“I’m twenty.”
“You look younger.”
I lowered my gaze. “I’m hoping for some pointers.”
“You make Damien sound like a conundrum.”
“That’s because he is.”
She smiled. “I signed a non-disclosure agreement when we began dating. Didn’t you?”
“No.”
Her expression told me she hadn’t expected that answer. “Well, that’ll come about soon enough. Unless…”
“Unless?”
“The rumors are true?”
“What rumors?”
“I still have friends in Washington.”
“We’re still together if that’s what you mean.” I hoped the lie sounded convincing.
She glanced at her wristwatch, hinting that I was eating away her time.
“He still loves you, Madeline.”
An eyebrow rose as she mulled that over, and then I saw the expression in her eyes soften with affection. It was the kind of reaction seen in those still in love.
“Are you still in contact?” I sensed they were.
“By phone, mostly.”
I decided to ask the question I wasn’t certain I wanted an answer to. “Why aren’t you still together?”
“People grow apart.”
“But…you’re everything he wants in a woman.”
She pushed up from the chair. “I’m flattered you think that.”
I’d offended her, and she was kicking me out.
My shoulders slumped in defeat. “I’m trying to understand him. Trying to make this work.”
“We don’t need a non-disclosure agreement. You and me, we are quite capable of respecting each other’s privacy.”
I gave a subtle nod of agreement.
“You want me to help fix your relationship with Damien, but your failure was inevitable. If that makes you feel any better.”
I set the glass of Coke on her desk and stood, my chair squealing on the hardwood floor as I pushed up. “I’m sorry I wasted your time.”
“It’s been a delight.”
I frowned. “You’re making fun of me.”
“You’re a toy. Power’s plaything. Manufactured in a private school abroad and forged for public life.”
I wanted to walk away, hating the fact she had the upper hand by knowing all about my background. I wasn’t in a position to defend myself.
She stared at me thoughtfully. “Or, Ms. Bardot, you could be more…”
My future was tenuous, but she wouldn’t know that.
Soon, like the rest of the world, she would know about my father’s scandal—unless I found a way to reach Damien and convince him to make it go away.
Damien blocking my texts felt like the ultimate ghosting. A week had gone by and I’d not heard a word from him, which was why I’d believed visiting Rhodes for advice had been a good idea.
Now, not so much.
Heading for the door, I cursed myself for going to all this trouble. Rhodes didn’t care about me. I’d been a brief amusement between lectures.
She leaned forward over the desk, her cleavage showing thanks to her low-cut red blouse. “Are you good with secrets?”
I turned around. “Yes.”
“How far are you willing to go?”
“In what respect?”
“Damien has…unusual desires. Surely you’ve noticed by now?”
I assumed Madeline was talking about the fact he had a thing for bondage.
She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out a velvet box, placing it on top of the desk with reverence. “You must never tell him where you got it. Promise?”
The box was too big for an engagement ring and too small for a bracelet or a choker. My imagination went into overdrive.
I walked over to her desk and picked up the box, holding it gingerly in my palm.
“What is it?”
“A gift. Or a curse, depending on how you look at it. Because it’s not meant for girls like you.”
I wondered if I should be insulted.
“Or…perhaps you’re different.” She smiled.
I suddenly had a memory of what the silken ties had felt like—the sensations of pleasure and pain, of writhing to escape and yet never wanting to.
“Pandora, the woman who wears this will get anything she wants.”
I smirked. “Are these nuclear codes?”
She glanced at the box in my hand. “What’s inside there is a whole lot more explosive.”
“Did he give this to you?”
“Not exactly.”
“How come you have it?”
“You’re wrong. I’m not his type. But you are.”
I didn’t know how to respond to that assertion, and I still wasn’t sure what was in the box.
She looked at me intently. “Has he ever mentioned Vanguard?”
“No.” I gave a casual shrug to hide my embarrassment.
She gestured towards the box. “That grants permission. Wear that, and—”
“Permission to do what?” The question carried with it the naivety I was trying to hide.
“For him to do anything to you he wants to do.”
My heart rate took off at a thousand beats a second. Finally, I remembered to breathe.
Give it back.
Forget you ever came here.
Her flowery perfume hung heavy around me, stirring memories of that loft…of that secret hour in an oceanside home far from anywhere—my breasts swelling, nipples beading, my entire body thrumming with desire.
Damien’s fingertip causing my clit to throb until the pleasure was blinding.
“Pandora?” Madeline pulled me from my daydreaming.
I set the box down on the desk and slid it back toward her. “I appreciate your time, Dr. Rhodes. Really, I do.”
I hated Damien…hated him for making me miss him like this—my body needy for his touch.
I wasn’t here for me, though.
“I don’t want it.” I gestured to the box.
“Are you sure?” Her sensual curves were a stark reminder that Damien had enjoyed numerous lovers before me—all of them probably just like her. How could I ever compete against women this sophisticated?
You’re his type.
She’d told me that, at least. Trying to read the truth in her eyes, I wondered if there was any honesty in her words.
“I don’t think he’s really capable of true love,” I mused. “I know he felt a great deal for you. What I mean is, he’s—”
“A complicated man.”
I nodded and then said, “I was never here.”
She gave me a smile. “Our conversation will stay between us.”
It was best I never knew what lay inside that box.
Seeing me stare at it, she nudged the box closer to me, offering it one final time.
“Why hasn’t he come over?” Dad muttered beneath his breath.
Mom squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.
“Damien’s busy talking with his father’s supporters,” I said, trying to defend him.
I turned in my seat so I didn’t have to watch Damien work the room—while ignoring me.
I feigned indifference, as though his behavior was perfectly acceptable, and focused on the central table display of red roses erupting out of a glass vase, their thorns calling my name.