Page 140 of Heartless Sinner

He was the worst type of backer, in my opinion. Needy and demanding. Always wanting something in return for every dollar he handed over.

I hated donors like him.

Take, take, fucking take.

I’d told my father more than once that we needed to ditch Sterling’s money. Being in his pocket made us look bad.

Money is money.

That’d been my father’s response.

Like any good politician, I pushed my opinion aside and gave Sterling a courteous smile.

Sterling lifted his chin toward his daughter.

Rachel obediently nodded.

There it fucking is.

I didn’t bother looking at my father as he and Sterling walked away. The bastard was pimping me out for oil money.

I couldn’t even say I was surprised. I’d always known the day would come when my father decided on a wife for me. Someone with the right last name, family, connections, and enough money to help fund my future campaign.

Sterling had all that.

But it seemed my father was starting early … in hopes it’d also fund his.

I scanned the room. Every table was filled with people who’d paid a million dollars a seat to be here. Men with power. Women with power. People who wanted more of it.

I finished my champagne.

“Pretty sure that was a setup,” Rachel said with a timid laugh.

I glanced at her.

In Daphne’s words, No shit, Sherlock.

“Agreed.” I grabbed another champagne flute from a passing server.

Rachel fiddled with the stack of diamond bracelets on her wrist. One slid down her arm. She pushed it back into place, then looked around the room like a conversation starter might magically appear.

I could’ve helped her. I didn’t.

Instead, I studied her.

Pretty face. Brown hair. Nice body. Expensive jewelry.

She was beautiful.

And did absolutely nothing for me.

My brain betrayed me and started comparing her to Daphne.

They both came from money.

Both liked expensive shit.

That was about where all the similarities ended.