Seduced By The Senator

by Alex Elliott

  He speaks in a measured cadence. His deep voice punctuates the syllables with Southern charm. At the end, he smiles, waves, and I can’t believe, his speech is over. Entranced, I want to hear more. Everyone around me stands. My heart clamors and I bound to my feet with the room gone wild, clapping, and I don’t care. I put my fingers in my mouth and blow out an ear piercing whistle. Every person I cross glances with is smiling. It’s like earlier today—another contagious contact high—and the music starts up, It’s Time. Imagine Dragons...his campaign song, and then the contained energy within the room explodes.

  The fixed bodies turn into a fluid wave with flashes of light and I watch as several women line up next to the stage, waving to Bennett. The people in the aisle behind me thump each other on the back, wearing his campaign button or a few, and the buzz of voices gets louder. Drinks are being served and I thread my way through the crowd, slowly savoring the ticking seconds where I hover and freely watch him IRT, his forte and what a strength.

  He’s the type of politician who’s pure charisma in person. It’s no wonder he’s burning up the map.

  Colin couldn’t be more wrong if he tried. Bennett very well possesses the makings of a presidential candidate, and I wonder about his aspirations. What does his future hold? Strange, I don’t have a clue about mine in any firm absolutes, but here I’m resolute in thinking of his. Running for president—the goal—would require much planning. It’s a fair question and I’m going to ask him tonight.

  A few feet away and it’s all I can do to restrain myself these last couple of steps. When I’m in back of him, listening to him thank people for coming and for their support, I stop and enjoy the view. He holds a drink, and has yet to sip. His broad shoulders stretch his jacket into a remarkable V-shape, and I long to reach out and run my fingers along the edge of his body.

  God, this man is so sculpted. He might as well be carved out of stone. I smile at the thought and speak his name in a whisper-soft voice, “Bennett?”

  Perhaps I’m hoping he doesn’t hear me so I can stroke my fingers down his muscular arm as if employing an innocent attempt at garnering his attention. Yet true to form, his name is barely out of my mouth and he swings toward me. His green eyes forcefully lock onto mine and the impact makes me both dizzy and hungry all at once.

  “Where’ve you been?” he growls, his expression expectant yet also intense and focused on me. He’s clean shaven as he was this morning, but in a dark suit and starched white shirt, he’s breathtakingly beautiful.

  “An emergency. I apologize. I had to take care of some family business before we leave tomorrow. I’m so embarrassed at running out. My cousin just showed up a day early and several million brain cells short. I promise, nothing like that will happen again.”

  “Oh, I see.” His eyes glint brighter but don’t hold mine when he lowers his gaze down my body.

  “But I’m here now. Ready and able.” I wait, tension building, something is brewing. His eyes devour me. Is he going to say something—do something besides stare?

  I’m wearing a formfitting red gown with a teasing, yet proper décolletage. A floor-length, swanky number, complete with beading on the bodice that tinkles seductively as I move—like now. His nostrils flare as his gaze roams lower and lower then pauses. I’m sure he’s gotten an eyeful of my excessively high heels—strappy silver stilettos—peeking out the side slit of my dress. He’s got a thing for sexy shoes, and I’m counting the seconds until I hear his response. One-one thousand. Two-two thousand. Three-three—

  “So are you here to stop by on your way out the door or what’s your purpose?”

  Not the response I was expecting and I stare up at him, momentarily stunned. “I’m here on official business. Your intern.” I reply, not liking his tone. “Unless that’s changed, Senator Stone.”

  The muscle ticking at the side of his handsome cheek gives him an aura of barely contained alpha masculinity—two clicks north of a rampage. From my little-stocked knowledge bank, Ben’s ready to blow.

  He laughs. “Official business? Don’t use big words you don’t understand.”

  Click.

  Click.

  Boom!

  “Excuse me?” I scoff.

  “See if you can keep up without disappearing.” He stares down at me, cocking his eyebrow.

  What’s up with him? And like clockwork, an attractive brunette sidles up next to him before I can respond.

  “Senator Stone, I’m seated next to you tonight,” she purrs and I bite my tongue as a line of fire ignites in my veins.

  Oh just you wait! I’m going to give him an earful when we’re alone.

  “Ah, Mrs. Mansfield,” he replies. “An honor.”

  Great. This must be Mrs. Mansfield. A huge fan of his. The one Nora mentioned as having made a gigantic donation. I plaster a smile on my face, realizing this is what’s expected of me. He takes her hand and shakes, squeezes, and they trade compliments.

  “Then shall we?” he replies to her, and I prepare to get out my cell to check the seating charts. Where in the hell am I supposed to go? I can’t believe I didn’t think about my own seat in all the hubbub. Some intern!

  “Not so fast,” he snarls, towering at my side, his fingers on my arm.

  I turn and see Mrs. Mansfield speaking with another woman. They look like a pair of cougars on a hunt and then I get what...or rather who is their prize. Bennett curls his fingers further over my elbow, jerking his chin toward the largest table in the room. His. “This way, Ms. Kennedy.”

  “I don’t understand. Your table is booked. Nora and I discussed each seat. Aren’t I—”

  His stare consumes me and I stop babbling. His table has some big name players and I never imagined I’d be sitting with him tonight.

  “You’re seated on my right.” Bennett lowers his voice, bringing his lips inches from my ear. “Do you need help remembering your duties?”

  I feel the pressure of his fingers tightening on my skin and I shake my head. “No. I don’t need a reminder.”

  “I’m happy to provide a refresher. Just say the word, little intern.” He drops his gaze down to my lips, and the muscle along his jaw quirks faster.

  God, I want to reach up and run my fingers along his jaw. Trace his mouth—then yank handfuls of his hair until he feels a small piece of the pain that’s slicing through me. When he releases my arm and smiles at Mrs. Mansfield, I want to shout, step between them until it’s only me he sees.

  Of course, Senator Stone appears ready and willing to charm this women stupid, beginning with his customary panty-melting grin. He introduces me as his staff but the women can’t peel their eyes off Bennett, especially Mansfield. She’s positively besotted by him.

  Dinner is called and as we walk toward the table, I clench my teeth as Stone converses with her. I find out that the other woman is another huge campaign supporter. In their midst, he’s smooth, their voices drone on and on... la-la-la.

  We sit and introductions are made. I’m seated next to a CEO who informs me his wife couldn’t make it. Apparently, I’m installed in her spot. His eyes feast on my chest and I’m repulsed but smile and nod. I can discuss a myriad of subjects mindlessly—I’ve got years of experience. I respond, off my game, scrambling to recall the packet of information Nora supplied. Drinks are served, then there’s the food. I don’t taste anything. I’m seething, sitting next to Bennett as he basically ignores me the whole time.

  People near me appear more relaxed, unlike me, and the conversation becomes lively around the table. The others ask about my name, and then I remember I’m wearing a name tag. They ask question after question about my family connections, which of course I downplay, using well-timed questions to hide behind.

  Each and every second, I’m hyper aware of Stone and his fan girls. The other woman pays more attention to the man seated next to her, leaving Mansfield a giggling mess. She flashes Bennett her ultra-white bright veneers, leaning forward to display her salon purchased tan and barely c
oncealed rack.

  If I could roll my eyes any louder I would in a heartbeat.

  Mansfield sweeps her fingers along his arm; obviously, she wants more and touches him for the umpteenth time. Her touch on him annoys me to no end, and I’m holding my breath, waiting for the next time she seeks him out—first just a squeeze to his forearm that leads to a curling of her fingers on his sleeve, followed by a trailing of her hand to his. When she taps her fingers along his chest, enough is enough. I’m on the verge of shouting, get a room as I sit on the edge of my chair, watching his fanatic groupie.

  He does nothing to stop the woman. He talks, smiles, and has the table laughing. My face grows hotter and my fuse gets shorter. He’s seeking purchase within me for his need for...payback? But that doesn’t seem probable. What is it that’s got him going and now me in turn? Dammit, he can’t still be mad that I bailed. I supplied an excuse, albeit an imperfect excuse—and I think about Colin. I furrow my brow. Colin.

  “Senator Stone. Do you mind?” A man carrying a camera smiles in back of the CEO’s chair, and I hear Bennett’s reply.

  “Go right ahead.”

  The photographer nods to a woman next to him, and she drums her fingers on the screen of a tablet. She begins typing, her eyes traveling to each person seated at our table, darting toward the name tags, and when she gets to me, she does a double take, and I feel my body grow cold.

  She taps the cameraman’s arm and juts her chin. I’ve had my fair share of photo opt moments in the past. Cocktail parties and celebrations with the family. I watch as the photographer shifts position. He lifts and points his camera across the table, aiming at me, and then there’s a flash. The burst of light is niggling.

  I’m back to thinking about my dumbbell cousin. His sudden appearance today, hovering like a black cloud; except for all the flashes from the guy near us, snapping countless photographs like what’s going on now.

  The photographer at the side of the table begins going full force, snapping streams of photographs. Suddenly, everyone freezes and plasters on faker than shit smiles. I can’t bear to look at Bennett...but I do. I only get a glimpse of his profile and he’s not smiling. I look away just as fast. These photographs that will be in the paper. Society section—the photos could filter back to social media outlets, the Associated Press—the list is endless. Dammit, these pictures could gain traction.

  Of course they will—isn’t that what Nora said when I sent her a slew from today? Their PR team will be all over this tonight—it’s Bennett’s last campaign stop for a while.

  What did I think? I’d be an intern, stuck in some back office? Not with a name like Kennedy. I’m seated on the right of a powerful man, and he’s working the crowd.

  Strange that my cousin didn’t call me, but showed up, dropping a bomb into my lap... and I can see Colin’s intentions, plain as day. He didn’t try to hide the fact of what he was doing—using me like a tool! I was played by Colin, and right now, he’s probably talking shit about me. I glance around, and avoid looking directly into the camera lens.

  One thought blares. Is this another version of me being sold? I’m so tired of being used.

  Now, I see red. Not the Senator Stone silk tie kind or my Valentino red dress kind, but the kind that has me in need of settling a score. First things first. I’m going to deal with my family, and then deal with Bennett. Find out exactly what’s eating him and the bigger gerrymandering issue. Is he using me—my name—to promote himself?

  Right now, I no longer care what my family thinks. I’m going to come clean and tell them to back off like I should have done years ago. I don’t care if they disown me. Damn, it might be better to sever the suffocating Stillman ties. I can’t believe I’ve waited this long to stand up to them. Once I’m a Kennedy without a family, maybe Stone’s sudden interest in me will dwindle. Hah! I can hardly wait to tell him and see his face, when I announce I’m a free agent!

  I excuse myself to the CEO, and stride toward the entrance doorway leading from the ballroom. I’m going to call Gran and discuss her other grandchild and what a complete moron he is, and how their collective level of gossiping has sunk so low, I want no part in their little world. Effectively, I’m done with them.

  I’m not five paces down the hall when my arm is yanked backward by a set of fingers, digging into my flesh. “What the—” I stop my whisper-snarl and stare up into Stone’s very angry face.

  “Where in the hell are you going?” he demands in a low voice. His eyes are like ice—cold and more cutting than his words.

  I don’t consider the consequences. “What would it even matter? Haven’t you got enough women falling all over themselves in there?”

  With a snap of his arm, he takes hold of my wrist and tugs me closer. “You don’t just leave. You should’ve come and told me. Face-to-face. I don’t care if I’m on stage or sitting with the president. You come find me and talk to me. There’s no disappearing between us.”

  “We’ll see!”

  “What the hell does that mean?” he thunders quietly.

  “I have to set someone straight. I had a visitor come to campus today. You don’t understand my overbearing family but I’m through with them. And if that means, I’m no longer on your team, then just tell me. I’m a big girl!”

  “Who was that guy who you were talking to, in the aisle at Harvard? The one cornering you.”

  I hadn’t actually said my cousin was a guy. Only that my family required an emergency exit, and left the choice of a follow-up phone call in Bennett’s court. I replay the campus talk and there’s Colin lurking in the aisle. Okay, I get a small part of why the man in front of me is pissed.

  “That was my cousin.” I stow my breath and hold his gaze, tapping into the realization that this means I might have to explain how fucked up my family really is to see if he understands how far I’m about to go. I’ll be the opposite of an advantage if I get placed on the Stillman ‘S’ list. “That guy is Colin Stillman and he’s my cousin. My very annoying family relation and just so you know, I’m about to cut all ties to them. I’m a Kennedy only in name. I’m a Stillman but part of the black sheep section, and after tonight, might not be welcomed anywhere near them.”

  For a second, we stare at each other. Then he tilts his head to the side. “Dinner is that way,” he states in a steely voice.

  “I did my duty. It’s over.”

  “Not where I’m concerned. I don’t care about your family. You can have them or not. I’m only interested in you.”

  One of the hotel staff announces that dessert is being served. A few guests talking on cells within the hallway retreat back inside. People have paid good money to sit at Stone’s table, and I expect to see him backtrack in some fashion toward the ballroom entrance.

  “I need a moment.” I don’t know what to say—his admission confounds me. I’m not out of control, just confused.

  He doesn’t make a move to leave me. “Come with me,” he commands.

  “No, I don’t want to go back inside... not right now. I have to make a phone call.”

  “Who said anything about going back there?” He yanks me to him and I collide against the hard surface of his body but I falter as though I’m stumbling. “You’re coming with me!”

  He moves, striding farther from the ballroom doorway with me in tow. One of his rock hard arms is curled around my waist as he conducts me down a corridor, and suddenly we’re standing in front of the rear elevator. He hits the button and the doors part. Once inside, he comes at me with an inescapable force and there’s nowhere to hide. He plants both his hands on either side of my head, and stares down at me. “You. Are. Mine.”

  “Is that what you’ll tell the next woman you find?”

  “Little girl, don’t push your luck tonight! What don’t you understand about the premise that you belong to me?”

  “Well, maybe it’s because I don’t!” I slam my hands against his chest and he doesn’t respond—not initially.

  His eyes n
arrow and the muscle along his jaw flexes angrily. “Now see, that’s a lie, darling.” He drops the northern tinge to his voice and his words drip with the honeyed twang of sexy rolled Georgia syllables. I feel the heat of him and he leans forward, his breath caressing my face, neck, and chest in sharp, hot puffs of air.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “You are and you do it all the time by denying what you feel...what you want. Tell me you don’t want me inside you right this second.”

  I shake my head, but he’s right. I’m lying. I’m hot and bothered, and hungry for him. He’s asking and all I have to do is admit. All I have to do is cave. All I have to do is leap. No one is holding me back, if I follow my heart.

  “You know I do. Please.”

  “Please what?” he retorts roughly against my cheek. “You want this? How much? I understand you’re concerned about the risk. So am I, but fuck! You’re worth it!”

  He moves, delivering a full body press of him into me. We fit and feel delicious, melding together. I catch my lip between my teeth to suppress the moan, gliding over my tongue. His commanding body, blanketing me is too hard to deny. Nothing compares. Together we may be a mistake—but it’d be worse if I walked away. Just tell him!

  I look up into his smoky eyes—his galvanizing gaze that I first noticed and don’t want to hide from or escape.

  “Yes,” I assure him. “I do.”

  “Tonight, I’m going to be unrelenting where you’re concerned.” Leaning closer, he lowers his face and inhales along my temple. “Baby, I’m going to consume you. All of you.”

  “Greedy?”

  “Where you’re concerned?” A smile tugs at his lips even though he rolls his intense eyes. “Affirmative!”

  I laugh as we look at each other. “Just so you know, I’m feeling greedy too,” I reply, holding his silk tie in my hand.