and over with, the governor leaves the room and the senator approaches me, placing his hand on my shoulder. “Thank you for that. I take it I don’t have a phone call?”

  “You looked like you needed a break.”

  “I did,” says the senator with a long, suffering sigh. “Come on, let’s take one.”

  Silently, I follow him out of the room, staring at his back, seeing the slight drop in his shoulders. The senator needs a vacation. Christ, maybe he needs to retire at this point. But that’s none of my business. Not that I think he’d listen to anyone anyway. The senator lives to work, and I respect that about him.

  When we reach the back door near the kitchen, the senator exits the house and enters the small garden off his study. Not a soul in sight, and even the loud voices are quieter here. I assume that’s exactly what he loves about this place and possibly why he comes here often to unwind.

  Gary sits down at the white metal table and waves me over to a chair. “Come, Blackwood, you’ve been on your feet all night.”

  Typically I’d refuse, as I always like to be ready to act if I need to, but we’ve worked together long enough for me to know that he won’t be satisfied until I sit. I take the seat next to him and stretch out my legs, letting my guard down for now.

  Then I look at him. The man I’ve known for most of my life, the man I would take a bullet for. Not because I’m paid to but out of loyalty to a good man. It bothers me that he’s looking frail and gaunt these days. His skin is wrinkled far past his sixty years, and the circles under his eyes aren’t only noticeable, they’ve darkened almost to black. The only thing that hasn’t changed from when he first hired me is the subtle strength in his eyes. He’s a man who rules from morals and ethics, and prefers to lead by example. People follow and trust him because of it, as do I.

  I stay silent, watching him puff on his cigar as he leans his head back and blows the smoke high in the air, giving him the time he needs to unwind from the party and from an obviously tense conversation with the governor.

  Slowly I begin to see the guy I know start to emerge, a man without worries and stress. He rubs his tired-looking eyes. “There’s much corruption going on right now, Blackwood.”

  “In Washington?” I ask.

  Gary nods. “I’m being squeezed from all sides to change my vote. The things I’m being offered are tempting, I’ll tell you that.”

  “Usually deals with the Devil are,” I offer.

  “How very true that is.” He nods again, taking another long drag of his cigar and blowing out a puff of smoke around him. “A lesser man would take the Devil’s bargain, no doubt about it.”

  “Is this a problem we need to look into?”

  “It may become one.” The senator draws a deep breath and shuts his eyes, enduring the obvious weight of responsibility on his shoulders. When he opens his eyes again, he’s refocused. “Let’s see how this all plays out. I may stay out of the crossfire and I don’t want to make this a bigger deal than it is.”

  Always levelheaded and pragmatic, that’s the senator. “Can you determine if this corruption is financially motivated?” Which always matters, because more often than not money makes good men do bad things.

  The senator bobs his head. “It started with being offered a powerful position, and when that didn’t work, it’s now a shit ton of money to change my vote.”

  I know the answer but ask anyway, “And that didn’t work either?”

  He puffs on his cigar and the woodsy smoke billows around him. “Of course not. But nevertheless, the options to buy me are narrowing, which is why we might need to keep a closer eye on things.”

  “You’ll let me know if things become tenser?” Politics is a fast game. One minute the world is falling apart. The next it isn’t. Sometimes it’s all about the waiting game to see if trouble is coming.

  Gary gives a gentle smile. “You’ll be the first to know.” He pulls in another long drag of the cigar, blowing the smoke out in a perfect line. “Remind me again why I got into politics, Blackwood?”

  “Because you’re a glutton for punishment, sir?”

  He laughs, free and easy. “That must be true.” He taps the cigar, knocking off the ashes. “Now, before we get back to the party, we’ve got something else to discuss, don’t we?”

  “Yes, sir, I believe we do.” There’s no avoiding the inevitable. We both know that.

  Gary sits back in his chair and gives me a level look. “Are you sleeping with my daughter, Blackwood?”

  His directness is expected. It’s what I respect about him most. “No, sir.” Would I like to? Now that’d be a different answer altogether.

  He pauses. Then, thankfully, doesn’t ask the question I don’t want to answer. “Are you in love with her?”

  I stare at him, thinking hard about how to answer him. I’d been with the Winters family for six and a half years now, hired on when Gary took office in his first term, but also stayed on for his second term. One brick through his window after he became senator, which nearly hit Hadley, had been enough of a scare to hire security. And now, with my parents cruising around on a sailboat at the moment alongside their retired friends and only calling when they were in port, I suppose he felt pretty close to being family, too. He deserves an answer. “I’m sure you’re already well aware that I care deeply for your family.”

  Gary’s mouth twitches. “You do realize that’s not quite an answer to my question.”

  “I’m aware, sir.”

  A long silence stretches out between us. Then, “Do I take that to mean the answer is complicated?”

  “Quite complicated” is my carefully worded response.

  Gary is a smart man. He reads between the lines. It’s clear enough that I want his daughter in ways I shouldn’t. If he asks outright, I’ll never lie to him. That is a trust between us I will never break. But I have no intention of telling him that for a year now, his daughter has made advances on me. Advances that tempt me to do very dirty things to her. No matter how much trust lies between us, he doesn’t need to know any of that.

  Gary taps his fingers against the armrest and examines me. He finally blinks, and his voice softens as he adds, “I hope you know that I’d give you my blessing to date her, Ryder.”

  It’s a rare thing for Gary to use my first name. I admit it rattles me a little and makes things a bit too personal. I’m trying to forget about Hadley and keep my control around her, not indulge this line of thinking. “Right now, your daughter and I are featured in the grocery store tabloids for reasons totally unknown to me.”

  Which isn’t exactly the whole truth. Just over a week ago, I found recording devices in my close friend Gabe O’Keefe’s pub monitoring our private conversations. The tabloids love my powerful San Francisco friends, which is why I’m on that damn cover. I don’t remember if it ever came up in conversation that I cared for Hadley, but I’m sure it could have been implied. The senator also doesn’t need to know these things. Reminded of how much he has on his plate, I add, “And now you have to deal with this corruption you mentioned. My mind is focused on those issues at the present time, nothing else.”

  “You’ll let me know if your mind focuses elsewhere?” Gary drops his cigar, extinguishing it with the tip of his shoe.

  “Of course.”

  “Good,” Gary replies. “Now, speaking of the tabloids, will this be a problem for me?”

  He’s not annoyed, I can tell. Just concerned by the rags’ sudden interest in me and Hadley and why we’re being lumped together, and I’d expect him to be. “It won’t
become your problem. I’ll find out not only who is behind this story about us but why the tabloids are focusing on your daughter at all.”

  “That’s good enough for me” is his reply.

  It doesn’t surprise me in the least that’s all he needs to hear to confirm I won’t let my problems become his. That’s my promise to him, and that’s exactly why Hadley is untouchable. I don’t complicate things. I never break my word.

  “So,” the senator says, sliding back into business mode, rising from his seat. “We’ve got corruption on my end, the tabloids riding your ass, and perhaps a forbidden love situation with my beloved daughter, have I got that right, Blackwood?”

  I rise with him and smile. “Just another day at the office, sir.”

  Chapter 3

  Hadley

  Early Friday morning, I hurry out of The Harrison, a high-rise near the Bay Bridge. The condominium is modern luxury and has been my home for the past four years. Sunshine and fresh air greet me as my heels click against the cement sidewalk of First Street.

  Harold, the news vendor who has been working on the corner of Market Street since I was a kid, calls out to me. I give him a quick wave, but today I’m running a little late. I don’t have time to stop and chitchat with him, as I usually do on my morning walk to work.

  Once I reach the T intersection, I take a quick left before arriving at Peet’s Coffee & Tea. The local coffee shop sits at the bottom of a high-rise right in the heart of the Financial District and is my place to go for my morning cup of strong, hot coffee. That’s one part of my morning that no matter how late I am I can’t live without.

  When I enter the small shop decorated with tall windows on the front and a handful of tables scattered throughout the room, it’s busy like it usually is. I skip the line of customers, moving to the counter off to the side. “Mornin’,” I say to Sam, who quickly flashes me his charming smile. He’s a cute brown-haired hipster who’s worked at the café since its grand opening and fully supports my caffeine addiction.

  “Hey, Hads.” He hands me my usual caramel caffé latte.

  I suppose I should be embarrassed that I’m this predictable, but I’m not. I love their coffee and can’t do a damn thing without it. “Thanks. You’re the best.” I smile and hand him some money and a tip, blowing him a kiss before leaving the café. Hell, Sam’s worth the two-dollar tip I give him every day for having my drink ready for me.

  Only seconds later, I enter the high-rise and move quickly through security and into the stairwell next to the elevator. Being careful with my latte, I trot up to the third floor and enter my father’s San Francisco office. Immediately, I’m hit by the typical hustle and bustle that happens here. From nine o’clock in the morning to five o’clock at night, no one ever sits around with nothing to do.

  I greet my coworkers with a smile on my way down the hallway and quickly enter the sixth door on the right. There’s nothing special about my office. There’s a plain industrial-style desk with a black swivel chair behind it and a filing cabinet in the corner, with a couple of plants and photos on the windowsill, and that’s about it. My salary isn’t inflated because I work for my father; I’m really not treated special here—in any way. Even my view of the Financial District isn’t the best. Dad was never one to offer a handout, not even to me. Truth be told, that’s what I respect about him the most. Hard work is how you prove your worth to him.

  I sit in my chair, take a quick sip of my coffee, and relish the jolt of energy it gives me. Ready to get Dad’s schedule set for next week so I can relax this weekend, I power up my computer.

  “Is he here?” Owen enters my office.

  I stifle a shiver of disgust and glance up from my desk. “The senator, you mean?”

  “Yes.” Owen’s voice is gravelly and low, like he’s smoked way too many cigarettes over the years. “Is he in?”

  The lines around his eyes are harsh. The scowl even more ugly. But that’s Owen Cook, the governor’s sidekick. I’ve never been entirely sure what he does for the governor or why he comes to see my dad as much as he does, but this guy, and his sunken, dark almond-shaped eyes, gives me the full-on creeps. “He should be in the office soon, but I’m afraid he doesn’t have time to see you—”

  “I need five minutes—”

  I suppose some women might recoil from this guy. But I guess that’s why my dad hired me as his scheduler during his last campaign, because I can handle these pushy people. He always said I was the one who won the last campaign for him. I knew when he needed time to regroup and prepare for the days ahead. I knew his personal schedule with my mom, although she was around quite a bit for the publicity, and I could juggle his political calendar, vetting some of the toughest statesmen around. “Mr. Cook, if you’d like an appointment with the senator, you’ll need to give me at least a day’s notice. Does tomorrow work—”

  Owen’s scowl deepens. “You have the power to squeeze me in, Miss Winters.”

  Yeah, I did. But bending over backward for this prick isn’t on my to-do list. “Just give me one second to check his calendar.” I quickly reach for my phone in my purse and text my father: Stay away from my office and the main entrance. Cook is here and he’s in a mood.

  Once the text sends, I give Owen my most professional smile. “I’m afraid his day is booked solid. Again, will tomorrow be suitable?”

  Owen huffs in a way that no grown man should. Then he’s gone and I’m happy, my good mood slowly returning. I learned a long time ago not to let anyone ruin my day. Political people can be very passionate, and usually not in a good way.

  I raise my phone again and text Dad: He’s gone, but keep on alert. He may find you. I can almost hear my father’s laughter as I place the phone down beside my keyboard and get to work.

  My inbox is full as usual, and I begin to weed through the emails as I grab my coffee cup to wash away the last of my fatigue. Just as the coffee is about to hit my lips, a pop-up appears on my screen with the message: Your father needs to retire. You’ve got until Monday at midnight to make that happen.

  Suddenly I feel like I’m watching a nightmare.

  A video appears showing me with my lips parted in a scream of pleasure that I can’t hear. One man grips my hair tightly, forcing my mouth over his condom-covered cock. The second man is behind me passionately thrusting against me. My heart begins pounding in my chest and the world slowly slips away. My face is clearly shown, but the men are wearing masquerade masks that completely cover their faces. I don’t know them, not personally anyway, though the video is real. I had received an invitation to be with them that night. The stipulations on the invitation had been clear: complete secrecy and total surrender. And while I regret it now, I accepted their invitation because the man I wanted didn’t want me.

  I wipe my sweaty palms on my black pencil skirt. Make my father retire?

  Obviously, I’m being blackmailed and I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, considering my father is in politics. But why does someone want my father to retire, and why are they using me to make that happen? I don’t know and I also have no intention of telling my father about this video in order to find out. He wouldn’t understand. No one would. I know that because no one ever has.

  I stare at myself in the video, eyes pinched shut and mouth parted in pleasure, and I know that this video could ruin not only me, but my father, too.

  “Hadley.”

  I snap my head up; my father is standing in the doorway staring at me with obvious concern on his face. I turn off my monitor and place my hands flat on my desk. “Yes. Sorry.”

  “I said your name three times,” he says, entering my office and shutting the door behind him. “Are you all right?”

  I force my smile. “Right as rain.”

  Of course my father doesn’t believe me. He’s too smart for that. “Did Owen give you a hard time?”

  “He was his usual horrible self.” I hate lying to my father and not telling him what’s really wrong, the video on my damn scree
n, but there’s no way in hell I’m involving Dad in this.

  No one compares to the man sitting in front of me. I don’t put my dad on a pedestal, he put himself there and that’s why I work for him. I like being a part of his life every day, especially once I moved out. I’ve always been Daddy’s girl and that hasn’t changed with age. I doubt it ever will. But I’m also a grown woman who has needs that are surely none of her father’s business.

  While my parents would be less than thrilled to hear that I’ve spent some time in a sex club and partaken in a ménage, I can’t live in my father’s shadow. He’s in the public eye, I’m not, and I’ve taken every precaution to keep my private life private.

  As guilt begins to rear its ugly head, I remind myself that someone videotaped me without my consent. And with that, I place the blame where it belongs, on the blackmailer, and ask my father, “What’s up?”

  He watches me for another long moment before he asks any further questions. “Your mother was wondering if you were planning on coming up to Napa Valley anytime soon?”

  Now that I had this video to deal with…“Not this weekend. Maybe soon.”

  “She’d like to see you,” my father gently nudges. “She misses you.”

  Mom always spent the summers in Napa Valley. She lived the retired life, always asking Dad to join her. He wasn’t ready to retire yet, though I understood my mom’s desire to get out of the city.

  When my lips part to object again, he adds, “Skype is not enough to keep your mother appeased.”

  Truthfully, I probably didn’t even Skype her as much as I should. While I miss seeing her every day, she’s happy, and that makes Dad happy. So how can I argue with that? “I’ll get there soon. Promise,” I tell him.

  “Good.” Obviously pleased by my answer, he smiles, crossing his legs, and moves on. “How’s my life looking for next week?”

  “Busy.” I grab the early draft of his itinerary I printed out last night before leaving and hand it to him. As I watch him go through the papers, one by one, I can’t help but snort. “You know, this would be a lot easier if you’d let me put your calendar on your cellphone.”