by Raine Miller
"It's time to let go of what happened in the past, James. It's done. Move on to the new."
Let go of what happened in the past?
My jaw twitched involuntarily, probably from how hard I was gritting my teeth. I had moved on to the new, as he put it. What the fuck did he think that was five years ago when I severed ties with this law firm and started my own? James R. Blakney & Associates, P.C. was something pretty fucking new. I shrugged and shook my head slowly. "So, what…you're running for public office now?"
"I've been approached by the party, yes." He unclasped his hands and placed both palms onto his desk. "I will accept their invitation to throw my hat into the proverbial ring. I have every intention of representing Massachusetts in the US Senate one year from now."
Of course you do.
I figured this day would come. My father's ego most definitely predestined a political career at some point. "Congratulations," I managed to ground out.
"The senate is just the first step in the overarching plan though."
"Overarching plan?" I loathed when he spoke in riddles like he was now. So arrogantly smug in his passive aggressiveness, it grated on my already stretched patience.
"Yes. The senate campaign announcement will come early February when everyone is breathing a collective sigh of relief the presidential race debacle has finally been put to bed. They'll use it to deflect some of the negative into a positive. Two years isn't a horribly long time to have to wait for a candidate they can really get behind and safely propel into the White House."
Whoa. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? "You're serious."
"Deadly serious."
"You're going to run for President of the United States." I didn't pose it as a question. I blinked at him, hoping to wake up from a really bad fucking dream—unable to accept the idea—grasping at straws of denial instead. "But aren't you getting ahead of things? The White House is a long way from a judgeship on the First Circuit."
He stone-faced me, taking me straight back to when I was a kid and about to get served my punishment for some irrationally perceived infraction. I had a lot of those moments in my childhood to draw from. A flicker of fear crept inside my heart.
"I-I m-mean, you have to win the senate seat before you can declare a run for President in two years." I wanted to cut out my tongue for stammering and showing weakness in front of him.
"The senate race is already done. All I need to make it stick is the cooperation of my beloved family." His lip curled up on one side in a definite sign of distaste as he spoke the last word. Jesus Christ, he must hate us all.
"How so?" I wouldn't have anything to do with his campaign. No fucking way. I held my palms up. "This has nothing to do with me. Your campaign is yours…as in, not mine."
"Oh, but it is in a way, son. You'll have to do your part to help present the right image to the voting public. Every aspect of our lives will be scrutinized. Every predilection…" He folded his hands and focused his dark eyes on mine, finally getting to the crux of the issue.
"Even I can't change who I am...Dad. You might think you can clean me up for your precious campaign, but you can't. You are responsible for my transformation, after all."
Maybe he was responsible.
But maybe not.
The darkness had always been there for as long as I could remember, just not acted on until rather recently. Now? I needed it to survive. The control was essential for me. That my father had knowledge of my sexual proclivities was a far worse burden to bear on my part. That I liked to tie up women and spank them while fucking was going to be his.
"Don't be so dramatic. It's a simple solution. Your sister is already on the right path. She understands her duty to her family. The only loose end is you." He did the lip curl again. "You will also do your duty to this family, and you will do it quickly."
I shook my head at him. Denying what I knew he was asking of me. "I'm not hearing this."
"You are hearing this. I can't run a campaign for the highest office in the land with a thirty-something son unmarried and frequenting an underground sex club. Discreet you may be, but this upcoming level of scrutiny isn't what you've ever experienced. I might be able to get the past whitewashed somewhat, but my powers aren't infinite here. A pretty wife and young family will do a much more convincing job than a cover-up could ever manage. The Internet makes things goddamn complicated for all of us."
Ain't that the fuckin' truth.
"Married doesn't work for me. I mean, just look at what happened the last time I tried to put a ring on it. You orchestrated that catastrophe like a pro, I might add."
"Ancient history, James," he said with a dismissive wave of a hand.
Ancient history, perhaps to him.
"Knowing my own father arranged for my almost marriage to disintegrate at the fucking altar in front of a full church of wedding guests still grates."
"She wasn't the right wife for you…obviously, and beneath this family. Can you deny you're not better off without her now?"
That last part stung like a bitch because he was right on that one point. I was better off without Leah in my life. But even worse was knowing how I'd been played by the people who shouldn't have dreamed of playing me. At the time, it had been beneficial for Leah to leave.
Beneficial for him…and for Ted Robinson.
My father cared only about himself, and that wouldn't change until he took his last breath on this earth. Rage got the upper hand over my self-control and I jumped up from the chair. "Why do you feel entitled to dictate the who and the when I should marry?"
He shrugged. "Because I can, and because it behooves me to have both of my children happily settled with families of their own. Family values will be the impetus of my campaign. Family. Values." His frustration was beginning to show. "You are going to get some."
Happily married, my ass. He wouldn't even know what that is. "And how do you suggest I do this?"
He made a sound of disgust. "Do I really have to spell this out for you, son?"
"Since it's me you're asking to do this? Yeah, you do, Dad."
He settled back into the luxurious leather. "Marry a girl from a good family and get her pregnant. I am assuming you can figure that part of it—" He paused, his expression changing to one of interest. "Or get her pregnant first, and then marry her."
"I'm not doing any of—"
"In fact, a surprise pregnancy might work even better to endorse our support of traditional values with a thoroughly modern interpretation." He tapped his lips with an index finger and looked genuinely pleased for the first time since I'd entered his office.
"Have you lost your mind? I'm not getting a girl pregnant to benefit your fucking political ambitions."
"Careful now," he warned. "You will do exactly as I've outlined. And you will settle down and get to work on creating the picture-perfect family I need standing in support of the legacy I am building. It's not like I'm asking you to do anything you wouldn't do eventually, James. People grow up and get married. They have children. It's the only reason marriage exists. Why are you struggling with this?"
I had to fight off the urge to shudder out my revulsion. Of course he'd see the notion of marriage for reproduction only. It certainly wasn't there for love. The thought of standing on a podium somewhere forced to cheer on my father in support was just too much to have to stomach this early in the day. "Fuck you," I mumbled under my breath, hating that I didn't have the guts to spit it in his egotistical face.
"You will not fuck this up for me, James."
"What if I don't find someone?"
"I suggest you do if you want to be involved with the choice. If you can't manage to find a suitable bride on your own, then one will be found for you. A suitable bride, James. Not one of the whores from the club. Wealth is not as important as an upstanding family background for showing we can relate to solid middle class—"
"Just listen to yourself," I said disgustedly. "How in the hell do you—"
"So you're just taking over my life to serve yourself?" I could hardly wrap my head around this conversation.
"You're thinking too hard, and I am weary of this conversation. I expect some forward movement on this issue by Thanksgiving. Your mother so looks forward to having her children home for the day."
Yeah, and she's the sole reason we go. "That's only three weeks from now."
"Bring your prospective bride to meet us so we can get to know this new daughter who will be mother to my future grandchildren." The smile he gave looked a bit maniacal. "Children, who will enjoy the honor and privilege of visiting their grandfather in the Oval Office someday."
Please, God, don't ever let that happen.
He then returned his attention to whatever document was in front of him and acted as if I wasn't in the room. My father had finished with me for the moment, so I was effectively dismissed.
I didn't remember leaving his office, but once I felt the warmth of the autumn sun seeping through the clouds, I knew I'd made it out somehow.
The fuck did my father think he could control my life in this way?
I stood among the foot traffic moving in both directions around me, and I felt…chilled. Cold with fear and worry. Cold like a winter fury.
Cold like winter.
Winter.
From the moment my father started dictating his sordid plans for me, I knew who I wanted. There was only one person. The only girl it could ever be for me—even though it would be something close to immoral for me to bring her into the shitfuckery that was my life.
It would be wrong…but it would feel so right.
Because Winter Blackstone was my kryptonite. This I knew. One small slip of indulging in my desires to be closer and there would be no turning back. With my father's edict burning a hole in my heart, I was being handed a reason to go there with her.
But I can't.
I was fucked and I knew it. I knew myself, and I knew how hard the struggle would be in resisting the temptation of her. For me, the allure of Winter Blackstone was something with which I was well familiar. Her unaffected beauty, her kind and generous heart, her gentle way of listening and knowing the right thing to say in any situation, made her approachable and easy for people to love.
Love?
Did I love her?
Of course I did. I'd known her since she was a toddler, and she'd become a dear and trusted friend. But, if I was honest…Winter was much more than that for me, and she had been for a long time. She possessed every quality I could want in a wife. In terms of promoting my father's political campaign, she couldn't be more perfect. YOUNG HEIRESS CHOOSES SOCIAL WORK OVER HIGH SOCIETY. The news agencies would eat her up and crown her their darling overnight. Yes, I loved Winter Blackstone, but loving someone and being in love with them were not one in the same. I couldn't say the latter was definitively true. Honestly, I wasn't sure if being in love was something I was even capable of.
You're still fucked because she's off limits.
This was my truth. Because I could never be with Winter the way I wanted to be. I could never have her. Not how I'd dreamed of having her when my innermost fantasies took over within my twisted headspace.
Winter was too good.
She was too sweet.
She was just too perfectly innocent…for the likes of me.
Chapter Two
JAMES
When the number eleven button lit up inside the elevator, my heart sped up. Winter's apartment was on the eleventh floor.
Directly under me.
Now, isn't that a beautiful picture? I tried to block the image of her spread out underneath me while I took my time fucking us both into oblivion.
I'd spent the last six months in torture, because she lived mere feet away from me. Caleb owned the building and could lease an apartment to anyone he chose. So, when Winter wanted to be out on her own, her brother eagerly made it happen. It made sense for siblings to stay close by when they'd just recently lost their father to cancer. I understood perfectly the reasoning behind Winter living here. I just agonized at the reality every time I imagined her naked in the shower or sleeping in her bed. Because I didn't just want to imagine her that way. I wanted to be right there with her. Naked. In bed.
How would I face her the next time I saw her? When all I'd be capable of seeing was the woman I craved above all others, it was a given I'd do or say something moronic, making us both uncomfortable. I was like a teenager around her as it was now. Getting hard at the sight of her—blurting out invitations to have dinner with me—being a fucking idiot. The familiar tightening of my dick reminded me that I could manage an erection just by thinking about her. I'd nearly outed myself a few weeks ago when our foursome for dinner ended up being just the two of us. How I kept from kissing her I would never know.
Fuck. Me. Forever.
Despite my father's directive, I couldn't entertain the idea of Winter in any capacity beyond a close friendship. Her brothers would probably put a hit out on me if I went there with her.
For very different reasons.
Caleb would freak that I was perving on his little sis, and Lucas would know precisely what perversions I wanted with his little sis. She had a third brother, but Wyatt wasn't around enough to be much of a concern.
But Lucas Blackstone knew what I was.
He knew, because he was one too.
Four years back, he'd showed up at Lurid as a new member. The cat was out of the bag for both of us, and marked the end of our anonymity as purveyors of kink. Lucas knew, but his older brother and my best friend, Caleb, did not. There was a hard and fast rule of keeping your mouth shut about other members. And so, as was expected of us, Lucas and I left our secrets right at Lurid where they belonged. I'd still lay odds he'd have a major problem with me touching his little sister though. Sisters were in the no-go zone.
I had a little sister, too. I understood exactly. Victoria was nine years younger than me, and she was getting married next summer. My parents were thrilled for my sister and her fiancé, Clay, and if my father had been a normal person, the pressure to produce grandchildren would've been off me completely. But no, we couldn't possibly have normal where he was concerned. He had to set his sights on the motherfucking White House.
Dear God, please let me be asleep right now and in the middle of a nightmare.
As I made my way into my twelfth-floor apartment, I headed straight for my closet to undress. Two workouts were on my agenda for the night. First, my home gym would have my attention while I pounded out some of the physical stress until my body told me I'd had enough.
Then, I'd make my way to Lurid for an evening workout of a different nature. I'd satisfy that darkness of spirit inside me that fed my emotional soul. It was the only way I could exorcise my demons where Winter was concerned.
The only way.
Despite the punishing workout, my dick was still hard two hours later. The hot water and soap sluicing over my body did a good job of washing away the sweat easily enough. I wish it was as easy to wash away my filthy thoughts about Winter. Pretty much impossible now with my father's demands slung around my neck like an anchor. I closed my eyes, but all I could see was her beautiful face smiling at me in that quiet way she had perfected. So fucking sexy how she looked at me. And so undeserving.
I had, on more than one occasion, wondered if she felt anything similar for me. But I really didn't know. As much as I would have loved it, I knew I couldn't risk finding out. It would be cruel...for both of us.
Because I knew some of what happened to her last year. I only knew because Caleb had asked me to prepare the restraining order on her ex—a miserable excuse for a human who deserved far worse than what he'd got. Christopher Shelton was pond scum. He'd abused Winter. So, he was lucky to be breathing after what he'd done, in my opinio
n.
When JW Blackstone had been in the final months of his life, Shelton thought he'd secure himself an heiress the simple way—by marriage. According to Caleb, Shelton became very controlling of Winter in the time leading up to her dad's death, dropping hints that they were about to be engaged, while at the same time far too inquisitive about the terms of her father's will. He even approached me at one point for details, because he knew I would be handling the probate when the time came. I told him to back off. And when the whisperings of Shelton's "plan" to marry into Blackstone wealth via Winter made its way back to her? She dumped his fortune-hunting ass and sent him packing.
She broke up with him, and that should have been the end of it. But Shelton grossly overstepped himself, abducting Winter from her father's funeral under the guise of getting her out of town for a few days to process her great loss. He did it at a time when the whole family was deeply grieving and understandably distracted. Caleb told me Shelton took her to his parents' cabin in Vermont where he kept her drugged on Ambien for days on end, doing God knows what to coerce her into marrying him. He was too dumb and too greedy to avoid getting caught though. Once her family realized she was missing, running a check on Winter's Amex was all it took to find her. Shelton had been using her credit card to pay for his wife-acquisition adventure. The cocksucker had no brains whatsoever. Caleb gave him a choice: leave Massachusetts and don't ever come back, or face kidnapping charges. Shelton left the state.
Good fucking riddance.
But Shelton certainly left a lot of shit in his wake. I didn't know how much the incident had affected Winter. Was she afraid of intimacy now? Had he hurt her sexually or just emotionally? They had been in a relationship at one time, so I assumed it extended to fucking. Not a pleasant thought to dwell on, but it was there. I didn't know the answers, and I wouldn't ask Caleb. I wasn't sure if he even knew those details. It was the kind of thing you didn't talk about openly unless the person involved brought it up. Winter never had. And I worried how much he had broken her.