Page 10 of Pandora's Pleasure
My father studied her carefully. “You never leave an event without your fiancé by your side. Appearances are everything. If you have a grievance, you discuss it later with him in private. Understand?”
Beads of sweat spotted her brow. “I won’t disappoint you again, sir.”
“You are Damien’s property, Pandora.” He shrugged with the ease of a man who expected as much from his own wife. “You do as he says.”
“She understands,” I said quietly.
Dad gave a nod of approval. “Let’s go spread some rumors, Brenan. Let them know you’re my first choice for Foreign Secretary.”
Brenan gave a sigh of relief. His political career was still on track…for now.
I stepped forward and shook Brenan’s hand. “Congratulations, Mr. Bardot. You must be thrilled.”
“I’m overjoyed with this opportunity to serve your father,” he said. “And the country.”
My father approached me. “Damien, correct her behavior whenever necessary. She’ll eventually learn the complexities of politics. Make me proud.”
His approval meant so much. I’d always admired him for what he’d achieved, but what he stood to accomplish was remarkable. My father was a historical figure in the making.
I felt a fevered rush of anticipation at the thought of flying Pandora off to Seascape later, my body responding to the idea of us finally having the privacy we needed. I was like an addict craving his forbidden fix.
Finally, she’d become more to me.
If I could just learn to tolerate her cultivated snobbery.
Brenan followed my father out of the room without even acknowledging his daughter’s discomfort or throwing her a look of reassurance. Her own mother would be harsher, a fact that almost made me feel sorry for the brat.
What had set her family apart from the other contenders for a place in my father’s kingdom washer.
A female icon in the making.
If she ever realized the power she had over us all, she’d be dangerous.
The Sikorsky helicopter set down on the helipad.
From the air, I’d admired the impressive house perched on a cliff above the ocean—the place we’d be staying for the entire weekend. We were in the middle of nowhere, and I was glad I no longer had to mingle with a room full of strangers obsessed with politics.
Before opening the aircraft’s door, Damien shrugged out of his black jacket and placed it over my shoulders, his heady masculine cologne wafting just enough to remind me why I’d fallen for him. His chivalry gave me hope for the rest of the evening. Maybe here, away from the stresses of Washington, he’d relax.
He helped me climb down from the helicopter and once we’d escaped the heated blast of air from the chopper blades, Damien accepted the two suitcases—one of them I recognized as mine—pulled out of the side panel by the pilot. My mom must have directed a member of our staff to pack mine.
With a nod of thanks, Damien strolled confidently toward the cliff-top home carrying the suitcases, all alpha swagger and boldness. From behind me I heard the sound of blades cutting through the air as the helicopter ascended back over the water.
Into Satan’s home it is, then.
He left the suitcases in the foyer. I followed him farther into the home, trying to become acclimated to my new surroundings.
Damien turned as though sensing my gaze on his back. He gave me a devilish grin in response to my wariness. Or maybe he was glad to show me his secret hideaway.
We stepped into the open plan sitting room and I admired the spectacular view of the endless ocean. I wondered if we could walk along the beach in the morning. The expanse offered one the optical illusion of a house floating on water, the sky a blanket of dusky clouds shading the horizon.
I knew what would soon be expected of me, but I still couldn’t get there in my head.
I tore my eyes from the mesmerizing view and went off to find Damien, noticing the home’s artwork was all modern, and none of it appealing. If the art reflected the owner’s personality, Damien had serious issues, though I’d already sensed this.
He was busy in the kitchen. I watched as he pulled a bottle of chilled champagne out of the chrome fridge and then searched the cupboards, finding two flutes. He placed the glasses on the marble central island.
“I’m not allowed,” I said.
