The tuxedo-clad man was already opening the office door. “Don’t keep the Senator waiting.”
Where was she going?
From the end of the hallway, I watched Pandora walk elegantly into his office.
Her deportment was born out of a fierce schooling at the Institut auf dem Rosenberg in St. Gallen. Sadly, a place where she’d spent most of her life. Studying in Switzerland had kept her far away from her parents. It made me wonder if all that loneliness was the cause of her flaws; she’d been overindulged in everything. Except love, I suppose.
She displayed a natural grace, but suffered from a terrible naivety. And goddamn was she beautiful.
I’d ordered her to proceed directly to the ballroom.
I made my way down the hallway to my father’s office.
The guard outside raised his hand to stop me. “Sorry, sir. I’ve been instructed by the Senator that no one is to interrupt his meeting.”
“Seriously?”
He gave a nod. “Miss Bardot’s father is in there, too.”
That information lessened the tension by a fraction.
“Your father has a meeting with Salvatore Galante in ten minutes,” the guard added, hinting they wouldn’t be long.
That’s right.
Dad had invited over the Chairman and CEO of Real Nation One TV, the gnarly television executive who’d built a network from the ground up. Half the population was addicted to his wily news stories that pumped vitriol and well-fluffed lies onto the airwaves. Keeping Galante waiting would be as bad as pissing on a wedding cake in full view of the guests. The repercussions would be endless.
Backing off, I put some distance between me and the door and waited for Pandora to come out.
This could have been prevented. My instructions had been clear. I’d tried to protect her from my family, only so far she’d done a stellar job of leaving herself exposed to all of them.
Her scent lingered in my imagination, fanning the flames of my arousal. My dick chastised me for not banging her against the wall. Agreeably a monstrous act but I’d been in a bad mood for over a decade and couldn’t shake my arrogance. This was what my family did…we took what we wanted whether we’d earned it or not.
Pandora was exceptionally pretty, but having a woman forced on you tends to dull your appetite for marriage.
Though I had agreed with my father on one thing—her family’s legacy was impressive. The Bardots had a prestigious ancestry that included old money and remarkable connections. Her father, Brenan Bardot, was an oil baron who’d come to Washington with political aspirations. He’d left his eldest son to run his empire in Texas so he could swagger around the city and take aim at the White House.
What pairs well with a billion-dollar oil empire? A dynasty of bankers. Our legacy had been forged from diverse investing and our knack for managing money—making millionaires into billionaires. Unlike the Bardots, we were only three generations away from when we had made our mark on this shitty world.
Before becoming a senator, my father had ruled the financial markets as a brilliant tycoon at the helm of our trillion-dollar company. He’d handed over his philanthropic endeavors for me to manage, which meant my life had a purpose, at least.
Dad had his eye on the ultimate prize for someone desirous of eternal prestige—President of the good ole’ US of A.
Both sets of parents, mine and Pandora’s, were set on forging a bloodline between our families. If we didn’t kill each other first. Our mutual hate went even deeper than Bardot’s offshore oilrigs that drilled into the ocean floor, fucking up everything in their wake.
I’d done what I could to prepare Pandora for tonight. I’d gone so far as to give her a list of guests so she could study their individual interests and engage in insightful conversations. I’d needed her to shine. Her usefulness stretched only that far.
Instead, she’d extracted herself from the function—and almost driven off in my car, for God’s sake.
She had to regret it now. This was my overriding thought as I gave the guard a stern warning and barged into my father’s office.
I chose to stand at the back of the room so I could watch the show continue to unfold. Two more security guards were positioned behind my father’s desk. Pandora’s father stood before the bookcase with his back ramrod straight and his arms folded. His cold expression could have put out a fire.
This meeting wasn’t about making Pandora feel safer—this was about threatening her with what might happen if she didn’t comply.
No one walked out on my father. The Senator had a knack for smelling blood in the water a world away, and he went in for the kill without blinking.
Even sharks blinked when they sliced you open.
Pandora sat in a chair in the middle of the room with her back to me. I didn’t need to see her face to know she felt intimidated. She seemed to have fixed her stare on my father, ignoring her own dad.
I imagined there was no love lost there. Who gives up their daughter for personal gain? Even Brenan’s social-climbing wife, who held her own level of influence in this town as well as in Texas, only wanted more.
Pandora turned and glanced back at me with a hopeful expression. I found it endearing, but now that she was in here there was nothing I could do for her.
My father had strategized and committed a number of questionable deeds to reach the dizzying height of frontrunner. Having a loose cannon like Pandora threaten his progress had left him riled, which was apparent from the way his jaw flexed with quiet rage.
He stood at his oak desk, immune to fear, his shock of white hair revealing his age. Senator Gregor Godman carried the air of a gentleman who knew his fate was to change history.
There was no doubt I was halfway to becoming the same kind of monster. My darkest traits mirrored his…I, too, craved having control over a room full of powerful men.
Only I could alter the course of the trouble heading Pandora’s way.
Besides her beauty and grace, Pandora’s youth and optimism were valuable assets. Her naivety was annoying, but it would allow her to be molded into the perfect trophy wife.
But right now she was a spoiled princess.
How dare she walk out on an event where she’d been the main attraction? She was the quintessential debutante—the Jackie Kennedy of our times. The woman who would ensure my father would win votes from the youngest generation. Her feminine elegance was the only thing lacking in our brand.
“Pandora,” my father’s tone sounded polite as he rested his palm on a closed file, “excuse our unusual brand of hospitality.”
She drew in a breath. “I was just getting some air—”
He shot me a glance and smiled. “We understand that what is being asked of you could be overwhelming. Trust me, I’ve been on the campaign trail for months and it’s a grueling schedule. You can’t even imagine the time and effort, and of course the billions of dollars, it took to get us here.”
“I respect that, sir.”
He lifted the file. “You’re quite accomplished.”
“That’s on me?” she asked, gesturing at the folder.
“This collection of records is impeccable, Pandora.” Dad offered her a kind smile. “Don’t make me add a negative addendum.”
Pandora turned to look at me, her crystal blue eyes begging for help. I saw her come to the stark realization that she was on her own. Her expression changed to one of resilience as she twisted around to face my father.