Whispers on the Potomac_Room 312 Read online

  “Yes. We dated a while back, after your father died. He’s an old friend and someone you’ll need for this campaign.” Dated? The idea of my mother dating, and probably sleeping with him, is not the picture I want painted in my mind before meeting him.

  “Mother please, I don’t want to have that image in my head tonight. Or any night, actually.”

  There’s a knock at the door and we both turn to see who’s there.

  “Come in.”

  “It’s a mad house out there.” It’s Annalise again.

  “What are you two talking about now?” she smiles, snuggling her warm and soft body next to me. Any guy in my shoes would be overjoyed to be with a woman like Annalise. I’m thrilled to be with her tonight; however, someone from my past is rattling my thoughts. Someone I long to see, and be with me on this most important night of my life so far. Growing somber, I shake the memory of her out of my head.

  “My mother’s dating life, which I don’t care to think about.”

  “Sebastian, stop. Your mom is hot. Men look at her all the time.”

  My mom spins around on her heels.

  “You’re damn right I’m hot. That’s where you get your gorgeous looks. It wasn’t from your father. Remember, you’re looking at Miss Pennsylvania 1970.” How can anyone forget when she reminds us every chance she gets.

  Walking back to her desk, she downs the third and final martini, pats her hair lightly, and looks at herself in the full-length mirror.

  “I’m going to make sure no one is messing things up, and I’ll see you two downstairs.” She walks up to me and strokes my cheek, like she has always done. She’s not the overly affectionate type, yet her love for me is always felt.

  “This is your night, Sebastian. I believe in you or this wouldn’t be happening. Make this night the first step to the presidency.” She walks out of her office and quietly shuts the door.

  I turn to Annalise, walking up to her, thinking about fucking her bent over my mom’s desk. Her ass in that dress has my cock on high alert and a quick release will calm my nerves before we head out.

  “I’ve wanted you for about an hour now. It’s driving me out of my mind, knowing you’re bare under that dress. Let me touch you and make you come. I want you wet when we walk out there.”

  “Has anyone ever said no to you, Sebastian?” Her moistened lips brush my ear.

  My hand slides up her dress and before I can answer, there’s another knock on the door. Removing my hand with a deep sigh as Annalise settles her dress, we both speak. “Come in.”

  Mother’s housekeeper of thirty years, Crina, walks in to clean up the martini glasses. She smiles at me. “I’m sorry, Sebastian. I didn’t think anyone was in here. I’ll come back later,” she says, turning to leave.

  “Crina, don’t go.”

  Remembering the care and love she showed me as a little boy, I walk up to her, taking her hand and gently kissing the top.

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?” Her Romanian accent is still thick, though she has lived in America for over forty years.

  “For always being here. I’m glad you’re here to take care of my mother; though, you know the offer still stands if I get into the White House. You would make me one happy man if you come with me.”

  She smiles at me and pats my face. “You’re my favorite boy and you have become an amazing man, Sebastian, but your mother would be lost without me.”

  “Not even if I move you into the White House with your husband?” She moves her hand off my face and smiles.

  “I’ll think about it, Sebastian. Now get down there and start showing them what a wonderful man you are. I want my Sebastian to become the next president.” She turns and walks out, carrying the martini glasses. As the door closes, I turn back to Annalise, grabbing her ass, “Now, where were we?”

  2

  Sebastian

  It’s after seven and the party is in full swing. The band is playing, drinks are flowing, and limousines are continuously pulling up to the entrance. The lawn is covered with Washington’s elite, dancing, laughing, and making promises - most to be forgotten by the morning. Standing amongst familiar - and many unfamiliar - faces, this is my type of party as I’ve been attending them since I was old enough to speak. Always dreaming one day the party would be for me, tonight my dream is a reality. People are calling my name, wanting my attention, and congratulating me as they walk in.

  My eyes lock onto the person standing at the entrance as the hair rises on the back of my neck, and a sudden intrusion of longing sweeps over me. Trying to look away, my gaze remains transfixed on only her. I blink and try to refocus. My brain is saying it’s not her; however, my eyes aren’t lying. There’s no way she can be here, walking in with my brother. Everything around me seems to happen in slow motion. The room begins to spin, and I grab my drink, downing the whiskey in one slow gulp. The burn down my throat and into my chest brings me back to reality. It’s been six years since last laying eyes on Daria Stewart, and I’d come to believe I would never set eyes on her again.

  Of course, Garrison’s acting cool and smooth, nodding his head at various people as my eyes dart between them. This is his usual demeanor at professional type functions. He knows how to talk to people, what to say, and when to say it. If he wasn’t such a junkie, he’d make an incredible politician. But I know the real him, and the real Garrison doesn’t deserve to be in the same room as Daria, let alone call her his friend. Schlepping up to me, his arm is wrapped around her waist so tight; she looks as if she’s a hostage forced to be here. Appearing shy and unsure, her eyes are cast downward. Years ago, she was boisterous, opinionated, and confident. What the hell happened to her? Why is she acting like this? As she moves closer, my attention is glued to this magnificent woman standing in front of me. As if the outside world is happening around me in a dream, all I can concentrate on is her beauty and aura. How in the world did she come across my brother? Am I dead and in hell? Hallucinating? Dreams of her - walking up to me, telling me she’s back, and she needs me - interrupt my sleep most nights, but not once in those dreams is my brother ever involved.

  He introduces us and her name is all that’s heard. Daria Stewart has been stuck in my head for the past six years. It’s the name I obsessively googled, trying to find her for two of those years, always to a dismal end. My eyes slide over her, noticing she’s still stunning beyond words. The smoky hue of her eyes that change colors depending on her mood, the crimson red color of her lips, slightly parted as if she will break out in a smile at any time, and legs that go on forever; in that quick second, I can still remember how smooth her porcelain skin felt under my hands. Not one flaw or imperfection, even after so many years, looking the same as she had the last time I saw her. That day is forever ingrained in my memory and one of the saddest.

  Daria arrived to work earlier than expected. She bursts into my office, telling me she’s leaving and our relationship is over, completely catching me off guard.

  “What do you mean, you’re leaving and we’re over? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” Plans were being made for a surprise trip to Barbados in a month. Tears veiled her face as she cries more. I try to reach for her and hold her in my arms while she sobs, but her rigid body jerks away from me.

  “Don’t, Sebastian. Please, just don’t.” There’s a bit of anger in her voice.

  I pull her to me and my mouth goes to hers, thinking she will surrender to my kiss. My girl pushes me away.

  “Let me go, Sebastian. I need to get away for a while. It’s for the best.”

  My body freezes and my thoughts race. Did I fuck up? Did I do something to hurt her?

  “It’s for the best? Daria, tell me what’s wrong. We can fix this, whatever this is. I can fix it.”

  She shakes her head no. “You can’t fix this. No one can fix this. No, I must leave. This isn’t fair to you.”

  “What isn’t fair to me? I don’t understand. Just tell me what you’re talking about.”r />
  Reaching for her again, she backs up against the door throwing her hands up. As if to have one more look at me, she wipes her eyes, hesitating, and this time she walks out of my office and doesn’t look back. People are coming in for the day now, and running after her isn’t an option. I let her go, stunned and crushed.

  I attempt to call her, only to discover her phone has been disconnected. Driving by her condo after work, her car isn’t parked in its usual spot. When she doesn’t show up for work the next day, I realize she’s left for good. Something snaps in me, absorbing my pain; my confidence was shaken. For the first time, my heart is broken and I don’t know how to go on without her. Missing her in my arms, making love to me with desperation, knowing I may never see her again, and not understanding why she left, triggers something desolate in me. Hopelessness takes over, and I become broken. If Daria couldn’t be mine, I didn’t want anyone. She was my air I needed to breathe and without her, I would suffocate. I turn inward and keep to myself, only allowing a few people inside.

  Burying myself in my work, I’m relentless to keep her out of my mind as much as possible. It takes a while before the pain of losing her eases, but only slightly. The thought of touching another woman sickened me for a year, and it’s taken longer to even consider a relationship with someone. The detective I hired couldn’t track her down, and told me to forget her and move on. It was as if she dropped off the face of the earth and was lost forever.

  Daria is the woman I thought about earlier while I was dressing, and she’s the last person I ever expected to be at the unveiling of my run for the presidency. However, here she is, making this night even more magnificent.

  Tonight, she’s wearing a simple, yet classy light pink dress. The color looks amazing against her skin and the hem skims just above her knees. Catching a whiff of her perfume, it instantly arouses me. My senses are hypnotized in seconds. Remembering how she tasted and how her clit quivered on my tongue, I lick my lips. Beads of sweat form over my brow, and I snatch a napkin off the bar to quickly wipe it away as the bartender hands me another drink. Closing my eyes and opening them again, I’m hoping she won’t be as captivating. Our gazes meet, and she’s just as breathtaking. An undying urge to touch her sweeps over me, and I clench my glass tighter.

  “Congressman Reed, it’s been a long time.” Dear God. Her angelic voice has never left my head. I thought I’d never hear her speak again.

  My brother’s eyes flash between the two of us. “Wasn’t she one of your interns?” he nervously chuckles. The sound of his voice irritates the fuck out of me.

  “Yeah,” I snap at him quickly, but I haven’t taken my eyes off Daria.

  “Hello, Daria. What a surprise. How have you been?” I still, waiting for her to respond.

  “Good, I’ve been good. I’m here visiting my family for a couple of weeks. My parents are retired and live in the country now, however they left their condo to me.”

  Visiting from where? I want to scream. There is so much to ask her.

  The memories deluge me, and I’m chilled to my core.

  Without thinking clearly, I ask, “When did you meet up with my brother?” I’d introduced them once and did my best to keep him away from her. Thankfully, for some reason, he never bothered with her. She stiffens at my question, hesitates, and opens her mouth to speak as Garrison cut her off.

  My brother anxiously laughs. “I think you need to answer me first. Wasn’t she your intern a few years ago?” What the hell is Garrison’s problem? I already answered him, and he knew she worked for me.

  Not peeling my eyes off Daria - I’m afraid to look away, because what if her standing here is a dream or a hallucination? - I speak to my brother. “She worked in my office when I was a lawyer and ran for Congress. You should know that, Garrison. You were always around, sniffing after my interns.” His response is to laugh again.

  Many times, in the wee hours of the morning, I wake from dreaming, enveloped in sweat and clawing at the sheets with her in my thoughts. The women I fuck, including Annalise, are stand-ins for her and no one comes close. Giving up any hope of laying eyes on her again, how fitting that on the most important night of my political career, she stands here, within reach.

  Garrison lets her go and gives me a squeeze on my shoulder. “Small world, big brother. Daria, tell him how we met.” My teeth grind together as outrage begins to brew inside me at his demeanor and behavior.

  Daria forces a smile, showing me her perfect white teeth, and then she laughs. Her deep and throaty laugh used to make my dick throb, along with everything else about her. Tonight, it has the same effect on me.

  “I’m living in Paris, renting an apartment. One morning, running late for work, a car is parked behind mine, blocking me in. I fly into a tirade, knocking on doors, trying to find out whose car it is.” She giggles nervously.

  She’s living in Paris. Who would have thought she moved to Europe, of all places... and why?

  “Yeah, here I am, sound asleep. She comes pounding on my door, dude. I swung it open, ready to clobber whoever was standing outside, until I remember her from your office.” My anger is beginning to surface more as my brother keeps talking. He needs to shut up and let her talk.

  “When he told me who he was, I couldn’t believe it. Garrison told me some stupid joke in bad French, and made me laugh. We struck up a friendship, and it was nice to have someone from the States so close in a strange city. He reminds me a lot of you, Congressmen.” Standing here, being tortured by this fake and possibly rehearsed performance, I can feel something is different about her. She’s more grown up, of course, and maybe a bit somber.

  My eyes roam the room again and they meet Annalise’s. She’s with a group of other women, talking, and gives me the look to mingle. She’s right, even though walking away from Daria is not something I want to do.

  “It’s nice seeing you again, Daria. Maybe we can catch up later; however, right now I need to mix it up with the big wigs.” Fuck, I don’t want to leave her. I stand frozen, my heart pounding. She nods her head in agreement and her phone rings. Answering it, she gestures to Garrison to hold on a minute, and steps away. I watch her smile, throw her head back, and laugh. Who is she talking to? This familiar intense craving in my soul rages through me. What the hell is happening? I can’t afford to be distracted by the past, tonight of all nights. Daria Stewart shouldn’t matter to me anymore. It’s another time, and a chapter in my life that’s closed. Why do I care who she’s talking to? Hell, she’s the one who walked out on me and hid for years. Forcing myself to remember why I’m here, I pull my mind out of my troubled thoughts.

  Giving her one last look, our gazes meet again. I wink at her and walk away. Before the night is over, I must be alone with her to know more about why she left me. Where she’s been for six years and how did she end up in Paris?

  It’s rather absurd that earlier, I daydreamed about her by my side, introducing her as the future First Lady. Wishing to share my accomplishments with her and take her with me on my journey to the White House, has left me feeling empty and out of sorts. Daria used to be my support and motivation to keep moving forward. How I made it this far without her is nothing short of a miracle. Over the years, a defensive macho attitude pushed my thoughts of her deep inside. Coming undone now is not an option.

  My focus must be on the campaign and winning the presidency. Shit, if the press gets a hold of this and my past with her, my bid for president will be short-lived. I should walk away from her and not look back, but that isn’t going to happen. Now that she’s here, the need for her is greater than ever. No one has had me so undone like she has. I table my thoughts as Annalise approaches me.

  “Hey, babe. Garrison’s friend is gorgeous.” Watching Daria still on her phone and laughing, I’m not looking at Annalise.

  “Yeah, not what I expected from him.”

  “Maybe he’s truly a new man.”

  “No, he’s not. I’m sure he’s the same old Garrison. Something d
oesn’t feel right about this.” Finally prying my eyes off Daria, I give my full attention to Annalise, not wanting to inform her Daria was once my intern and that we had a past.

  Annalise pulls me away from the bar. “Come with me. I want you to meet someone you can use for Homeland Security. I’ve known him over ten years. You can’t stand by the bar the entire time; you have to hobnob.”

  “Hobnob?” I laugh.

  “That’s what the evening is about. You need to hobnob. You know, work the room.”

  I speak to a couple of lobbyists and joke with the CEO of an oil company. Knowing Daria is in the same room as me, a shot of adrenaline takes over, and I’m recharged and on my game.

  Mother approaches me later in the night, along with a waiter and drinks. Refusing, I ask him to bring me a glass of water.

  “Well, what do you think of Garrison’s friend? Is she another piece of trash I need to get rid of? She’s prettier than anyone he has brought around. What’s this friend thing?” my mom asks.

  Loosening my tie, the waiter comes up to me with a glass of ice water. I drink half of it before speaking.

  “She was my intern, back when I ran for Congress. Not the usual type for Garrison, so I’m pretty sure she’s only a friend.”

  My mom looks puzzled. “Your intern? How did he meet up with her? That seems very odd.”

  I shrug my shoulders and pretend not to be bothered by her presence. “He said he moved into her apartment building in Paris and it’s a small world, or something like that.” My mom’s comment has me second-guessing how they did meet. Why now? After all these years, why does she want to see me now? Stranger things have happened. Maybe it’s fate and the stars were aligned just right. Who the hell knows.

  I don’t tell my mother about my relationship with Daria, only that she worked for me. No one knows about us and they wouldn’t understand. I’m much older than her. Ten years, to be exact. If anyone would’ve found out, my political career would have been ruined. I took my chances falling in love with her and she was worth every chance.