Page 156 of Pandora's Pleasure

“That’s what we all want, right?”

“With a caveat,” I ground out.

He gave me a reluctant nod; this was as shitty as it got. The fact they’d sent him was cruel to both of us.

I threw my drink back. “Should I decide my relationship is over, my father’s team will be the first to know.”

“That’s your answer?” He looked uncomfortable, no doubt dreading having to deliver such bad news.

“Andlet them know I won’t be blackmailed with my own project.”

“I’ll tell your dad you need more time.”

“Tell him the truth, Theo.” I gestured to the barman for another Macallan.

“Right.” He tucked his phone into his pocket. “Now I feel like crap.”

“Why? Because you and I are best friends?”

“I’ve always been your wingman.”

“And I yours.” I slapped his back affectionately. “It’s because of you we’ve come this far, Theo. Just in case no one ever tells you, thank you for all you’ve done. You’re a good man.”

“I don’t feel like it.” Theo walked away, navigating the crowd to find wherever the team had hunkered down in this big hotel, scheming and making plans that seemed to always benefit everyone else.

In four days, my father could very well be announced as the next President of the United States. The polls were looking too favorable to deny the possibility of him sitting in the Oval Office by early next year. The Godmans were about to step into history and leave a mark so indelible I’d have a book to add to my history collection aboutus.

The Godmans’ speeding train had left the station and there was no getting off. On Tuesday, the polls would open, and our family would gather to watch the number of votes coming in, right alongside the American people. Soon after, the calls would pour in from leaders around the globe congratulating my dad and welcoming him to the world stage.

I’d worked tirelessly right alongside everyone else on my father’s staff. I knew the privilege of this position—excitement should be the resounding emotion rushing through my veins. Yet all I could think of washer.

Another sip of Macallan did nothing to soothe my emotions.

Oh, hell no.

Helen King was making a beeline for the bar.

I spun around and gestured to the barman for a glass of water. I wasn’t in the mood to talk with the bitch. She’d already ruined my year. Though when the hairs on the back of my neck prickled, I knew she was behind me.

“Damien,” Helen said, determined to grab my attention.

With my back to her, I tried to erase the grimace on my face. It took a few seconds to school my features into a mask of friendliness.

I pivoted to face her. “Hello, Helen.”

“How are you?”

“Fucking fabulous.” I tried to smile but it crashed and burned on landing. “You?”

Her fingers seemed to be gripping her glass a little too tightly. “I’m totally fine.”

That statement made me wonder what other devastation she was about to unleash. Or maybe she was just here to flaunt her betrayal.

She smiled weakly. “Damien, I want to apologize for slowing down the construction on your building.”

Wait…she’s admitting it?

“You can be reassured it will resume first thing tomorrow.”