Page 9 of Power Games

It was the very first time he’d seen her since their initial meeting, and if she’d struck him as beautiful then, she took his breath away today.

He genuinely didn’t think she’d remember him, or if she did, it would be as nothing more than a man she’d spent a couple of hours with, drinking gin and tonic before she could legally do so. Hopefully, she gave him brownie points for not telling on her.

He didn’t listen to gossips, but when Izzy had told him that Vanessa hadn’t gone to law school, he’d paid attention. He’d asked what she was doing instead. Izzy had frowned and stared at him, with good reason. She often babbled about the stuff she read in her trashy magazines. He never asked for more details.

“I think she’s gonna be a singer or something ridiculous like that. You know her kind. She’ll just do it for a year, catch the attention of an A-lister, and start popping out babies.”

Charles very much doubted just about everything in Izzy's assessment of Vanessa, but he’d let it go.

Still, he’d ordered her first album, wanting to support her launch. He’d secretly believed he'd hate it, but he'd listened to all of it the first night. Two songs had made it to his favorites playlist. It wasn’t his type of music. Alternative pop, meant to make women feel like superheroes. He didn’tdislikeit as such, but he didn’t have a vagina.

Still, her voice. God, her voice. He’d fucked a dozen women listening to her voice egging him on. Charles liked to put music on in the bedroom. He only used Vanessa's voice in the background with women who wanted a raw, hard, wild fuck.

Why was he so obsessed with that woman? No one should be able to make such a strong impression on anyone in just one night.

She was talking to a small group of people he was familiar with, Desmond King among them. The severe, clean cut, cold-eyed businessman was one of the three owners of The Tower. Charles wondered if Vanessa knew him,howshe knew him. He wondered if she'd ever knelt for him.And he also wondered why he itched to punch the man in his annoyingly perfect teeth the moment that thought had crossed his mind.

Then, Vanessa's eyes lifted, and fell on him.

Charles watched her freeze. Color drained from her face, as though she’d seen a ghost. They stared at each other for a span of time that could either be measured in nanoseconds or in decades, he didn’t know. Then, the redheaded woman to her right said her name, calling her attention away.

Vanessa smiled at him, and awkwardly waved her hand like she had months ago, when they’d parted ways. She turned away, resuming her conversation.

Charles was feeling strange, out of control, drowning. He needed air. Hell, he wouldn’t have said no to a damn cigarette, although he’d started and stopped smoking at eighteen.

At the first opportunity to slip out unnoticed, when Tristan McNamara, the host, started his main speech, he made it out to the back gardens.

A short laugh was ripped out of his throat. Of course she was here. Someone up there hated him.

“Oh. Hi!”

She felt as uncomfortable as he did, apparently.

Why? Why did she make him so damn unhinged? She should have been no one, nothing to him. He didn’t know her.

Don’t you?

“Vanessa.”

“Charles.”

And just like that, there was no denying it. They understood each other. The way her tongue wrapped around his name was so fucking familiar. They’d talked of nothing of consequence that night, but they’d connected nonetheless. That’s why she was so fucking dangerous. So fucking toxic.

He’d clicked with her, when he couldn’t click with his damn wife. Never had—not that way. His attraction to Vanessa was magnetic, all-consuming, and entirely inexplicable.

“I can go, if you want privacy.”

He was enough of a coward to see what he was doing. Finding an out. Pushing her as far away as he could because if he let her in, she’d fucking destroy him. Izzy might have hurt his pride, but Vanessa? Vanessa would obliterate his soul if he let her.

He needed to be away from her because he fucking wanted her more than his next breath. Not in the way he might have wanted a woman from The Tower—temporarily, to scratch an itch and distract himself from the emptiness of his every day.

Izzy had made him hollow. Vanessa could—would—fill the void if he let her in. He felt it. He knew it. Two hours was all it had taken for her to mark herself in his mind, body, and soul. Two hours oftalk.

“I don't. I'm just allergic to my brother's voice as soon as he starts with the political bullshit.” She took a moment to think. “Never mind. Whenever he talks.”

He sniggered. So honest and refreshing.

“Nice to see you, by the way. I thought you were based in DC.”

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