Page 121 of Pandora's Pleasure
Finally, I drifted off to sleep in Damien’s arms.
When you find the perfect life, you naturally want it to last forever. I found that I was willing to do anything to keep Damien.
Even this…
It was the biggest risk I’d ever taken in my life, turning up unannounced at Salvatore Galante’s Granger Street office.
It had been a gamble thinking I could gain access to the Chairman and CEO’s top floor suite. His security was high because of the number of death threats he probably received. The AFN served as an extended arm of the party that couldn’t be trusted—or so my father insisted. “A propaganda machine”, he’d called it.
I imagine the fact I was here to see him wasn’t even passed on to Salvatore. Either that or he’d guessed I was going to beg him not to run that story on my father, and no doubt wanted to avoid the drama that would ensue from meeting with me.
I’d failed to get any farther than the receptionist’s desk in the ground floor lobby, ending up back in the car that had brought me here. Randolph, one of my parents’ drivers, threw wary glances my way from the front seat.
“I needed to speak with someone, but I was turned away,” I explained. “Thank you for being patient.”
“Of course, Ms. Bardot.” He gave a nod. “Can I help?”
It was risky, but I couldn’t see any other way. “I need to speak with Salvatore Galante.”
He looked surprise. “Did you make an appointment?”
“Not exactly. But as it’s me, I thought he’d be intrigued.”
“Does your father know you’re here?”
“I plead the Fifth.”
Randolph paused, studying my face. “Here’s a thought. We could drive to the 118 News Club on Third Street and wait for him to go in.” Randolph glanced at his watch. “We’ll arrive before him if we leave now.”
“How often does he eat there?”
“Every day, I believe. Your father eats there on occasion. I’ve driven Mr. Bardot to the club and seen Galante go in there, which means he’s also a member. I imagine that’s where he picks up a lot of political tips.”
“Okay, let’s try that,” I said. “Thank you, Randolph.”
Traffic was slow, but we made it to the club in less than thirty minutes. I knew what Galante looked like. Everyone in this town did—he and his three sons ruled the airwaves with their hateful rhetoric and twisted stories. They’d ruined reputations and left a trail of devastation. That kind of thing tends to make you stand out.
We parked next to the curb outside and waited for him to appear.
Popping in my earbuds, I tried to listen to music to make the time go faster…songs from Hozier to Adele to Billie Eilish.
My heart skipped a beat…
Galante’s car had parked behind ours and he was climbing out. The crowned head of news appeared just as tall and intimidating as he was on TV, looking ruggedly handsome in a white fox kind of way—if you were into evil, that is.
He was immediately flanked by two bodyguards.
Once out of the car, I headed in his direction, managing to catch up with him at the stone steps leading up to the 118 News Club.
“Mr. Galante!”
He looked my way, his glare taking me in. “Do I know you?”
“Kind of.” I stepped forward, wary of his guards who were poised to shove me back. “May we speak in private?”
“Make an appointment,” he snapped.
“Your secretary failed to pass on my message?”
