Page 109 of Pandora's Pleasure

I swallowed hard and pointed to the dinner settings. “Who’s coming?”

“You and I weren’t alone, even if we wanted to pretend we were. There were secret service agents working around the clock protecting us.”

“You invited them to dinner?”

“Yes, this is how we thank them—preparing a home-cooked dinner to show our gratitude.”

“Have you done this before?”

“It’s what my family’s always done. Yours don’t?”

“We give bonuses.” It came out wrong. “Unless they’re paid by the government.”

“Never forget what we do.” He pressed a fingertip to my chest. “We’re here to serve.”

Hugging him, I tried to fathom how I’d gotten this man so wrong. That time I’d been in his oceanside home, I’d seen a vicious man who was hell-bent on ruining my life, and now he was acting like some kind of gentleman.

A knock sounded at the door.

“Ask them what they want to drink. Two of them are still on duty so they’ll decline alcohol. Help me make them feel welcome.” He pointed a finger at me. “You can’t drink in front of them. It’s illegal in Florida.”

“Sneak in a sip?”

“No.” He grinned. “Not until they’ve gone.”

“What will we talk about?”

He looked surprised. “Them. We make this about them. Because it is.”

This was spontaneity; the ability to mingle with whomever I wanted. The normalcy I’d chased after.

With a wide grin, I headed for the door, opening it to be greeted by the warm smiles of the men, and one woman, who had protected us all this time.

I welcomed them in.

The only person I wanted to see washer.

I searched the faces of the guests at this prestigious cocktail party, the burning sensation in my throat from this glass of Macallan doing nothing to distract me from thinking of the woman I wanted in my sights.

I’d missed her.

I’d gone four days without seeing her. How was it Friday already?

She’d be here soon. I wouldn’t have to endure this black-tie event alone. Having all these people in my dad’s home was stifling, even though the place was vast. I’d never been one for all this luxury; the lavish furnishings and parquet floors, the staff with endless drinks being offered to loosen tongues.

My fingers dug beneath my bowtie. It was hard to tolerate this stifling tuxedo after the casual T-shirts and shorts I wore during our brief escape to Florida.

We’d returned to Washington on Monday to the bleakness of the city…to the intensity of all that waited. With tensions flying high and tempers frayed from the chaos of the campaign, men had been broken by less. A billion dollars had been pumped into this endeavor and human lives were at stake from the policies we hoped to implement.

Losing wasn’t an option.

I’d dived right in to join Dad’s staff, spending my days and nights here. Giving over my soul to help see his vision realized as he ran for office.

Pandora had remained at her parents’ place all week. The decision had been mine so she’d not feel lonely at my Foxhall house, since I’d not be able to visit.

I’d been working twenty-four hours a day—or so it felt.

We’d not seen each other since our return, only sharing a few cordial texts here and there. That was it.