Chapter Thirteen Karmen
The band begins playing an instrumental rendition of George Michael’s “One More Try” as Benson’s arm circles my waist, pulling me in close. The instant our bodies connect, my body heats up, desire coiling in my lower belly. His familiar scent is intoxicating.
“You’re pretty good at this,” I say.
He chuckles softly. “My mom made it a point to make sure all her boys knew how to lead a lady around the dance floor.”
“She sounds like an incredible woman.”
He smiles affectionately. “The best.”
“I’d love to meet her someday.”
His throat bobs as he swallows, scanning the room. “Tell me about this idea of yours,” he demands, arm tightening around my waist, pulling me closer.
“My father has a safe. I discovered it back in high school while snooping through his office. If he’s hiding something, I have no doubt it will be in there.”
“And what do you expect to do, just walk in while he’s not home and break into the safe?”
I smile wickedly. “No need to break in when I have the code.”
Benson raises a brow. “And how, might I ask, did you discover it?”
“It only took one try to figure out it was his date of birth.”
He shakes his head. “Jesus, he can’t be that stupid.”
I continue.
“My parents always stay in the penthouse here when they have the gala, so no one will be there tonight.”
“Security?” he asks.
“Let me handle that.”
“Karmen,” he growls, fingers digging into my waist.
My breath catches in my throat. “Can’t you just let me be in charge for once?”
The corner of his mouth hooks into a devilish grin. “Yeah, but only after I know every detail so I can keep you safe.”
I smile, knowing he can’t help himself, so I don’t even bother arguing with him.
“There is only one guard on duty at the gate after eleven tonight. I’ll tell him I didn’t feel like driving home, so I’m staying at my parents’ house for the night.”
“He won’t call your father to confirm?”
“Not with my powers of persuasion, he won’t.”
He raises a brow. “That being?”
“They’re called tits, Benson.”
His jaw ticks, body tense with anger.
“Chill out. He’s had a thing for me since he started working for my dad a few years ago.” I shrug. “I’ll just use that to our advantage.”
“A thing?”
“He’s asked me out a couple of times.”
“And you said no?”
“I said no.”
“Why?”
I swallow thickly, averting my gaze. “Because I’m still not over my ex.”
He stops moving altogether, his chest moving up and down rapidly. “You haven’t been with anyone since me?”
I shake my head.
“Fuck me,” he growls, holding me tighter.
I had tried on more than one occasion, but the truth was, he ruined me for anyone else. No one would ever come close to giving me what I needed physically, much less emotionally.
A storm of emotions crosses his face at my confession—shock, disbelief, and something darker—but it’s the possessive glint in his eyes that sets my body ablaze.
There’s a tap on my shoulder, breaking our tension-filled moment. Benson shifts me to his side; his arm still wrapped protectively around my waist.
Inhaling a deep breath, I brace myself.
“Mother,” I greet as she surveys us, a glass of champagne clutched in her delicate hand that does nothing more than carry around a three-carat diamond all day.
“Hello, darling. I don’t think I’ve met your friend.”
“Benson Cunningham. Pleasure to meet you,” Benson says, extending his hand, but she looks at it as if touching him would be beneath her social status.
She gives him a saccharine smile, placing her hand in his. That fake smile disappears the moment her attention swiftly swings back to mine. “You’re needed for the family photo.”
“Is that really necessary?”
“Of course it’s necessary. Hurry along now. You don’t want to keep him waiting.”
I exhale deeply. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” Benson assures me, his arm reluctantly dropping from around my waist.
I follow my mother to the edge of the stage where my father is waiting.
He greets me with a kiss to the cheek before he whispers, “Don’t embarrass me.”
I don’t respond. Instead, I put on my plastic smile.
The one I’ve perfected over the years. Several photographers snap photos, and his charming smile doesn’t falter until the final flash fades.
Then his hand closes tightly around my upper arm, not hard enough to bruise but enough to remind me that he holds all the power in this room.
He guides me off the ballroom floor to an alcove behind the stage, then releases me.
“How dare you bring that criminal to my event?” he says in a low tone edged with warning.
My muscles tense. “He’s not a criminal.”
“I would bet the next election that he is,” he says with the practiced tone of a man who’s shredded his opponents in public debates and Senate hearings without even raising his voice.
“He’s under investigation and suspended from the department, and you’re parading him around as your date.
Congratulations—you’ve just made yourself an accomplice. ”
His voice drops even lower, more menacing.
“Not to mention you resigned from your job because of him. What the hell are you thinking?”
My pulse hammers in my veins. “I don’t expect someone like you to understand the definition of loyalty or trust.”
He steps into me, nostrils flaring. “Your loyalty belongs to me. You showing up with him is like a slap in the fucking face.”
“Everything okay here?” Benson asks, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a sharpened blade.
One step, and Benson is standing partially in front of me, shielding me from the verbal assault while I work to compose myself.
My father’s gaze snaps to Benson’s, flashing with cold fury. “This is a private conversation.”
Benson doesn’t move a muscle. “Not anymore. Whatever you have to say to her, you can say it to me, and choose your words carefully, Senator. I have nothing to lose when it comes to defending someone I care about. Can you say the same?”
Shock flickers on my father’s face. He’s not used to anyone speaking to him like that. He scans the area around us, ensuring no one is around. After several silent seconds, he schools his features.
Benson’s mouth curves into a grin. “That’s what I thought.” He reaches for my hand, his comforting grip warm and firm as he murmurs, “Let’s go.”
We barely clear the hallway when he shoulders through an unlocked door marked Private, ushering me into a low-lit lounge hidden off the ballroom.
Once the door shuts behind us, Benson is pinning me to the wall, his large body caging mine.
He reaches for my free hand, uncurling it from the fist I’ve been making, inspecting the purple half-moons lining my palms with careful consideration.
His soft blue eyes meet mine. “Talk to me,” he commands gently.
“I hate him,” I grit out, trying to rein in my fraying emotions.
He presses a warm kiss to my palm, forcing a heated breath from my lips.
“He’s a shitty father,” I add.
Another warm kiss to my wrist, his soft lips on my skin dissolving my anger.
His other hand moves to the back of my neck as he lowers his head, bringing his mouth close to mine. “I get it now,” he says, his thumb moving across my jaw. My body tingles, heat flooding my core.
“Get what?” I breathe.
“Why you left me,” he says, dropping his forehead to mine. “No one has ever chosen you first, have they?” His mouth is a breath from my lips as his grip tightens on the back of my neck. “Until me. I chose you first. I wanted you above all else. And that’s what scared you.”
My breath hitches. The truth of his words is like a punch to the chest. He’s right.
No one has ever chosen me first. Certainly not my parents, who have always put power, prestige, and their reputation before me.
They like the idea of me, of what I can give them, the image of the perfect family, but I’ve often wondered if they truly love me at all.
His expression softens as his gaze holds mine. “But here’s the thing, baby. I’ll always choose you. No matter what. Before my badge, my career. My fucking life. I’ll always choose you.”
Tears sting my eyes as his lips crash against mine, hungry.
Possessive.
He deepens the kiss, his hot tongue claiming me all over again.
The hand clutching the back of my neck moves to wrap around my throat, squeezing just enough to make my head spin as his other hand grips my hip, his erection pressing into my lower belly.
My nipples harden, core aching with unchecked need.
He tears his lips from mine, his hot mouth moving across my jaw to the sensitive spot just below my ear.
“Do you have any idea how bad I want you right now? How much I want to take back what’s always been mine?”
“Yes,” I say, breathless. “Please.”
My heart is pounding wildly, a thrill of hope rushing hot through my veins.
Benson wants me. He wants me back. I never allowed myself to imagine what it would be like to belong to him again.
I convinced myself long ago that I ruined us forever, that the way I broke him was something he would never forgive.
The urge to drop to my knees and confess every regret burns through me.
I want to show him how sorry I am. I want him to punish me for it in all the ways only he can.
I want to surrender to him, but this time, completely.
I have no idea how to say any of that out loud.
Before I can even make the attempt, the door swings open and Benson quickly drags me into the shadowed corner. My back collides with his chest, his arm wrapping protectively around my waist.
“I thought you said he wasn’t going to be a problem.
” Benson stiffens behind me, and my eyes flare as I recognize my father’s voice.
The lounge is so dark—I can’t see his face—but I would recognize that cold, clipped tone anywhere.
“Then why is he here tonight? With my daughter? Do you know how that looks?” A sharp pause.
“I want him eliminated, do you understand? Tonight.”
My breath becomes sharp and uneven as I move to step forward, to confront him, but Benson’s arm tightens around my waist, a band of unyielding strength, keeping me pinned against him.
“You’d better,” my father continues, his voice hard and lethal, “because if this blows back on me, you’ll be the one floating in the Potomac. Are we clear?”
The call ends. A beat later, the door slams shut, and he’s gone.
My breathing turns jagged as Benson slowly releases me. I spin to face him. Fury burns across his face—matching my own—along with the deadly sting of betrayal.
His jaw flexes. “If I didn’t have a target on my back before,” he says darkly. “I sure as hell do now.”