Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
TRISTAN
“Brent’s not going to leave me alone,” Daphne says for the fourth time this morning. After a night of multiple orgasms, I’m surprised she’s still talking about him.
Daphne strolls across her living room barefoot, wearing an oversized Georgetown T-shirt. One that hangs on her curvy frame, like it might have belonged to an ex.
Nope. I’m not going to think about that. Not my business what she got up to before we met. Besides, she’s still walking bow-legged this morning thanks to me. T-shirt guy can go jump in the Potomac for all I care.
Hawkeye trails at her heels with the toy alligator in his mouth before he plops himself down on the tops of my feet. Daphne sets her mug on the coffee table beside my laptop.
“Daph, I promise he’s going to leave you alone.”
Her eyebrow rises as she scrutinizes me. “How can you be sure?”
“I have my plans for Brent. I just need the right time to execute them. For now, I threatened him and told him that if he even implies he saw you at the club, then I’d kill him and make it hurt.”
Daphne shakes her head, disappointment painted over her face like she’d been hoping for more. “He’s in politics, Tris. He gets threats all the time.”
“In person?”
Daphne shrugs. “It happens more often than you’d think. Besides, he has money. He could hire protection. A bodyguard or a P.I.”
“I wiped the club’s system,” I remind her. “There are no traces of any of us being there. He doesn’t know who I am.”
Daphne pinches the bridge of her nose. “That’s all the more reason for him to hire someone.
” She shifts on the couch and tucks her feet under her.
“You do know he’s your best chance at stopping the bill in the Senate?
He’s influential, and if his party rallies behind him, the Senate won’t have the votes to pass it.
That’s why my parents were trying to get me to talk to him.
They thought I could use my feminine wiles to convince him to rally his party in Dad’s favor.
” Even though she rolls her eyes at her own words, the thought of Daphne being prostituted out by her own parents makes my blood boil.
I haven’t struck Grover Fox from my kill list yet. And every time Daphne talks about her parents, I’m tempted to add Grace, too, for good measure.
Why is she so damn protective of them? Sure, they’re her parents, but they loathe her. If she said the word, I’d raise Grover to the top of my kill list. I made a promise, but the more I learn about her parents, the more I can’t figure out why she wants me to keep it.
“There are other ways to stop the bill.” I don’t know what they are, but I’ll sure as hell find any other way if it means protecting Daphne from Brent.
“I’m not letting him breathe a second longer than necessary.
” It was so damn tempting to kill him yesterday—to slide a shiny piece of glass across his throat and watch him bleed out on a Persian rug that cost more than my first car.
But I can’t wipe traffic cameras and CCTV footage across the entire city.
There would be a federal manhunt if a senator was murdered in a country club—and I couldn’t risk putting Daphne in their crosshairs.
Hawkeye takes the lull in conversation as an invitation. He launches himself onto my lap, oblivious to the tension shifting between his mom and dad right now as his alligator squeaks in his jaws.
“I’ll do it soon,” I promise. “But it’s risky. I need to get the timing right.”
“How long does it take you to plan something like this?” There’s an innocence in her voice that doesn’t match the energy she’s giving off, like she’s trying to logic me into a corner to give her the date of Brent’s demise.
Being attracted to smart women is rough.
“It depends.” I keep my answer vague. “I need to confirm his schedule. Hack into his phone. Check his calendar, his living arrangements, and his security detail. Everything. I can’t make a mistake. And you’re right. He might hire extra protection, so I’ll need to see what his next moves are.”
Daphne’s shoulders slump in dissatisfied resignation.
“What happened between the two of you?” I ask. The question’s been gnawing at me since we made our arrangement in my basement, and I thought I’d find answers, but there’s nothing. Not a police report. Not a social media post. Not a text exchange or a trail of phone calls.
“He raped me.” She speaks the words so monotone and matter-of-factly that it’s robotic.
While I had a suspicion that something like that happened, having it so bluntly confirmed shocks my system.
Scooping Hawkeye up, I lift him in my arms and scooch over to Daphne’s side of the couch. I deposit our happy furball beside me and pull Daphne onto my lap and into my arms.
Her muscles are stiff for a moment until she relaxes and snuggles against me. She settles her head in the crux of my neck. The sweet vanilla smell of her perfume tickles my nose until it gives way to a warm, feminine undertone that’s distinctly Daphne.
“We met at a charity auction last year. He’s ten years older than me, and I thought he was charming.
He was so easygoing and fun to be around.
We went out on a couple of dates, enough for tabloids to pick up on it.
The President’s Daughter and the youngest senator in America. It was a political Hallmark movie.”
Her tone tenses as she continues. “One night when we were at my place, we had a couple of drinks—just two. I don’t remember anything halfway through that second glass.
It was like I went to sleep, but when I woke up, I was sore.
My muscles hurt. I felt stretched out down there.
” She points to her thighs and shudders.
“I knew he did something. And it burned. I don’t think he used any lube.
It hurt for days. But the details were fuzzy, and I couldn’t remember exactly what happened. It was a blur. He drugged me.”
Her rapist drugged her.
And, goddamn, I feel like the biggest schmuck in the world for spiking her drink at the bar.
“I’m so sorry, Daph.” I press a kiss to the top of her head. That light contact is more for me than for her. I need to ground myself before guilt consumes me. “I had no idea.”
A puff of air escapes her like a sarcastic laugh. “How could you? Between his family and mine, they made sure no one found out.”
“Your family?” Unease pricks at my skin. I don’t like where this is going.
“I didn’t know who else to go to. My friends would have tweeted about it, not like they’re really my friends.
I was raised around politicians and their kids, so no one genuinely cared about me.
They wanted to get closer to Dad. So, I went to the only people I thought might defend me.
” Daphne’s voice tightens. “Mom blamed me. She said I’d gotten drunk, and it was my fault.
She refused to let me go to a hospital to get tested.
I had to go to a CVS for a Plan B pill the next day.
Dad’s private physician came to the White House to draw blood for an STD check.
I had another one done a couple of months later with a different doctor, without them knowing.
I was clean both times. But I couldn’t go to the hospital after it happened. Or the police.”
Her parents sided with her rapist? “What did your Dad say?”
“He believed me at first.” The corner of her lip tugs in the faintest of smiles.
“He was ready to kill Brent. He demanded that Brent come over and explain himself. Of course, Brent lied and said we’d both been drinking.
That I’d come onto him. He said I’d stripped out of my clothes when he was in the bathroom, and when he came back downstairs, I was lying down with my legs up in the air.
He told them I said he could pick which hole.
The next morning, he said he wasn’t ready to take our relationship to the next level and go fully public, so I flipped out and said I’d tell everyone he’d raped me.
” Daphne winces, and she shakes ever so slightly in my arms. “I’d never… ”
“I believe you.” My arms tighten around her, wishing that I could soothe her somehow.
I want to ask ‘How could he do something like that?’ but I’m not na?ve, and Daphne shouldn’t shoulder the responsibility of answering a question like that.
Brent’s the type of person used to getting his way and knows how to manipulate people.
He didn’t become the country's youngest senator by sheer luck. No, he’s conniving and sneaky. Daphne was collateral damage to him.
She clears her throat. “After Brent said that stuff, Dad believed him. Then Dad accused me of trying to sabotage another man’s career because I couldn’t handle rejection. Mom encouraged him and made it so much worse.”
A tear slips down Daphne’s cheek until it stops at her chin.
“I thought someone would believe me. But my parents threatened to cut me off if I told anyone. They couldn’t have a story like that leaked to the public right before Dad announced his run for a second term.
Now everything’s been about his fucking campaign.
I was too upset to do anything, so I shut down.
I stayed in my house and read books about guys who don’t act like Brent.
It was the only way I could survive those first few months. ”
Daphne sniffles. My fingers brush aside the tears streaking along her damp cheeks. “When I finally felt human again, I adopted Hawkeye. Someone who would love me totally, and I could devote my full attention to and love back.”
I murmur into her hair. “I’m so sorry no one believed you. And I’m sorry your parents didn’t stand up for you.”
It’s moments like this when I wish Dad were still alive. He’d be the type of man to believe Daphne. He was always strong and protective, especially over Tessa. To have a parent who doesn’t defend you but instead shames and blames you… It’s so vile that I can’t fully comprehend it.
“Why do you still talk to them? It’s horrible the way they treat you.” Sure, she doesn’t need me stating the obvious, but I wonder if it’s obvious to her. How could someone tolerate being the emotional punching bag for not just one but both parents?
“Money, mostly,” she admits with a sniffle.
“And it wasn’t always so bad growing up, you know.
Dad and I had a little nightly ritual growing up.
After dinner, he’d put on M*A*S*H* and have a beer.
He’d make me a glass of chocolate milk, and we’d sit down and watch two episodes before bed.
That’s the Dad I remember when I think about him.
Like, somewhere deep down in there is a father who loved his kids.
I don’t even recognize him these days. Hell, sometimes I wonder if I made those memories up. ”
The pinks of her tear-filled eyes rim the bright blue irises. My heart aches from the pain clouding her eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” I say again as I press a kiss to her forehead.
I’m so much more than sorry, but this moment isn’t about me, and I can’t find the words to express what I’m feeling right now.
Anger. Sadness. Hatred. A loathing so deep it scorches my bones.
And gratitude. Grateful that Daphne felt safe enough to finally open up and tell me about her past. “I’m sorry it took me this long to do anything about Brent.
I’m sorry I drugged you. I’m so fucking sorry, Daph. ”
My voice cracks, and tears burn the corners of my eyes. I blink them away, but she still sees them.
“You didn’t know.”
That fact doesn’t absolve my guilt.
I don’t know what I can do to make things right for her, but maybe fulfilling my broken promise is a step towards helping her heal. I can give that to her at least.
“I’ll take care of Brent. Tonight.”