Chapter 1
Emma McErlane
“Everything okay, girl?” my father’s voice is sharp as I try to regain my composure. The wave of nausea seems to be waning, but I’m a little afraid to move abruptly in case it comes back. I’m fairly certain that next time I won’t be so lucky. I’ll puke all over Senator Robbins, and my father will lose his freaking mind.
“I- I’m fine, Daddy.” I swallow hard. “Just a little light-headed. Haven’t eaten since yesterday. I guess it’s catching up with me.” It isn’t a lie. I heaved my guts up this morning, and there’s been no way I’ve been able to get another morsel down since then.
“Why the hell not, stupid girl?” he snaps, then seems to think better of it. “We’ll have to take care of that, now, won’t we, lass?” His expression shifts to something more paternal. “Parker? Get the girl something to eat now. What the hell do I pay you for, man? Do you want her to die of hunger in your care?”
“Of course not, Sir! Right away, Sir!” My poor sweet Parker hops to attention. I aim apologetic eyes at him, though gratefully accept a glass of water when he flags down a passing server for me. “I’ll be right back, Miss Em. Perhaps you should sit down?” Even though he’s paid to take care of me, his concern still seems more sincere than my own father’s rough-shod attempt.
“That may not be a bad idea, Parker,” I say meekly. At least it will be a way to get the fucking senator’s hands off me. Holy shit, if he gets any closer, his dick will be grinding against my hip. I imagine a sticky precum stain on the satin, and nausea returns full tilt.
“Yes,” my father says quickly, seeing my expression grow queasy again. “I think that might be smart.” Parker hovers, seeming uncertain whether to get me to a chair or find something for me to eat. “Well, fucking get on with it, man!” Dad bellows, sending Parker scurrying. The words ring out, causing several women to give little shrieks. The crowd around us shifts away, and I’m suddenly aware of hundreds of eyes upon us. The feeling of being watched has the hairs on the back of my neck prickling.
“What the fuck are you all looking at?” my father roars, with his usual good grace. Not. The irony is not lost on me. I’d been warned to be on my best behavior to avoid embarrassing him. Yet here he is, doing a pretty good job of it himself. Within the diminishing circle, Senator Robbins gives a slightly nervous chuckle.
“Well, it wouldn’t be a good party without some voices being raised, eh?” he says jovially. I can see it’s all forced. He’s bitten off more than he can chew with my old dad, that’s for sure. But in moments, the hubbub picks up again as people lose interest in our little charade and turn back to their previous conversations.
I still can’t shake the prickling sensation of being watched, though. Perhaps it’s a pregnancy symptom? I glance around in the hope of spotting Parker coming back. He’s my only ally in all this.
And then I stop.
No. I don’t just stop. I fucking freeze.
“Emma?” I vaguely hear my father say my name. But I can’t reply.
Oh, fuck! Holy fucking fucking fuck!
Across the room, flanked by a pair of sultry beauties who seem intent on physically climbing into his well-cut tux with him still in it, is motherfucking GQ. I squeeze my eyes shut and blink hard because I’m certain I must be seeing things. But when I open them, he’s still there. Not just there, but staring back at me. My breath catches in my throat, then wheezes out as those silvery eyes lock with mine.
My cheeks burn. My chest heaves.
Breathe! I can’t fucking breathe!
“Ahhhh… So that’s how it is…”
My core muscles clench as I remember how he had me strung out like a violin string. Begging for air. Begging for pleasure.
“Oh, dear God! Now’s not the time, Emma!” I choke.
“What’s not the time, my dear?” It’s the senator. And obviously, I just said that out loud. I tear my eyes away from the tall figure moving toward us.
“Nothing! I just…I…uh…I…I…” I stutter stupidly, looking around frantically for a way to get out of here. I glance back, seeing him walking through a crowd that seems to be parting before him.
Holy fuck! There’s no escape.
“Ah, Jaysus,” my father mutters, and I realize he’s looking in the same direction.
No! He can’t know…surely? There’s no way! No fucking way he could know…
But my dad isn’t talking to me. I see his chin slant toward the ginger giant who’d manhandled me earlier. The pair of them look up, fixing their eyes on the approaching figure.
“Raoul Caraldi,” the ginger guy hisses.
What?
“What the fuck is he doing here?” my father responds.
