Page 54 of Power Games

Normally, he just exuded a ‘fuck off’ vibe, like any good bodyguard. Today, he'd replaced it with the disappointed stare of a big brother watching his favorite girl play with fire. She was good at ignoring the shoulder sags, long sighs, and pursed lips from him. If he had his way, she would just concentrate on her career and never see, or do, anything for fun. He didn't approve of Kaia or Rob either. The only trips he really seemed happy about were to the studio, and to her family.

"Cheer up, though. We're going home."

He watched her in the rearview mirror, genuinely surprised. "To your father's?"

"That'd be it."

Matt smiled. So predictable.

She really wished she could have gone to the Hay-Adams, or any other hotel for that matter, but it didn't serve her purpose. If she stayed in the same hotel as Charles, no amount of good press would change the fact that she'd be seen as a cold-hearted hoe who'd jump on a widower before his wife was even buried.

Which, incidentally, happened to be exactly what she was, apparently. She closed her eyes and took a few calming breaths. What the hell had happened in the office? She bit her lips, knowing they couldn't do it again. Not for a long time. He'd been right, they had to get to know each other, touch each other, so as to avoid looking like fumbling teenagers in public, but there was a line. They'd crossed it today.

"You don't have to be that obviously happy about it," she told Matt, pouting.

At least one of them was looking forward to a few weeks in the McNamara residence.

The bodyguard shook with laughter. "What can I say? Theodore has a room for me ready at all times, and I get fed the best food for free." He shrugged. "I'm a simple man."

Her father did treat his employees very well, that was true. Vanessa had learned from him in that regard: wherever she stayed, she paid for Matt to be housed nearby. She'd even bought a condo close to hers just for the driver. But unlike her father, she didn't house Matt under her roof. At the end of the day, she was a woman, and he wasn't. Her security system was triggered whenever a bird flew close by, and he just had a three-minute walk to get on the scene. That was safe enough.

"We're here, ma'am."

"Ma'am, is it?"

She wasn't one for stuffiness.

The bodyguard smiled. "It is around your father and brother."

Vanessa had called to ask if she could stay with her parents the previous evening; a formality. She knew her room was always ready for her. Theodore had sounded particularly jovial over the phone, and no wonder.

For the last six years, every time he'd seen her, her father had repeated that she was wasted as a singer. That she'd been meant for more. That she should come back and serve her country like the rest of their family. One of the many reasons why she didn't visit often. Each time, she'd ignored him. Now, he was getting exactly what he'd wanted. Or almost.

There was no denying that Theodore would have preferred if Vanessa was returning to the fold of their family, and supporting their party, their legacy. But he wanted her in politics; that was more important than little pesky details such as whom she was supporting. He wanted to have another child making a difference in the world; his hubris demanded recognition. Notoriety.

Theodore was the kind of man who would start a war to ensure his name made it into the history books. Thankfully, he'd been elected in the middle of a tumultuous time, so instead, he'd ended one. There was no denying that Vanessa was his daughter, just like Tristan was his son. Neither of them could have been satisfied with a regular career behind a desk, outside of the public eye. Being raised by a president meant that none of their achievements mattered. They won a science fair? How cute. Their father had been elected president. She finished high school two years early? Adorable, for a president's daughter. He graduated cum laude? As expected, from the son of Theodore McNamara.

Vanessa knew that staying on their path, finishing law school, joining the family firm, would mean never making a name for herself, and she'd needed that. So she'd walked away and created her own vision of success. Her accomplishments were hers now. Theodore had zero artistic talent, couldn't sing or play an instrument to save his life. Her mother had been a singer, but she'd never so much as written one song, sticking to pop covers at whatever clubs would have her. Her career was hers.

Tristan had gone the opposite way, following Theodore's footsteps, and now it was entirely expected that he run for president. Vanessa sometimes wondered if he actually wanted to. It didn't matter. He had to. Theodore approved, thoroughly, maybe because he knew that following his footsteps meant that his son would never surpass him.

And now Vanessa was once again right in the middle of a budding campaign. Charles'. Theodore might just kiss the guy for that someday.

"Father," she said when he came to greet her at the doors. "You're home early."

"I stayed here today," he announced proudly. "I'm not going to miss my favorite daughter's return, now, am I?"

He kissed both her cheeks and embraced her, before stepping aside to face Matt.

"Matthew. Thanks for taking care of her."

She had to roll her eyes. "You know I pay him for that, right?"

He made it sound like the bodyguard trailed her out of the goodness of his heart.

The two men ignored her. "You know where your room is. My security detail will watch Nessie inside the house. Feel free to lay low unless she gets out."

She could have said, "Wait, don't I decide that?" but she kept her mouth shut, because there was no point in making Matt work when there were a dozen guards around the place at all times anyway.

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