His Rise to Power: Book 1

by Fawkes, Tasha

  He had some valid points, but there was a mistrustful sensual note in his voice. “While I see the validity of your argument, I still think it would be more appropriate if we drove separately. I’ll see you at eight.” Hurriedly, I closed the call before he could talk me into sharing a ride.

  Rachel barely lasted thirty seconds before she started jumping up and down and clapping her hands. “Yes!” she said. “Finally, we’re getting somewhere.”

  “I hope you mean for work.” I sighed, setting my phone back down on my desk. Quickly, I unzipped my skirt and peeled it off.

  “Of course I mean work.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re way too repressed to sleep with a donor.”

  “Why did that sound more like an insult than a compliment?” I grumbled. “Besides, I am not repressed!”

  “Really? When was the last time you had a man in your bed? When was the last time you were even on a date? The entire time I’ve known you, the only time I’ve seen a man make you stumble is the congressman.”

  “He doesn’t make me stumble!” I argued, but my voice squeaked, and I winced as I stepped into my jeans and pulled them up. “And I’m not repressed. I just know where my priorities are. Why are we even arguing about this? I can’t sleep with a donor.”

  “But he’s under your skin, and you hate it,” she said matter-of-factly. “Try to wear something sexy tonight for dinner.”

  “Sexy? This isn’t a date, Rachel. It’s a dinner meeting.” I waved my skirt and blouse before I put it in the bag. “I’ll probably wear this.”

  “The skirt that is unfashionably long and the baggy blouse?” she asked with a frown.

  “Again, no need for me to be sexy.”

  Sighing, she leaned forward and glanced in the bag. “Oops,” she said as she dropped her cup on the clothes. “My bad.”

  Furious, I glared at her. “I’m going to kill you.”

  “This sort of seduction is nothing about getting him into your bed and everything about getting him to open his wallet. Wear the blue dress. The hemline falls almost to your knees, and it just shows a peak of your cleavage, so it’s modest enough for a business dinner, but it skims your body tightly enough to remind him that you’re a woman. A woman who is confident and in control. Pair it with the stilettos. He’s tall, and those kitten heels do nothing to show off your calves. Wear your hair up,” she instructed. “Sexy but all business.”

  I wanted to argue, but I was far more comfortable in jeans than I was in a dress. Everything she said sounded valid. “Fine, but you’re paying the dry cleaning bill if that coffee doesn’t come out. That’s my go-to business skirt.”

  She wrinkled her nose. “How about we go shopping and I buy you a new one because, trust me, no one is going to cry over the ruination of that shapeless outfit.”

  “When did you get so mean?” I complained.

  “I’ve always been mean. I just have never needed to be mean to you. Now come on. We’re going to be late. I’ll drive, and you can look at the paperwork on the way.”

  Eight

  Blythe

  The dress skimmed down my body just as Rachel knew it would. Not that it surprised me. She was the one who made me buy it when I was shopping for a dress for a fundraiser a couple of years ago. I ended up not wearing the dress, to her horror, because Hirsh was going to be at the fundraiser with some of his friends, and I didn’t like the way some of them were looking at me.

  It was a great idea at the time, but it didn’t work in the long run.

  Oddly enough, I felt safe wearing the dress with Jack. Even though I was feeling a little heated from our exchanges, I wasn’t getting the same vibe from him. He was so tightly packed under that suit and that practiced smile that it was hard to know what he was thinking.

  I looked good. Put-together. Sweeping my dark hair up in a low bun, I added a little foundation and some eyeliner and mascara. I hated lipstick, so I generally avoided it. The total package turned me into a woman who looked like she was used to power and respect.

  The dinner was about getting money, and that’s what I was going to do.

  After pulling into the parking lot, I noticed the long limo already waiting at the curb. A man wearing all black stood at the restaurant’s entrance, his black glasses and earpiece giving him away.

  Immediately, my hopes died. He came with a limo and security detail. I came with a backfiring Honda.

  So much for walking in with power and control. I had a feeling that my dress wasn’t going to be enough.

  Nodding to the security guard, I strode into the restaurant with as much confidence as I could muster. I was met by yet another man in black. Over his shoulder, I spotted Jack already seated in a back corner, speaking to a familiar man. He was the same man who had threatened to kick me out of the bar the other night.

  Wonderful. The man was probably telling him that I was a lunatic and not to give me any money.

  Even though I bristled at the reminder of how stupid I’d been, I couldn’t help being a bit in awe of my surroundings. The restaurant was truly beautiful. White-clothed tables surrounded a small sparkling gazing pool in the middle. Small fountains of water spurted up and reflected the ambient soft lighting. Candles danced in the darkened room, and savory aromas wafted from the kitchen. Most of the other guests were decked out in suits and beautiful dresses and sat closely together. It was an atmosphere and romance and something else.

  Money. The restaurant practically dripped in it. I was so out of my league.

  “Good evening, Miss Hemsey,” the security man said tightly as he scrutinized me a little too closely.

  “Trust me, the dress doesn’t leave much room for weapons,” I said dryly. “And I don’t think it’s going to look good if you frisk me.”

  He stiffened and jerked his head. Apparently, he didn’t like my joke. Go figure. “This way.”

  God, I had to be sat by security instead of the restaurant host? Already heads were turning. I saw the moment Jack spotted me coming in his direction. Standing, he walked around the table and pulled out my chair.

  My stomach twisted, and my skin grew warm. Dear lord. Then he smiled that million-dollar smile, and I was lost.

  Pull. It. Together.

  “Chivalry isn’t dead,” I said as I stuck out my hand. I wanted to make it very clear to anyone watching that this was a business dinner.

  He smirked as he shook it gently. “You look lovely, Blythe.”

  And he was mouth-wateringly handsome in his white button-up shirt that was open at his throat. He wore no tie, which immediately made the dinner seem a little more casual.

  Like a date.

  Shit.

  “I hope my staff didn’t give you a hard time,” he continued as he walked around the table and took his seat. “Unfortunately, I’ve received a number of threats since my reelection, and they are on guard.”

  “It’s all right. I’d say that I feel safer, but they’re looking at me like I might start screaming obscenities at you at any minute.” I tried to make a joke, but they were making me uncomfortable.

  “You did accost me in a bar,” he pointed out.

  Damn it. I flushed a deep red. “I’m sober now.”

  “The night is young,” he teased before turning his head to the giant guard. “Carl, you can relax a little. You’re making the lady nervous.”

  Making me nervous? He was probably making the whole restaurant nervous. The bodyguard scowled but moved to a corner table where he sat and kept a sharp eye out on us.

  “Have you ever been here before?” he asked as he glanced over the menu. “I’ve already ordered a bottle of the red, although vodka seems to be your preference.”

  Sharply, I glanced up at him. “How do you know that I like vodka?”

  For the first time since I’d confronted him, he shifted nervously in his chair. “I may have seen you drinking at the bar before you confronted me.”

  Seen me? If he knew I was taking shots of vodka, he’d been watching me. Putting do
wn the menu, I leaned over the table and rested on my elbows. “You saw me outside the bar too, talking on my phone? That’s why you thought I was speaking to Hirsh. Did you know who I was before I confronted you?”

  “No.” Emphatically, he shook his head. “I did not. Your body language caught my attention while you were on the phone, and I noted that you came in afterward to drink. I certainly did not expect you to confront me once you were drunk enough to find the courage.”

  “My body language?”

  His gaze moved a little too suggestively up and down, and I immediately leaned back and wrapped my arms around my body. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable,” he said softly. “You caught my attention. You still have it.”

  “But this is just a business meeting.” I tapped my finger on the menu. “Right?”

  He was quiet for a moment as if he was assessing me before he smiled. “Why don’t we order, and then we’ll get down to business?”

  Did he think that I was stupid enough to realize that he hadn’t answered the question? Completely off my game now, I hid behind the menu as I perused it. The prices alone made my heart skip a beat. I was wooing him, right? Did that mean I was supposed to pay? What kind of wine did he get?

  Quickly, I did some calculations. If I ate ramen and cereal for the rest of the month, and the month after, I’d probably make up the loss.

  As much as I wanted a giant juicy steak, I settled on a small shrimp salad. Jack ordered the lobster ravioli. The waiter, clad in a white shirt, white vest, and a black bow tie, poured out wine and quietly retreated.

  “I’ve taken the time to study the activity of your non-profit. How do you cope with all that pressure?”

  The question surprised me, especially coming from a man as busy as the one across from me. Plus, I hadn’t expected him to dive right into business. I was a little relieved.

  “I love it,” I said honestly. “Being busy means that I’m accomplishing something. I’m sure you know what it’s like. You just came out of a long campaign.”

  “My campaign was brutal, but a lot of that stress rested on the shoulders of others. My team bore the brunt well. You don’t have that kind of leverage. Rachel is your only staff member. You rely on the volunteers, but you do the bulk of the work.”

  “It’s worth it,” I assured him. “If nothing else, that should show you how dedicated I am to make the money I have work.” These days, there was too much scandal about how charity money was distributed. I wanted my donors to know that most of their money was going directly to the benefit of the kids.

  The waiter returned and dropped off some rolls and butter. My stomach rumbled, and I snagged one.

  Picking up his glass of wine, he swirled it a little and lifted it to his lips. “I’ve seen photos of you,” he said casually as he took a sip. “You’ve lost weight over the last few years. It makes me wonder if you’re working a little too hard.”

  Lost weight? Was he calling me skinny? “You didn’t invite me out here to insult me, did you?” I asked as I grabbed the butter knife. From the corner of my eye, I saw Carl stiffen, and hastily put the knife down. The guy was way too high-strung.

  “It’s not an insult. It’s an observation.” He reached for a roll. “I’m a politician, Blythe. My team’s specialty is taking the figures of today and seeing how they’ll change in the future. Your sports complex is doing well, but you’re running yourself ragged to keep it going. The budget that you gave me does not include an addition to your staff. You barely have the time to keep the complex going, but you want to open an arts center?”

  I opened my mouth, but I had no rebuttal. In truth, I hadn’t even thought about it. I’d assumed that I’d continue to handle all the paperwork and the volunteer staff, but he wasn’t wrong. I was already stretched thin.

  He nodded his head to me. “You’re going to burn yourself out. It would be a shame for a woman with so much passion to give up because she’s continually beating her head against a brick wall.”

  “I’m not beating my head against a brick wall. Unless you’re wining and dining me to let me down easy.” I’d said it as a joke, but the idea squeezed at my heart. Was that what tonight was about? Had I gotten all pretty just for him to reject my charity?

  “If you don’t release the butter knife, Carl is going to come over here,” he said mildly.

  In my stress, I didn’t even realize that I’d grabbed it again. A little angry, I stabbed it at the butter and began violently spreading it over my bread. “I guess I can at least admit that you’re a step up from Hirsh. The fancy restaurant is a little cruel, but at least you aren’t ghosting me.”

  “That’s another thing I wanted to speak to you about tonight. I’d very much like to know what happened between you and Hirsh.”

  There was something in his voice that raised a warning flag. Glancing up, I saw the streak of anger in his eyes despite his cool voice, and the realization smacked at me.

  He thought I’d slept with my last donor.

  Not caring what the hell Carl did, I saw red.

  Nine

  Jack

  The woman was an open book. A fascinating open book. By the time she’d finished angrily buttering her poor roll, it was in pieces on her plate, which only seemed to piss her off more.

  Finally, she looked up. “Obviously, he withdrew his support because he got tired of fucking me. Like you said, I’m running pretty thin these days. I was practically falling asleep under him. I guess a man takes offense to that kind of thing.”

  Wincing, I reached across and pushed the basket of rolls to her. “Maybe you should try another.”

  “Maybe I should just leave.”

  “Blythe.” She shot me a murderous look, and I smiled to put her at ease. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything. Hirsh has been contacting my office to see if I was supporting you. His insistence is raising some eyebrows in my office. I wanted to know the story. I’m not claiming that you slept with him.”

  “But someone is,” she muttered and sighed. “Sorry. It’s a sore point for me. Apparently, it’s difficult to look at a woman my age and think that she can’t work side-by-side with the wealthy man without wanting to slip between his sheets in hopes of padding her bank account.”

  It had nothing to do with her age and everything to do with her gorgeous face and curvaceous body, but I didn’t point that out. Frankly, I figured she could look in the mirror and see that for herself. Especially in that dress. I’d grown speechless when I first saw her.

  “Hirsh claimed that he was going to support the arts center. I didn’t go into it thinking that our previous working relationship with the sports center would grease the wheels. I gathered all the same paperwork that I gave you and sent it to him. Twice. Then, I was ignored and put off for weeks. When his assistant did call me back, it was to tell me that I hadn’t sent the paperwork over, and they ended up throwing in their support with another charity foundation. It was bullshit. I know I sent the paperwork, and I followed up twice a week, but there was no point in pushing the issue. It was obvious that Hirsh was dumping me, so to speak.”

  That was odd. “And you have no idea what happened?”

  There was an awkward pause and a flash of something in her eyes. “Nope. Not a clue,” she said as she picked up a broken piece of her roll.

  She’d lied to me. I knew it instantly, but I wasn’t as angry as much as I was intrigued. Blythe had to know that she was a poor poker player. It was obvious that she didn’t lie often, so there was something about this particular issue that made her want to hide it from me.

  I’d ferret it out, in time.

  The waiter returned with our food, and I eyed her shrimp salad in distaste. I’d done enough research on her to know that she was barely getting by in her personal financials. I didn’t want to impress her with the nice restaurant as much as I wanted to treat her to a decent meal.

  “What?” she demanded with obvious irritation. “Why are you looking at my food like that?”r />
  “Forgive me. I don’t mean to insult your meal.”

  Spearing the shrimp with her fork, she gave me a dirty look and shoved it in her mouth. I almost laughed at her obvious rebellion, but then a surprised look crossed her face, and she stared down at her salad. “Oh my god. I didn’t even know a salad could taste like that. What is this dressing?”

  Pleased that she was enjoying herself, I relaxed and enjoyed my own meal. If I could convince her to get dessert and drink more wine, I’d be satisfied.

  “I guess you’re still thinking it over? Helping my charity, I mean. I’ve got some more information for you to look over. Plans from other places that built something similar. The demographics won’t be the same because the projects aren’t in Florida, but it might help sway your opinion.”

  “My opinion doesn’t need swaying,” I said calmly. “I’d very much like to help you, and I’ve already endorsed some grants to help get you started. Unfortunately, I can’t give you the kind of help that Hirsh did. We just don’t have that kind of money in the budget, but I can at least help fund some events to raise more money.”

  A look of relief crossed her face. “Thank you,” she said softly.

  “The timing is tight, but I think I have a way to find more endorsements for you. I just need to speak to someone first.”

  “I really did think that you were going to turn me down,” she admitted.

  Remembering her drunken accusations, I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You don’t have a high opinion of me or politicians in general.”

  “Can you blame me? Politicians, in general, don’t have a great reputation.”

  “Neither do most charity foundations,” I pointed out.

  Blythe flushed, and I loved it. There was something erotic about the way color crept over her chest and colored her cheeks. It made me want to scandalize her.

  “Then I guess we both have something to prove,” she said. “I followed your campaign closely. You made some big promises. Protecting the waters for the fishermen.”