Chief of Perversion_a power broker novel

by Sadie Haller

  My father and his new wife hold hands as they wend their way between tables to the buffet and I fight another wave of tears as a childhood memory of my father and my mom flashes through my mind.

  We were in the back yard. I was playing in my wading pool and they were on the porch swing, holding hands. I remember my dad cupping my mom’s cheek and kissing her. At the time, I’d thought it was yucky. Now, I’d give my entire trust fund to be there in that moment.

  Swallowing hard against the lump in my throat, I stand and turn toward the coffee station. Unfortunately, Heath is right there with me.

  His smile appears friendly enough. His words are anything but. “I was bang-on last night when I pegged you as a bad girl. I just didn’t realize it was the selfish bitch kind of bad. Here’s the way this is going to go. We continue on like this is the first time we’ve met. When we’re done, we go our separate ways, and you continue to skip family functions. However, in future, you will respectfully decline instead of rudely ignoring the invitation. Got it?”

  I shoot him a grin. “Works for me.”

  Boy, does it ever.

  10

  Heath

  Thank fuck we’re in agreement on something. I wasn’t entirely surprised to see her turn up in the dining room. The hotel had been hosting a number of functions last night, and it was reasonable to assume she spent the night.

  The nearly-swallow-my-tongue moment came when George spoke to her. Any thoughts I had of her being brought to the wrong table went poof. What were the fucking odds?

  I didn’t have much time to come up with a game plan, but she seemed more the type to pretend like nothing happened than make some comment about being able to finally put a name to the cock. So, I took a chance.

  I was already rising to my feet when my dick decided to join the party, so to preserve my dignity and still appear polite, I did that half-stand up thing when I offered the bitch my hand.

  The look of relief on her face was priceless, and I hoped my mom didn’t interpret it as anything more than nerves.

  Of course, I had to swallow my smugness when our hands touched, because what little success I’d had at willing my erection away was completely destroyed in that moment.

  As much as I want to lay into her—and apparently, my traitorous cock is having similar feelings, but for entirely different reasons—I decide to be content with her agreement to stay away.

  My mom will get used to the bitch declining invitations, and eventually maybe even stop issuing them. That seems far easier on all concerned than getting into any sort of conflict. Her dad might be a bit of a complication if he follows through and lambastes her in private.

  Damn.

  He could actually fuck this up in his effort to handle what I’ve already handled.

  After some weighing up the pros and cons, I decide to intervene at the first opportunity. Why let things get stirred up if she is going to fade away into the background anyway?

  I watch her fill the coffee mug she’s holding. She is awfully subdued considering she’s been described to me as a loudmouthed troublemaker.

  True, she doesn’t seem to have much of a voice—I have a twinge of guilt when I realize I could have been less aggressive while fucking her throat last night—but it seems like there is more than that to her croaky voice. Her eyes look a little red. There’s a slight tremor in her hand. I hadn’t noticed it before, but maybe it’s more obvious because now there’s coffee in the cup. I’d pass it off as nerves if I didn’t catch a whiff of alcohol on her breath.

  The rest of the meal is a bit awkward, but we manage to maintain polite conversation at least. Georgia stiffens when my mom hugs her goodbye, and the look on my mom’s face rekindles my anger.

  It’s only a hug, not a fucking death sentence.

  11

  Georgia

  Oh my god, she’s hugging me. I have no idea how to respond. The warmth of a parental hug is unfamiliar.

  My father just doesn’t, and my mom died when I was four. There had been no shortage of caregivers as I was growing up, but every time I got attached, they moved on, and a new one would appear.

  Finally, Frances lets me go, and I can make my escape. But not before I catch the steely glare of my newly-minted stepbrother.

  Oh shit, he’s mad. What the fuck can he possibly have to be mad about, now? I’ve already agreed to send my regrets before staying the fuck away from family functions. On top of that, he has my only parent all to himself along with the obvious adoration of his mother.

  I redouble my efforts to not wallow in pathetic parent envy. I spent too much time doing that as a kid.

  I was nine when I stopped going on play dates. I could no longer stand to be around all that love and then have to return to my own cold, sterile home.

  To avoid seeing all the hugging and kissing at drop off and pick up, I would arrive at school early and leave late. Then I discovered the joy of the library. The one place on the planet I could escape my miserable existence in both body and mind.

  The school librarian had been kind. She made a special place for me to read and had an uncanny ability to recommend books that I adored. I try to push away the rest, but the unwelcome memory comes anyway. The morning the library wasn’t open when I got there. She’d been killed in a car accident on her way to school. The new librarian was nice enough, but I couldn’t let myself love another person who would leave me.

  By the time I hit high school, I’d completely distanced myself from my old friends and didn’t bother making any new ones. Instead, I buried myself in books, eager for the happy endings I knew I would never have.

  I give my head a bit of a shake and turn to leave in the hopes I can make my getaway without having to interact anymore.

  No such luck. My father grabs my arm and leans in close to my ear. “I’ll see you in my office tomorrow morning at eleven. Sharp. And no excuses, my girl.” He gives me that look that has always resulted in my obedience and releases my arm.

  Not this time. There is no fucking way I’m going anywhere near his office. He has his long-awaited perfect son and there’s nothing he has to say that I want or need to hear.

  I remain silent as I turn and make a hasty exit.

  12

  Heath

  Even though George speaks softly, he’s not quiet enough for me to miss him make the appointment for Georgia’s come-to-Jesus-talk. I also don’t miss the split-second of defiance that flits across her features before she walks out. Time for some damage control.

  “Mom, would you mind if I had a quick word with George?”

  My mom smiles and nods. “Of course not. I think I’ll go out and enjoy the garden for a bit.” She gives me a quick hug before turning toward George. “Come find me when you’re done.”

  I wait until she’s out of earshot before bringing up Georgia. “Do you really need to read her the riot act? I know she upset Mom, but why not let it go and leave her to her own devices? If she doesn’t want to be part of the family, why force the issue?”

  “Because it’s time for her to grow up and learn to treat people with a modicum of respect. If she couldn’t find the decency to show up at the wedding, she should have at least had the good manners to let us know.”

  “Look, I know she’s your daughter, but she’s been dealing with your brand of behavior management for her whole life and she knows exactly how far she can push. And you know as well as I do, she’s going to push you right to the edge. What about letting me go talk to her? See if I can at least get her to agree to a show of good manners, even if she refuses to participate in the family.”

  “I don’t know, son. She doesn’t even know you, what makes you think you’ll succeed where I haven’t?”

  Because I already have, and you don’t need to know that. “Because I’m coming from a different place. I’m not her parent. I’m mostly someone on the outside looking in. A stranger. Sometimes people pay attention to what outsiders have to say. It can’t hurt.”

  “I
’m not the kind of man to palm my dirty work off on someone else—”

  “You’re not palming anything off. I’ve offered to try and help with a difficult situation. And we both have the same goal—to keep my mom happy.”

  He smiles. “You’re not wrong there.”

  “So, you’ll let me talk to her?”

  George pauses for a moment and looks out the large expanse of windows into the hotel garden where my mom is sniffing flowers. “Alright. See what you can do today, and if by some miracle you work something out, I’ll cancel tomorrow’s meeting.”

  “Fair enough.”

  Thank fuck for that.

  13

  Georgia

  I don’t even get my coat off before someone is banging on my door. I look through the peephole and groan.

  Fucking Heath.

  So much for living in a secure building. Hell, I’ve known since the day I moved in it’s not really secure. There are no shortage of good Samaritans who are happy to hold the door open for someone just coming in. But why did someone have to hold the fucking door for this asshole?

  He knocks again, louder this time, and I consider pretending I’m not home. But that will just prolong the inevitable, so I pull up my bitch panties and yank open the door.

  “What do you want?”

  “Just a quick chat and I’ll get out of your hair.”

  God, he is just as fucking gorgeous and fuck-worthy now as he’d been last night. I try to squelch that thought for the idiocy it is, but I’m not sure his nasty interior isn’t more appealing to me than his pretty facade. Sometimes a girl wants a bit of nasty.

  I ignore the dampness between my legs and glare up at him. “Get on with it then.”

  “Tell me you’re good for that promise you made earlier and you’re off the hook with your dad.”

  I roll my eyes and shake my head. “I’m never off the hook when it comes to my father, Golden Boy. But my word is good. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.”

  “You did to my mother. Worse, you showed up at the hotel bar during the reception to grab yourself a bit of action.”

  I glare at him. “Hello pot, I’m kettle,” I say as I briefly hold out my hand.

  “Don’t even go there.”

  His expression is dangerous, but I refuse to back down, and I refuse to justify myself. “Look, I’ve been dealing with my father for a lot longer than you. I know exactly what to expect from him. Believe me, keeping my promise to you is easy as fuck, especially if it means I avoid that trip to his office.”

  “Fair enough. One last thing. Do not fuck with my mother’s happiness. Whatever bullshit dynamic you and your dad have going on—that’s between you two, and I don’t care how you deal with it as long as it doesn’t affect my mother. And you owe her an apology for the wedding no-show. How you handle it is your business. Just make sure she’s convinced it’s fucking sincere. Continue to present your bitchy self to whomever you please. Just don’t ever show that side of you to my mother. She’s done nothing to deserve it.”

  I want to tell him to go fuck himself and I don’t give a shit if his mother is happy, but the truth is, I do give a shit. I may be bitchy, but I have a sense of fair play, and what he’s asking isn’t unreasonable.

  I swallow my sadness at not having a champion for my own happiness and nod. “I’ll send her my apologies, and I will do everything I can to keep the shit between me and my father away from your mother. I’ve agreed to everything you’ve asked. Now get the fuck out of my apartment and don’t ever bother me again.”

  Grabbing my hair, he forces me to meet his gaze. “I’ll leave, but I can’t say I won’t bother you again. We have unfinished business.”

  The tingling pain in my scalp from his fist clenched in my hair sends a current through my body. My boobs ache and my pussy throbs with want. I have to shut that shit down because if I’m not careful, it’s going to get me in serious trouble. This man has my father’s ear, and I’m already walking a very fine line.

  “Whatever. I just want you to go.” Such a lie. What I really want is for him to bend me over the nearest piece of furniture and fuck me raw. But that can never happen. Never again.

  “I’m out of here,” he says, releasing his hold on me. “Just make sure you remember your promise.”

  Heath slams the door behind him and I head straight for the vodka bottle. I’m so tired of being called selfish. I should lay off the alcohol, but what’s the point of it being my actual day off if I can’t drink myself into a stupor? I’ll worry about keeping my promise to him about Frances tomorrow.

  14

  Heath

  I take the stairs back to the lobby. I need to calm down, and I don’t want to deal with the potential discomfort of sharing an elevator with other human beings while I’m mentally wrangling a raging hard-on into submission.

  What is it about her?

  When I’d held her hair tangled in my fist, I wanted nothing more than to claim that sassy mouth of hers.

  And now, I really want to go straight back up to Georgia’s apartment and hate-fuck her out of my system. She’d totally be up for it. There was a moment where she’d have been on board for every dirty little thing I could think of, and I’m sure it wouldn’t take much more than a little hair pulling to get her back to that point and keep her there all afternoon.

  And then a nice, long spanking before I did it all again.

  Fuck. I need to change the direction my thoughts are heading before I get to the ground floor.

  As I walk into the lobby, I see a guy holding the door to the building open for someone jogging up the walk.

  Then it hits me. This is supposed to be a secure building, and someone just held the door open for me—no questions asked.

  I don’t like this at all.

  Even though she’s nothing more to me than a connection through marriage, and as long as she’s not upsetting my mom, not my problem.

  At least she has a peephole, and given her reaction to me when she opened the door, I assume she uses it. Not great, but better than nothing.

  I reach into my pocket for my phone and call George.

  “Heath, I didn’t expect to hear from you so soon. I haven’t called to cancel my meeting with Georgia, yet.”

  “It’s all good, and you don’t need to call her for that. She already knows she doesn’t have to go.” I pause for a moment, not sure whether to bring it up or not. My uneasy gut wins out. “I do have a concern, though.”

  “Oh yes?” His voice turns harder.

  “Her building is a security nightmare. She’s really not safe there.”

  He gives a small huff. “She’s been living there for years. I’m sure she’s just fine.”

  I know his relationship with his daughter is strained, at best, but I’m surprised at his blasé attitude toward her safety.

  “Have you seen where she’s living?”

  “No, and I don’t need to. She’s made it perfectly clear to me on multiple occasions that she’s an adult and entirely capable of taking care of herself. And that I should keep my nose out of her business.”

  I guess I need to just take a step away from the whole thing. I’ve done my bit to smooth things over, and I’ve got more important shit to deal with before heading to the airport this afternoon.

  15

  Georgia

  I wake up early the next morning to another screaming headache, queasy stomach, and raging thirst. I lay some blame to the second shit night’s sleep in a row, but if I’m honest, yesterday’s vodka binge is responsible for most of it.

  I pad into the kitchen and chug the large glass of cold water I should have had before going to sleep last night. Then my stomach starts to really churn, so I grab a sleeve of crackers and head back to bed.

  A couple hours later, I wake up again, feeling almost human. Definitely time to curb the alcohol consumption. Before I wind up hitting rock bottom.

  Like fucking my new stepbrother in a bathroom at the Esmonde wasn’
t rock-bottom. Like still wanting to fuck him into next week, even though he’s an asshole, isn’t rock bottom.

  I push all the uncomfortable thoughts out of my head because all they do is make me want to pound vodka.

  And that’s actually a worrying thought.

  I reach for my work phone and call the office to see how Katie is and if there’s any way I can visit.

  “She’s doing fine. But right now, you really need to keep your distance. You called her on your personal phone, and even though she erased the calls, you know as well as I do her husband is better equipped than most to obtain her call logs and cell tower data.”

  “The cell tower data won’t help him.” I say with a smug grin. “There will be a nice big blackout from the mall where we went shortly after I picked her up until I returned there after dropping her off at the safe-house.”

  “Don’t get cocky, Georgia. No matter how well you think you’ve covered your tracks, he’s got to be a special kind of stupid to not figure out you were involved. You said it yourself, you hadn’t talked to her since her wedding, then suddenly, there’s a phone call from you the same day she disappears. So for everyone’s safety, you can’t see her. We will keep you updated, though.”

  I know she’s right, but that doesn’t make my heart hurt any less. “Can you at least let her know I’m thinking of her, and whatever I can do for her when it’s safe, I will do?”

  “Of course. Are you okay for your shift tomorrow? Because if you need some extra time to process, I can find someone to cover for you.”

  “No, I’ll be fine. Thanks.” Time to process really only means more time to get stuck inside my head, which is the last thing I need.

  “Georgia, one last thing…keep your eyes and ears open. Any sign of trouble, no matter how trivial you think it might be, you get somewhere safe and call in.”