Power Desired (D.C. Power Games Book 1)

by Ivy Nelson

  Scanning the ballroom, she spotted Marlie, the host of tonight’s shindig. Her hands flew in all directions as she gave instructions to one of the event staff. Marlie was an attractive brunette in her mid-forties. She was well known in D.C. for her charity work and fundraising capabilities. The woman could charm a check out of anyone. When Marlie noticed Darci, she rushed toward her and wrapped her in a tight hug.

  “Darci! I'm so glad you came darling.”

  “I wouldn't miss it. You're raising awareness and money for a worthy cause. Sexual assault on college campuses needs more spotlight.”

  Darci had tried to talk Tessa into attending, but the girl had declined, saying she was still feeling raw from telling her story the other day. Darci didn’t blame her.

  “I’m so glad you came to the club last night.” Marlie said with a wink. Darci felt her face heat. This was not an appropriate place to discuss this. Marlie seemed to sense her discomfort. “Oh, I’m sorry darling that was terribly indiscreet of me, but honestly I do hope you’re back for good.”

  Darci smiled. “I needed time after Damion.” Marlie rubbed her shoulder.

  “Of course, dear. I’m glad you’re here. We wouldn’t have this big of a crowd if it weren’t for the ACSL. Thank your boss again for me.” She agreed she would, and Marlie excused herself to greet high-profile guests.

  Darci headed for the open bar. It was Friday, a few drinks wouldn't hurt. Halfway to the bar, she stopped when a couple entering caught her eye. He was tall and broad shouldered. What on earth is Bradley Givens doing here? He looked damn fine in a tuxedo. She was having trouble deciding if she preferred him in the jeans from last night or his current evening wear.

  • • •

  Bradley needed a drink. It had taken Peggy less than ten minutes to find champagne and a celebrity to giggle over. He brought her to these events to add to conversations with politician’s spouses, but sometimes she got too excited. The event was for a charitable cause though, so it was worth the seven hundred- and fifty-dollar tickets plus whatever they spent on the silent auction.

  Peggy came floating by, chasing someone it would seem, but he reached out and stopped her with a hand on her arm. She stopped frustrated at first, but her demeanor changed when she saw the look on his face. “Eyes on me for a minute please,” he said pulling her closer to him and out of the pathway.

  He smiled when she obliged him. “Don’t forget our arrangement,” he continued once he had her full attention. “Don’t drink too much and don’t embarrass me.” Peggy was a professional and ran a non-profit organization, but sometimes he needed to remind her of the experiment they were doing—a D/s relationship that wasn’t romantic. She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. “Excuse me?” he said with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yes, Sir,” she murmured. He smiled and kissed her cheek.

  “Good girl. You can go now. We’re leaving at midnight. Meet me at the coat check by then, or there will be consequences,” he said into her ear. It might have sounded like a threat, but there was a grin on his face and a wicked gleam in his eyes. The blonde giggled, and he felt, more than heard, her breath catch as she kissed his cheek before running off to socialize.

  Bradley sighed. He could have ordered her to spend the evening on his arm. That is why he brought her after all, but then she would have spent most of the night pouting. Not for the first time in recent weeks, he was fighting feelings of discontent with their arrangement. He would have to address that. Soon. They had been friends for years and only recently agreed to experiment with the dynamic of their relationship. He worried that if it didn’t work out the friendship would be ruined, and he didn’t want that. Lost in thought, he turned to find the bar and found himself staring down into familiar green eyes instead.

  “Mr. Givens,” Darci said, smiling up at him. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here tonight. You seem to be popping up in all kinds of unexpected places.”

  “I could say the same of you, Darci. I thought I asked you to call me Bradley,” he responded with a wink.

  “Fair enough, Bradley. Where’s your date?”

  “She’s star struck and chasing a celebrity if I had to guess,” he replied, not bothering to correct her about it not being a date. To the outside world that’s exactly what it looked like.

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “That would be lovely.”

  He turned toward a waiter carrying flutes of champagne and grabbed two.

  Handing her one he asked, “Will this do, or do you prefer whiskey?”

  She grinned, accepting the flute. “This will do just fine. Thanks for not running into me this time,” she said with a wink, bumping her hip playfully into his. He let out a laugh and sipped his own champagne.

  “What brings you here tonight?”

  “It’s a great cause, and my dear friend Marlie Dixon is the hostess. And you?”

  “Same, well, I can’t say I know Ms. Dixon well, but we share a social circle and I’m a fan of her organization.” He smiled, glad they had common ground. Bradley placed his hand on Darci's elbow and steered her to a nearby table. “Are you here with someone?” he asked, not sure why he wanted to know.

  “Not tonight. I'm here to support a friend and perhaps drum up opposition support for your boss’s bill.”

  “Now, now, let's not ruin a pleasant evening with shop talk Miss Sanders. Though my assistant is not happy I am entertaining the thought of letting you meet with Atleigh. You pissed her off when the two of you spoke on the phone.” He tried to look stern, but he couldn’t keep the corner of his mouth from turning upward when she grinned at him.

  “I wouldn’t be doing my job if I didn’t piss someone off. But you're right, tonight is about something bigger than politics.”

  When he asked her how long she’d been in D.C., it surprised him to learn she was a native. That was not a tidbit he’d picked up from reading her blog. Then again, her blog was definitely not a local blog. He had to work to keep the smirk off his face at that thought. The urge to talk to her about her blog and her involvement with Exposure was strong but he knew this wasn’t the right place for that.

  So instead, he asked, “How did you know my father is running for President?”

  She grinned, “So it is true. I didn’t know for sure. My assistant is dating someone who works for him and I heard a rumor.”

  “Well, he hasn’t announced yet, but he was waiting for me in my office Wednesday and gave me the news then.”

  Their conversation changed direction, and they talked about life in D.C. As they finished their champagne, Marlie took the stage to welcome everyone and thank those who helped make the event possible. She encouraged everyone to be generous in the silent auction and declared both the auction and the dance floor open. The band struck up a lively number

  “Would you care to dance Miss Sanders?”

  “What about your date?”

  “What about her? I'm sure she's wooed a football player or actor to share the first dance with her, and I can think of no one else I would rather share mine with than you.”

  It looked at first like she might object. Instead, she smiled and accepted his outstretched hand, and he led them to the dance floor. They danced three songs, and Bradley loved the way she fit in his arms. She was an excellent dance partner who let him lead. They laughed and shared light conversation about the music, fashion choices of the evening, and high school dance crazes.

  At the end of the third song, Darci excused herself, thanking him for a wonderful time. Even though he was sad to lose her company, he understood how important it was to see and be seen at these events. For a few minutes after she left, he watched her flit about the ballroom, enthralled with the way she lit up the room. He should do his own handshaking.

  Glancing around in search of someone to speak to, he spotted Peggy chatting with a senator’s wife. When he joined them, she played her role as companion and introduced him to the older woman. He shook her hand and encouraged them to ca
rry on their conversation, adding to it where he could.

  A few minutes later he excused himself when he spotted someone he wanted to speak with. He kissed Peggy on the cheek and reminded her they needed to leave at midnight. That was still two hours away though, so he had time to make contacts. He approached the bar and shook hands with a short, round gentleman who worked for another politician in his building. They exchanged pleasantries and Bradley went to work trying to forge connections with the senator from Texas.

  Throughout the rest of the night, he had a tough time keeping his eyes off a certain redhead as she made her rounds about the ballroom. He thought he caught her watching him a few times but told himself he imagined it, feeling guilty for his own gawking. At midnight, he stood near the coat check station checking his smart watch for the third time.

  “The redhead already left,” a voice behind him said. Bradley turned, confused. It was the attendant poking her head out from coat check.

  “I think you have me confused with someone else,” he told the girl as he checked his watch again. Ten minutes later, a very tipsy Peggy came rushing in. He scowled. “You’re late. Let’s go.” He stopped her when she tried to apologize. “We’ll discuss it in the car. Get your coat. Now please.”

  Peggy pouted and teetered to the desk to pick up her coat. Bradley thought about punishing the girl, but that meant staying up even later. He would deal with it another time.

  He was silent the entire trip to Peggy’s house. She chattered non-stop, seeming to have forgotten his displeasure over her being late. He kissed her dutifully on the cheek before she stepped out of the car and walked into her house.

  At home, he found himself browsing Darci’s blog and smiling at the memory of the dancing and conversation they had shared. Her blog told him she was open minded enough to be OK with his lifestyle choices, as did running into her at Exposure.

  The direction of his thoughts made him frown. It was time to talk to Peggy. He didn’t want to lose her friendship, but they had agreed to honest conversation if one or the other ever felt like the experiment was failing. Sure, she let him dominate her, but she was also naturally a bratty submissive and ultimately that just wasn’t his thing. Bradley scrubbed a hand over his face and closed his browser. He had a campaign to focus on.

  Chapter Six

  Saturday morning, Darci sat at the small desk in her home office scrolling through the morning headlines. A glass of diet soda was forming a water ring on the weathered wood. It was one of many. She sipped her drink while bookmarking articles and making notes for her blog. The glass, slick with condensation, slipped from her fingers as a familiar face appeared on her screen. In bold letters, the headline above the photo read, Local Charity Organizer Found Dead.

  It was Marlie Dixon. Shit. Darci had been with Marlie last night.

  “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Darci said out loud as she read the article. Marlie had been murdered. When she finished reading, she did a quick search and found five more articles about the murder. As she read, her eyes grew wide. This was even worse than she imagined. Two of the five articles referenced her involvement in S&M.

  How did the press know she was in the lifestyle? That wasn’t something she liked to broadcast. She was well known in the kink community as was Darci, but unlike her, Marlie didn’t share her adventures with the world. Most people thought Darci was crazy for writing such an open and honest blog about her sexual choices, but she felt it went hand in hand with fighting for sexual liberty. After staring at the screen for a few minutes, it dawned on Darci that sticky soda coated her lap and broken glass lay at her feet.

  It was difficult to comprehend that Marlie was dead. Darci was close to the woman, and they had worked on several fundraisers together in the past. They also frequented the same BDSM club. Now, Darci was sad that she had stayed away for a year just because of a breakup.

  As she cleaned up the broken glass and soda, she thought about her visit to Exposure the other night, and she was grateful she had decided to go. She was deeply saddened at the thought of never seeing the feisty brunette there again. The two women had said a final goodbye as they were collecting their coats at the end of the fundraiser last night. Tears spilled down her cheeks as Darci thought of how short that final conversation had been.

  After she had given herself a few minutes to cry, she dried her eyes and made a note to feature a memorial to Marlie on her blog. Then she sent a text to a few of her friends to see if any of them had more details about her death than the papers. She would also need to call Gary and see if Exposure was at risk. Exposure was incredibly private and off the radar but there were several other more public BDSM clubs that Marlie liked to go to. Maybe that’s how the press got ahold of her involvement.

  She glanced at Marlie’s public Facebook page. It was filled with condolences and memories from friends. A shiver raced down her spine as she read details of her friends’ death. The murder had been brutal. As she read another article about Marlie, a name stood out to her. She picked up her phone and scrolled until she came to a familiar number.

  “Michael, it's Darci. Is it true you’re the lead detective on the murder that happened last night? What can you tell me about Marlie Dixon?”

  “Good morning to you too, Darci. You know I can't comment on an ongoing investigation,” the voice on the other end replied.

  “Come on Michael. I'm not asking as a writer I'm asking as someone who lives the same lifestyle. Plus, I read you’re primary on the case.”

  “I can't say much, Darci. But do me a favor and be careful.”

  “You think it's a serial killer?” Darci questioned, feeling uneasy.

  “Darci...” There was a warning in the detective’s voice. It was not a tone he used with her often.

  “I know, I know you can't comment,” she said interrupting him.

  “I'm serious Darci, you're too open about your life with that damn blog. Be careful.” He was scolding her now.

  “This coming from the man who chases bad guys for a living?” she teased.

  “I have a gun. You don't. Don’t make me come to your house and spank you,” he snapped. His tone was not at all teasing.

  She huffed. Frustrated by her friend’s refusal to help her out. “I liked you better when you were just a cop. Goodbye Michael, I'm late for work. Call me if you can tell me anything.” Laughter rang through the speaker and she scowled at her phone.

  “Bye, Darci. Come to the station sometime and bring me coffee.” His tone had returned to normal. Darci sighed. She couldn’t be angry at him.

  “Oh, hold on a second. Did Tessa Heath get her report filed? Thank you for talking with her the other day.”

  “I’m happy to help anytime, and you can bring me coffee in return. But she never showed. I assumed she got cold feet. Sorry I didn’t let you know. It’s been a little busy around here. I passed her name to Special Investigations though.”

  “That’s odd. I’ll call her and check on her today. I wanted to help her get justice.”

  After saying goodbye to Michael again, she flipped back to her contacts and found Tessa’s number. Straight to voicemail. She would have to try again later.

  Even though it was Saturday, Darci had to go into work. Gathering what she needed, she headed to the Metro station. Her to-do list included writing a press release about Marlie’s death. Michael needed to give her more information. Maybe she could swing by his station and bribe him with good coffee. He was always complaining about the stuff they had at the station. She grinned, formulating a plan for later in the morning. It was OK to bribe a police officer when he was your best friend right?

  “Hi Michael, are you in your office?” Darci was standing outside Police Headquarters.

  “Yes, what can I do for you, Darci?” He sounded happy to hear from her and it made her smile.

  “I’m outside the building. Can I come up?”

  “Of course. You didn’t happen to bring coffee, did you?”

  “You’ll have to wai
t and see.” She grinned as she ended the call. In her hand, she held a tray with two coffee cups and a box of fresh Danishes.

  She entered the station and got on the elevator to go up to his office. When she got there, she knocked on his door but didn’t wait for an answer.

  “Hi, Michael.” A bright smile was plastered on her face and she kept her tone cheerful.

  After she placed the coffee and pastry box on his desk, she walked around to his side and kissed his cheek. Choosing a sweet treat for herself, she settled into one of his chairs.

  He picked up the coffee looking grateful and started to drink. He paused, his cup halfway to his lips.

  “Wait a minute. What do you want, Darci? You wouldn’t be trying to bribe an officer of the law, would you?” He scowled at her but drank the coffee. He groaned in appreciation.

  “I would never do that,” she said, feigning shock he would even suggest such a thing. She could tell he wasn’t buying it.

  “Oh, don’t give me that innocent look. We both know better. Spill it kid.”

  “Come on Michael, I’m not asking you to give away state secrets. I need something to go on. The ACSL needs to issue a statement, and we can’t do that without details.”

  “What details do you need Woman? Marlie Dixon was killed with a knife in her own bed.”

  “Do you have any suspects?”

  “Not yet, we’re following all leads,” he said with no emotion.

  “And what leads would those be?” She wasn't going to let him off the hook that easy.

  “Darci, you’re killing me. I can’t talk about this.”

  She pouted, and he threw his hands up. “Fine, we don’t have any leads but damn it, Darci, you can’t print that.”