UNSHAKABLE (Able Series Book 4) (15 page)

“Damien, Viv says you want to talk to me.”

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice, Mr. President.”

“Is this regarding Sophia?” He leans on the table, his solid stare challenging my own.

“Not entirely, Sir. I received this today, this morning.” I raise the manila envelope that weighs like a ton of bricks.

I hand it to him while holding my breath. He fans every single document on the table, stands up, scans the items, and slams his hands on the flat surface, probably experiencing the anger I’ve felt since seeing it for the first time. He looks at the pictures of Nicole and me, and hotel receipts. When he sees the emails on how to bring him down, his brows furrows and his jaw clenches. The fact that the names are blackened out only adds to his frustration.

“Unbelievable. Do you have a clue who sent this?” He walks away from the table directly to his desk and calls Joe.

While waiting he says, “This will hurt Sophia. I need to know you’re in it one hundred and ten percent, Damien.”

“I am, until you tell me to stand down, and even then I don’t think I could. I promised you I’d be her shield. That hasn’t changed, Sir. Obviously, I can’t deny the photos, but I can tell you those receipts aren’t mine. I wasn’t in DC on those dates.”

“Okay, then I hope you’re prepared to hear this. She’s moving out, and she made it perfectly clear she won’t accept no for an answer. While I don’t agree, I can’t deny her this because she told me with tears in her eyes that she’s living in a nightmare. Do you know how hard it is to accept that someone who works for me has caused my daughter, the light of my life, her greatest heartache?”

I couldn’t even say a single word because I am that person. I’m responsible for causing her pain. I am front and center in the nightmare she’s living, so how can someone rise above that?

Before I could even say a word he mutters, “I’m not talking about you. I’m talking about Nicole. She’s been telling the press that both of you were falling in love with each other, and that even though it ended it was more than just a sexual rendezvous. Now, it’s a he said, she said kind of game. I can’t really argue someone’s feelings over another, and now with this . . .” He points at the damning pictures. “. . . . .I can’t even spin it any other way!” I’m gearing to give my two cents when Joe walks in. “I know what you’re going to say, but I can’t fire her just because you’re telling me that she’s lying. Just as I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt, I owe it to her too. But mark my words, if she’s guilty, she’ll fry for this.”

“What’s going on?” Joe finally asks as he walks slowly toward the table. His face morphs from shock to complete and utter disdain when he sees the documents on full display.

I think to myself when will shit stop knocking at my door? The hotel receipts are damning enough, even though I know they aren’t mine, they would still be pinned on me. How can obsession drive someone to hurt, to destroy? Those questions will remain unanswered until we figure out who’s behind this, and the only thing I could think of is how to come up with the best defense.

Complete and full determination sets its claws in my mind. I’m already planning my next step, and whoever is the mastermind of this is already dead.

D-E-A-D.

“I need this to stay between the three of us. Not a word to Sophia or to anyone on my staff.”

“Sir, according to the enclosed letter, the source only wants to meet with me and in the time of his choosing. I’ve been getting phone calls where there’s a breather or a hang up. They’re coming from an untraceable phone. I don’t want to just sit back and wait for his call. I believe it’s safe to assume whoever leaked the pictures and audio tape is connected to this ring to bring you down, Sir.” I wait for his decision as he silently talks to his most trusted advisor.

“Do we even have anything to go on?” Joe bellows. “I mean, all we have are email conversations without names! How the hell are you going to start an investigation on that?”

“I’ve dusted the envelope for finger prints, and I’ve come up with nothing. Whoever is doing this isn’t just a dick head off the street. Pardon my language, Sir. Let’s narrow down possible suspects, and I’ll go from there. I’ll bet my life on Nicole. My gut tells me she’s connected to this. Also, with it being an election year, can you think of anyone, an opponent maybe, a Senator, somebody that you’ve pissed off in the past, Sir?”

“Damien, we can’t run on gut alone. Yes, the word ‘Senator’ is on one of the correspondence, but really how authentic are these emails? I can’t go by this alone and start arresting people. None of these documents are directly pinning anyone to anything. It needs to be solid for it to stick, so first we need names! Who do you trust?”

His question leaves me searching for the truth myself. I thought everyone around me was trustworthy. Being in this line of work, at this level, one wouldn’t think a mole could exist. I make a mental note of who I trust and those I don’t. Alarmingly, my list is a very short one.

“I trust Dan and Luke. Dan’s been the head of the Presidential detail since you were campaigning four years ago, and Luke’s been on Sophia’s detail just about the same amount of time. I need to show and discuss all of this with them, but one thing, Sir; once I have some information, I will tell Sophia. She’s my partner, and I’m not fighting this fight with her blindfolded. I don’t play that way.”

It looks like he’s biting the inside of his cheek in deep thought. “Okay. But this needs to stay air tight.” He sits and sighs. “I don’t know how deep this goes, and I don’t think I need to stress the necessity to crush it. To be honest with you, if their plan to bring me down depends on destroying your relationship with my daughter, it’s not gonna be their end game. Do whatever it takes to deal with this silently.”

“Yes, Sir.”

As soon as he steps out, I throw a quick message to Dan. Minutes later we’re both staring at the documents scattered on the table trying to shorten the list of possible suspects. How the hell are we going to weed out whoever is doing this?

After hours of racking my damn brain, I contemplate calling her, but I decide not to. I hate the thought of talking about us on the phone where I can’t look into her eyes. I need to see her, to feel her because that’s how it’s been with us. If she thinks moving out will end this, she better think again because I’ll move in.

Hellos
—I’ve learned to love them because of her.

Goodbyes
—I will never utter that word to her because goodbye doesn’t exist in my world—in our world.

SOPHIA

MY MIND HAMMERS THE THOUGHT
home: he didn’t call.

While my body wants to kick my brain seven ways to Sunday, it has nothing to give after an eleven hour day in the studio. I manage to take a shower and slowly crawl into my bed as soon as I get home. Or I should say as soon as I walk home since I now live above my dance studio.

I’m proud of myself for actually doing it. Even though the pictures and audio tape have brought pain, they have one redeeming factor, they forced me to leave and finally be independent. Maybe now people will take me seriously. Why they haven’t before is beyond me. After college I’ve established a fairly successful business, bought my studio on my own dime, and paid my way since graduating.

But now, I’m being pitted against Nicole. A girl born with a golden spoon in her mouth versus a ‘rags to riches’ girl.

Nicole grew up with humble beginnings. She was raised by a single mom, made her way through college, landed a good job, and slowly worked her way up the ranks. Now she’s being robbed of her happily ever after by a spoiled bitch who uses the power of her dad to get what she wants. That’s how the media is spinning this bullshit.

I close my eyes willing my mind to shut down, burying the hurt that plagues me, but needing only one person to help me through it. In his absence the void expands, reminding me that I’m alone. Then it contracts leaving me vulnerable, free falling in the abyss of uncertainty.

“Baby, I’m home.”

I know I’m not dreaming because I feel his hard body press against mine, his breath fans my face as his fingers run under my night shirt. His lips kiss my neck while my thighs squeeze his hips. God, I’m dying and soaring at the same time. His heat sparks my own, starting a firestorm inside me. He’s intoxicating, an addiction my body craves.

I writhe in ecstasy overpowered by anticipation.

“I’ve missed you.”

My eyes flutter open. My mouth longs to answer back but kissing him is what my mouth craves. The moment his touches mine, my eyes close in sheer bliss as waves of urgency slam into me. I’ve missed our moments, feeling as though we’ve been separated for a lifetime. Perhaps this is what it feels like when you’re so in love. Separation feels as though it lasts forever, hours seem to go on endlessly, minutes tick by without urgency, and seconds go by painfully slow.

“I love you,” three very important words leave my lips. Words that give me a sense of peace in my otherwise troubled mind.

“Open your eyes and tell me again.”

My eyes flutter open, meeting his smiling ones. Shock registers first, and then a smile spreads across my face as I relish the enjoyment of being able to hold him. I delight in his presence, seeing his eyes dance with happiness and his cheeks flush with excitement.

“You’re here.”

“Tell me,” he gruffly says.

Without hesitation I murmur, “I love you.”

“Again.” He buries his face into my neck, giving me wet kisses.

“I love you.”

I can feel him smile against my skin. “You better not forget.” He pulls back, pain masking his face as he sits on the edge of my bed twining his fingers together. “We need to talk, you know that, right?”

And just as quickly, our moment becomes just that—only a moment.

I sit up and scoot next to him. “Okay.” He slams on the power brakes once again since the big elephant in the room couldn’t be ignored anymore.

“I know anything and everything concerning Nicole is a no go for you. She is for me too because anything that upsets you affects me, anything that hurts you hurts me. My connection with Nicole stopped when I ended it. Whatever happened between us is over. Can I erase it? I can’t. So, if I can’t change or erase it, my question to you is how are we going to deal with it? I need you to tell me what you want from me because we’re going to handle this together. I don’t want any of this ‘I’ll do this on my own’ bullshit.”

“I think my moving out is a start. I don’t think there’s anything you can do, other than maybe avoid her. Is that even something you can do since she’s with my dad most of the time? If I’m being honest, the struggle is really up here.” I tap my head.

“Come here.” He pats his lap and gives me his sexy grin as his eyes re-ignite the fire inside me.

I don’t just sit on his lap, I straddle him. I need his heat against mine, and if Sister Mary Anne, the head mistress of the all-girls Catholic school I attended is looking down on me, I would be waxing the pews right about now.

“Eyes on me.” My eyes leave his chest and find his determined ones. “Sophia, I can’t erase her from your brain, only you have the power to do that. The worst part is I’m competing with a chick. That doesn’t bode well for my dick, baby.”

“Are you trying to be funny?” I whisper with a hint of laughter in my voice.

His arms wrap around me, pulling me closer to him. He playfully grazes my nose with his, and then humor leaves his face.

“I hate she’s in there, and I hate myself for putting her there. I don’t know how to help you other than to say that the emotions I feel when my mouth touches yours is beyond any words my mind could conjure. When I hold you, I never want to let go. My brain tells me not to, but more than that my heart and soul begs me never to.
When
I make love to you, I know the love and passion that will pour out of me won’t even come close to what I felt when I fucked her. I’m ashamed to say I’ve never practice this kind of control when I’ve wanted to take a woman. When I get the urge, I normally find a willing body and take it. But with you, I know by holding off we’ll experience something special. It’ll be something that you can share only with me and me with you. I want that yearning to explode when I make love to you. I want the intensity of waiting to rock your world and mine.”

Huffing in protest I grumble, “But it’s gonna be the same whether we wait or not. The anticipation is killing me. I want to love you.” I grip his face, making him know how waiting physically hurts me.

“Baby, I want to love you, too.” His imploring eyes soften my heart and melt my resolve. “But I need to have a ring on your finger when we do.” My mouth is hanging wide open with his revelation, then he kisses me passionately and my objection to waiting flies out the window.

Safe
—that’s exactly how I feel when I’m in his arms. He’s my safety amidst the insecurities wreaking havoc on my brain. He’s indeed my shield, a forever protector in a world where chaos reigns.

Sound
—the growl escaping his mouth signifies a great need . . . his need for me. While I celebrate his reaction, I’m more relieved that he’s home, in my room, on my bed in his arms as he kisses the ever loving daylights out of me.