Chapter 14
Chapter
Fourteen
ARIANA
T he thing I realize within five minutes of our first meeting is that the Obsidian Voss I know from Midnight Manor is not the same Obsidian Voss who shows up to meetings.
Here, he’s the most charming man in the room and has everyone eating out of his hand. There’s zero trace of the predator I’ve had glimpses of. It’s not that he doesn’t seem powerful or that he’s a pushover. It’s that he knows exactly how to make people feel comfortable in his presence—in order to manipulate them into getting what he wants, all while making them think it’s their idea.
By the third meeting, I wonder why he’s not the CEO of Voss Enterprises, but then it makes sense. He’d be chained to a desk if that were the case, and the best use of his talents is out in the field, being the face of Voss Enterprises.
Each of our meetings is a chance for him to advocate for something to regulators on behalf of Voss Enterprises. Forget a team of lobbyists, Obsidian Voss is a one-man wrecking ball, destroying any arguments the other side has almost immediately, whether it be through his charm or through his intimate knowledge of the law.
If he didn’t irritate me so much with his snide remarks and his hot and cold temperament, I might find it impressive.
The official meeting has broken up, and Obsidian is doing what he does with a bunch of senators on one of the committees he spoke with today. I’m on the other side of the room, speaking to one of their aides.
Before we arrived at the first meeting today, Obsidian made it clear that my job is to be seen and not heard and to take notes. I was to agree with anything he said, and if he got stuck in a conversation with the same person for longer than five minutes before or after a meeting, I was to interrupt and feign that something urgent needed his attention. And if I see him fix his left cuff link, that’s the signal that he wants to be pulled out of the conversation, regardless of how long he’s been talking to the person.
If I’m off on my own, my instructions are to be polite, but a little aloof. According to him, people need to know that I’m loyal to the Vosses because everyone is always looking for an angle. He described DC as a shark tank with chum in the water—sometimes you’re the shark, and other times you’re the chum.
One of the senator’s aides, Brandon, and I are chatting. He seems nice enough, I guess, but I’m only half paying attention because I’m watching Obsidian, making sure he doesn’t give me the signal.
“Will you be attending the fundraiser tonight?” Brandon asks me.
I look away from my boss and at him. Brandon’s attractive. Maybe a few years older than I am, with dark blond hair and hazel eyes.
“Assuming there hasn’t been a change of plans I don’t know about, yes.” I give him a warm smile.
“Wonderful. I do hope you’ll save a dance for me then.” His eyes spark with interest.
I shift in my spot, unsure how to handle this. “I’m not sure whether Mr. Voss will need me at all, but I might be able to spare a dance. We’ll see.” There, that was noncommittal.
Brandon speaks directly into my right ear. “If things go how they usually do at these things, by ten o’clock, all the old guys will already be half drunk. When that happens, they stop talking about politics and policies and actually remember how to have a good time.”
A little uncomfortable with how close he is to me, I lean back. “Thanks for the tip.”
My gaze darts over to Obsidian, who I know is watching us, and he doesn’t look happy. It reminds me of the night he saw me with my brother. With that thought comes the memory of what happened in his car, and I have to squeeze my thighs together. Jerk.
Obsidian plays with his left cuff link. Of course he does.
“I need to go remind Mr. Voss about something. It was great meeting you. Maybe I’ll see you tonight.” A quick glance at Obsidian tells me he’s still watching from the corner of his eye.
Brandon holds my elbow. My instinct is to pull away from his touch, but I force myself not to if only for the small pleasure of knowing it will irritate Obsidian.
“Make sure to save me that dance, and if I’m lucky, maybe you’ll have a drink with me afterward.”
I smile. “We’ll see.”
Then I turn and make my way over to the group of men Obsidian is standing with. They all notice me approaching, and I’d have to be blind not to see the way they check me out as I come to stand beside Obsidian. It makes me want to gag—besides Obsidian, they’re all probably at least thirty years my senior.
He seems to notice as well because he bristles, and his expression darkens.
“Gentlemen.” I give them all a polite nod. “Mr. Voss, you have a phone call scheduled in ten minutes. I just wanted to remind you.”
He looks at me. “Thank you, Miss Clarke.” Then he returns his attention to the men he’s been holding court with. “Duty calls. Guess I’ll see most of you tonight.”
They all give a round of goodbyes, telling him it was good to see him again.
“Consider what I said,” Obsidian says before directing me out of the room ahead of him.
He doesn’t say anything to me until we’re seated in the vehicle, and he’s heading back to the hotel so we can eat dinner and get ready for the ball.
“How did you enjoy yourself today, Ariana?”
The way he asks the questions feels like a piece of cheese in a mouse trap.
“It was fine. Interesting to see how things actually get done in Washington behind the scenes.” I stare out the passenger window.
“Was there something specific you enjoyed most?”
I don’t bother turning to look at him. “Why don’t you just ask what you really want to ask?”
“Was that pissant of an aide hitting on you?” He wastes no time by continuing the game.
I roll my eyes and adjust my posture so I’m turned toward him. “What is it with you? No, he was not hitting on me.” Not much anyway.
“You sure about that?”
“Yes, I’m sure.”
“If I find out you’re lying…”
I throw up my hands. “You’ll what?”
We stop at a red light, and he uses the opportunity to look at me, his gaze intense. “You don’t want to find out.”
That makes me a little nervous. “Well, it’s a good thing he wasn’t hitting on me then, I guess.”
The light turns green, and he speeds away from the intersection.
I study myself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom and can hardly believe it’s my own reflection I’m looking at.
A professional hair and makeup artist came to the suite to help me get ready. According to Obsidian, that’s how things work in their circles. My hair has been swept up in a loose, low bun except for two pieces that frame my face, and my makeup is heavier than normal but not too much. The pink on my lips matches my dress, and the cat eye she gave me makes me look sultry.
And the dress… wow. I thought it was too much when I tried it on at home, but Marcel assured me I would fit in with everyone here. I don’t know though. There’s more cleavage than I’m used to showing. It’s bright pink silk and strapless with a dip in the center that reminds me a little of something you might find in the fifties, except that it hugs my curves past my waist, and there’s a slit over my right leg.
An impatient knock sounds on the door, and I grab the evening bag off the dresser and stride over to the door. When I open it, Obsidian takes me in from head to toe. His gaze feels like he’s brushing his knuckles down the valley of my breasts.
His eyes heat for a moment before he covers it up with indifference. “Ready?”
I hate that seeing him appreciate the way I look sends a flare of desire through my limbs. What is wrong with me that I’m still attracted to this man? Why do I yearn to please him?
“Yup, let’s go.” I walk past him toward the door of the suite. I turn to hold the door open for him, but he still stands at my bedroom door. His eyes are closed, and he’s pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you coming?”
His head snaps up, and he glares at me, then stalks toward me in his tuxedo. He looks like the epitome of a powerful, rich, hot as hell man, and I suddenly understand what people mean when they say the man wears the suit, the suit doesn’t wear the man.
It’s an effort to keep the lust warming my veins from showing on my face. Instead, I mask it with irritation. “You’re the one who wanted to go, so let’s go.”
He comes to stand with me, too close, reaching over my head and holding the heavy door open for me, then gestures out into the hall. “Ladies first.”
He’s morphing into the charming version of Obsidian. Shaking my head, I step out into the hallway. This man, I swear.
A couple hours later, I stand at the edge of the dance floor with a glass of white wine in my hand, watching as Obsidian dances with some woman he was talking to earlier. She’s clearly a fan.
When I went over to try to relieve him earlier after he’d been talking to her for longer than his prescribed five minutes, he ignored my invitation to get out of the conversation and continued speaking with her.
Whatever. He’s on his own for the rest of the night.
Her head falls back in laughter at something he says, and my hand tightens around the glass.
So far, tonight has been a fancier version of all our meetings in DC. People make promises to each other in a “you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours” sort of way. There are lots of talks about investments, the economy, and the occasional moments of gossip.
If I thought I might enjoy tonight because I’ve never been to anything like this, I was wrong. Obsidian has entirely ignored me and that rubs on the old wound left after my mom’s abandonment. Which is completely ridiculous being that I barely know the man.
“Good to see you again.”
I turn to my left and see the aide I spoke with earlier today, Brandon.
“Hey, how are you enjoying yourself?” I sip from my wine.
He shrugs. “If you’ve been to one of these, then you’ve been to them all. But my evening would get better if you gave me that dance.”
His eyes are glossy, as if he’s had too much to drink.
I’m not sure if I should dance with him. Not sure if I’m allowed to. Obsidian didn’t say whether I was actually able to enjoy myself this evening.
As soon as that thought registers, I snarl in my head. One glance at Obsidian makes my decision for me. The woman he’s dancing with whispers something in his ear, and I watch as his hand slips lower on her back.
I smile at Brandon. “I’d love to. Just let me set my wine down.”
He reaches for the glass in my hand. “I’ve got it.” He takes it from me and walks over to a nearby table, setting it near the edge. He offers me his elbow. “Shall we?”
I slide my arm through his, and he leads me onto the dance floor.
“This probably isn’t the best time to admit that I don’t know what I’m doing out here. I’m only accustomed to the kind of slow dancing you do in high school.”
Brandon chuckles and takes one hand, sliding his other one onto my back. “Follow my lead then.”
“Promise I’ll try not to step on your toes,” I say.
I fumble for the first minute, then I get the hang of it. I won’t be winning any dance competitions, but I’m not stepping on Brandon’s toes or tripping over my own feet, so I count it as a win.
“How often do you think you’ll be visiting DC now that you’re working for Voss Enterprises?” he asks.
“I’m not really sure. I expect that Mr. Voss will have me in tow whenever he needs to be here. I’m new to the corporation, so I’m not sure how often that is.”
Brandon smiles at me, gaze intent. “Probably at least once a month then. Maybe I can take you out next time you’re in town. Dinner.”
A feeling of discomfort tightens my chest, and I can’t pinpoint why exactly. But I’m a single woman, free to do what I want when I’m not being paid by Voss Enterprises, so I push away my unease and nod. “That would be nice.”
Triumph passes over Brandon’s face, and he pulls me closer to him as the song ends. Another one starts up immediately. Brandon leans into me, but someone taps my shoulder, and I turn to see Obsidian waiting and glowering.