Chapter 1

Chapter One

JAMES

Three months earlier.

Boston

There was one reason and one reason only why I was at my father’s law office today. The woman who birthed me. My mother asked me to see him, so I agreed, even though I’d rather take a swim in the Charles River. That I would prefer immersing myself into a polluted-as-fuck body of water to meeting with my dad, spoke volumes.

The truth? I loved my mother, but I couldn’t say the same about my father. Harsh as it was to acknowledge, pragmatism told me I wasn’t the first son to feel this way about a parent. History was filled with examples.

I dreaded this meeting because I knew whatever message he wanted to deliver to me personally wasn’t anything I’d want to hear. Nothing he ever imparted was good news, but this felt like walking into an ambush. To say we had a stiff relationship was a polite way of describing it. I kept myself guarded because I had to. If your father sat on the First Circuit Court of Appeals that would probably do it for most people. The fact I practiced law in the same city as him required the appearance of family solidarity even if there was none. I had a fuck-ton of valid reasons for feeling the way I did.

Even though I’d been in his presence at family dinners and holiday occasions, I hadn’t been in his office since the day I left it five years ago. The feelings of anger and disgust simmered below the surface where I’d forced them to stay. After this, I’d need a release to bring me back down to level. I knew where I’d be heading tonight. Annnnnd wasn’t the irony just fucking beautiful considering where I was right now?

"He’s ready for you, James." Patricia’s smile held a touch of sympathy. She probably knew the reason for my summons. My father, the judge, only hired the best, and every lawyer with half a brain understood a smooth running office existed in direct correlation to the skills of his or her legal secretary.

"Thanks. Oh, before I forget, tell Chase to get in touch with Marguerite at my offices if he’s interested in an internship." Patricia’s oldest son was a first year law student at Suffolk and probably a smart kid if he was anything like his mom.

"Oh, that’s so kind. I know Chase will jump at the opportunity, James." She smiled with genuine thanks before leading me into my father’s inner sanctum.

He tracked me with his eyes as I entered the room. I had to work fucking hard to keep a lid on my emotions and remain impassive. I was on enemy turf for as long as this meeting lasted. I thought of my mother, and that helped to keep my feet planted. If not for her request, I’d be out the fucking door and back on the street where I could breathe again.

"Sit down, son."

I settled into one of his soft leather chairs and leaned back with an expression of relaxed comfort. An acting performance that should probably earn me an Academy Award because in reality, it felt like I was being ass-fucked on a bed of nails. I would probably walk out of here feeling the same way when this meeting was over.

"Thank you for coming today. I realize your mother had to persuade you."

I kept my eyes forward and ignored the calculated barb. "How is she?" I deflected by asking him a question.

"Your mother is very well as she always is." Undoubtedly he was lying, but I’d learned long ago that my parents’ relationship was not my battle to fight. "I’ve asked you for a private meeting to share my news. You need to know what’s coming."

I said nothing. There wasn’t a thing on earth that could’ve compelled me to ask him for the information. I wasn’t able to pretend that much with my father. All my energy was taken up by being present in the first place. I knew my silent disinterest rankled him. And I fucking loved that it did.

"Ted Robinson’s recent cancer diagnosis has ended his political career."

"You know what they say about karma," I answered. All I could envision was the darkly beautiful goddess that was karma swooping in for her well-deserved due, because Ted Robinson shared space on the same list with my dad. Cut from exactly the same cloth. "Besides, he has Mrs. Robinson to care for his every need now, so he can certainly take some comfort in that."

Bitch, please.

The idea of my ex, Leah, nursing her sick husband back to health was so outrageous even I had to call bullshit on my own inner monologue. Robinson would abso-fucking-lutely have private in-home nursing care, because his adoring wife certainly wouldn’t soil her hands cleaning up his piss and puke.

"It’s time to let go of what happened in the past, James. It’s done. Move on to the new."

Let go of what happened in the past?

My jaw twitched involuntarily, probably from how hard I was gritting my teeth. I had moved on to the new, as he put it. What the fuck did he think that was five years ago when I severed ties with this law firm and started my own? James R. Blakney & Associates, P.C. was something pretty fucking new. I shrugged and shook my head slowly. "So, what…you’re running for public office now?"

"I’ve been approached by the party, yes." He unclasped his hands and placed both palms onto his desk. "I will accept their invitation to throw my hat into the proverbial ring. I have every intention of representing Massachusetts in the US Senate one year from now."

Of course you do.

I figured this day would come. My father’s ego most definitely predestined a political career at some point. "Congratulations," I managed to ground out.

"The senate is just the first step in the overarching plan though."

"Overarching plan?" I loathed when he spoke in riddles like he was now. So arrogantly smug in his passive aggressiveness, it grated on my already stretched patience.

"Yes. The senate campaign announcement will come early February when everyone is breathing a collective sigh of relief the presidential race debacle has finally been put to bed. They’ll use it to deflect some of the negative into a positive. Two years isn’t a horribly long time to have to wait for a candidate they can really get behind and safely propel into the White House."

Whoa. Was he saying what I thought he was saying? "You’re serious."

"Deadly serious."

"You’re going to run for President of the United States." I didn’t pose it as a question. I blinked at him, hoping to wake up from a really bad fucking dream—unable to accept the idea—grasping at straws of denial instead. "But aren’t you getting ahead of things? The White House is a long way from a judgeship on the First Circuit."

He stone-faced me, taking me straight back to when I was a kid and about to get served my punishment for some irrationally perceived infraction. I had a lot of those moments in my childhood to draw from. A flicker of fear crept inside my heart.

"I-I m-mean, you have to win the senate seat before you can declare a run for President in two years." I wanted to cut out my tongue for stammering and showing weakness in front of him.

"The senate race is already done. All I need to make it stick is the cooperation of my beloved family." His lip curled up on one side in a definite sign of distaste as he spoke the last word. Jesus Christ, he must hate us all.

"How so?" I wouldn’t have anything to do with his campaign. No fucking way. I held my palms up. "This has nothing to do with me. Your campaign is yours…as in, not mine."

"Oh, but it is in a way, son. You’ll have to do your part to help present the right image to the voting public. Every aspect of our lives will be scrutinized. Every predilection…" He folded his hands and focused his dark eyes on mine, finally getting to the crux of the issue.

"Even I can’t change who I am...Dad. You might think you can clean me up for your precious campaign, but you can’t. You are responsible for my transformation, after all."

Maybe he was responsible.

But maybe not.

The darkness had always been there for as long as I could remember, just not acted on until rather recently. Now? I needed it to survive. The control was essential for me. That my father had knowledge of my sexual proclivities was a far worse burden to bear on my part. That I liked to tie up women and spank them while fucking was going to be his.

"Don’t be so dramatic. It’s a simple solution. Your sister is already on the right path. She understands her duty to her family. The only loose end is you." He did the lip curl again. "You will also do your duty to this family, and you will do it quickly."

I shook my head at him. Denying what I knew he was asking of me. "I’m not hearing this."

"You are hearing this. I can’t run a campaign for the highest office in the land with a thirty-something son unmarried and frequenting an underground sex club. Discreet you may be, but this upcoming level of scrutiny isn’t what you’ve ever experienced. I might be able to get the past whitewashed somewhat, but my powers aren’t infinite here. A pretty wife and young family will do a much more convincing job than a cover-up could ever manage. The Internet makes things goddamn complicated for all of us."

Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.

"Married doesn’t work for me. I mean, just look at what happened the last time I tried to put a ring on it. You orchestrated that catastrophe like a pro, I might add."

"Ancient history, James," he said with a dismissive wave of a hand.

Ancient history, perhaps to him.

"Knowing my own father arranged for my almost marriage to disintegrate at the fucking altar in front of a full church of wedding guests still grates."

"She wasn’t the right wife for you…obviously, and beneath this family. Can you deny you’re not better off without her now?"

That last part stung like a bitch because he was right on that one point. I was better off without Leah in my life. But even worse was knowing how I’d been played by the people who shouldn’t have dreamed of playing me. At the time, it had been beneficial for Leah to leave.

Beneficial for him…and for Ted Robinson.

My father cared only about himself, and that wouldn’t change until he took his last breath on this earth. Rage got the upper hand over my self-control and I jumped up from the chair. "Why do you feel entitled to dictate the who and the when I should marry?"

He shrugged. "Because I can, and because it behooves me to have both of my children happily settled with families of their own. Family values will be the impetus of my campaign. Family. Values." His frustration was beginning to show. "You are going to get some."

Happily married, my ass. He wouldn’t even know what that is."And how do you suggest I do this?"

He made a sound of disgust. "Do I really have to spell this out for you, son?"

"Since it’s me you’re asking to do this? Yeah, you do, Dad."

He settled back into the luxurious leather. "Marry a girl from a good family and get her pregnant. I am assuming you can figure that part of it—" He paused, his expression changing to one of interest. "Or get her pregnant first, and then marry her."

"I’m not doing any of—"

"In fact, a surprise pregnancy might work even better to endorse our support of traditional values with a thoroughly modern interpretation." He tapped his lips with an index finger and looked genuinely pleased for the first time since I’d entered his office.

"Have you lost your mind? I’m not getting a girl pregnant to benefit your fucking political ambitions."

"Careful now," he warned. "You will do exactly as I’ve outlined. And you will settle down and get to work on creating the picture-perfect family I need standing in support of the legacy I am building. It’s not like I’m asking you to do anything you wouldn’t do eventually, James. People grow up and get married. They have children. It’s the only reason marriage exists. Why are you struggling with this?"

I had to fight off the urge to shudder out my revulsion. Of course he’d see the notion of marriage for reproduction only. It certainly wasn’t there for love. The thought of standing on a podium somewhere forced to cheer on my father in support was just too much to have to stomach this early in the day. "Fuck you," I mumbled under my breath, hating that I didn’t have the guts to spit it in his egotistical face.

"You will not fuck this up for me, James."

"What if I don’t find someone?"

"I suggest you do if you want to be involved with the choice. If you can’t manage to find a suitable bride on your own, then one will be found for you. A suitable bride, James. Not one of the whores from the club. Wealth is not as important as an upstanding family background for showing we can relate to solid middle class—"

"Just listen to yourself," I said disgustedly. "How in the hell do you—"

"Know that I can,and I will if you disregard my wishes. I am able to make just about anything happen to suit my needs, and I won’t hesitate to follow through if you fail me."

"So you’re just taking over my life to serve yourself?" I could hardly wrap my head around this conversation.

"You’re thinking too hard, and I am weary of this conversation. I expect some forward movement on this issue by Thanksgiving. Your mother so looks forward to having her children home for the day."

Yeah, and she’s the sole reason we go. "That’s only three weeks from now."

"Bring your prospective bride to meet us so we can get to know this new daughter who will be mother to my future grandchildren." The smile he gave looked a bit maniacal. "Children, who will enjoy the honor and privilege of visiting their grandfather in the Oval Office someday."

Please, God, don’t ever let that happen.

He then returned his attention to whatever document was in front of him and acted as if I wasn’t in the room. My father had finished with me for the moment, so I was effectively dismissed.

I didn’t remember leaving his office, but once I felt the warmth of the autumn sun seeping through the clouds, I knew I’d made it out somehow.

The fuck did my father think he could control my life in this way?

I stood among the foot traffic moving in both directions around me, and I felt…chilled. Cold with fear and worry. Cold like a winter fury.

Cold like winter.

Winter.

From the moment my father started dictating his sordid plans for me, I knew who I wanted. There was only one person. The only girl it could ever be for me—even though it would be something close to immoral for me to bring her into the shitfuckery that was my life.

It would be wrong…but it would feel so right.

Because Winter Blackstone was my kryptonite. This I knew. One small slip of indulging in my desires to be closer and there would be no turning back. With my father’s edict burning a hole in my heart, I was being handed a reason to go there with her.

But I can’t.

I was fucked and I knew it. I knew myself, and I knew how hard the struggle would be in resisting the temptation of her. For me, the allure of Winter Blackstone was something with which I was well familiar. Her unaffected beauty, her kind and generous heart, her gentle way of listening and knowing the right thing to say in any situation, made her approachable and easy for people to love.

Love?

Did I love her?

Of course I did. I’d known her since she was a toddler, and she’d become a dear and trusted friend. But, if I was honest…Winter was much more than that for me, and she had been for a long time. She possessed every quality I could want in a wife. In terms of promoting my father’s political campaign, she couldn’t be more perfect. YOUNG HEIRESS CHOOSES SOCIAL WORK OVER HIGH SOCIETY. The news agencies would eat her up and crown her their darling overnight. Yes, I loved Winter Blackstone, but loving someone and being in love with them were not one in the same. I couldn’t say the latter was definitively true. Honestly, I wasn’t sure if being in love was something I was even capable of.

You’re still fucked because she’s off limits.

This was my truth. Because I could never be with Winter the way I wanted to be. I could never have her. Not how I’d dreamed of having her when my innermost fantasies took over within my twisted headspace.

Winter was too good.

She was too sweet.

She was just too perfectly innocent…for the likes of me.