Page 14 of Power Games

She'd seen this conversation coming.

The previous evening had been downright stupid. Walking in with Charles was bound to make waves, because neither of them were often seen with members of the opposite sex they didn't have a clear business relationship with.

There was Isabella. There was Rob. No one cared. They wanted drama, scandals, affairs, and saw proof of that everywhere.

Of course, she and Charles had just sat down and talked at dinner. Talked, and talked, and talked. About her business and his, her music and the fact that he couldn’t sing, but still loved to in the shower. Then, about traveling, his work building infrastructures in countries that needed it, her desire to help young artists. They’d even talked politics.

To her shame, Vanessa had religiously read every article she’d found on him over the last few years, and she’d had zero idea about his political views until the previous evening. Now she knew that he was an Independent. She knew what he thought about guns, education, their military efforts around the world, and all the hard subjects.

Now, she knewhim.

And that was most definitely not helping that little crush of hers.

“Daddy dearest,” she said, though she wasn’t much of a daddy’s girl. The term had a certain flare when one wanted to add an extra layer of sarcasm. “I’m not in fifth grade anymore. I don’t likeboys.”

“Diverting, I see. He’s a good option. The self-made man, living the American dream.”

“His uncle gave him a multi-million dollar firm,” Vanessa reminded her dad. His idea of ‘self-made’ left a lot to be desired.

“Sure did, but the whole family came from nothing, and look at him now. He’ll go far, with the right support.”

A short silence followed. Vanessa was done joking now. The window in front of her reflected the image of a woman with a cold, calculating gaze. Her father was up to something, something that concerned Charles. She couldn’t put her finger on it, and not knowing was dangerous.

She’d seen what Theodore McNamara did to his enemies, sometimes to his friends. To people who didn’t fall in line.

Vanessa was lucky he’d let her do as she pleased. If he’d refused, she would never have become a singer. He got what he wanted, always, regardless of the cost. He would have paid off every studio to refuse her, bribed charts so she didn't appear anywhere, and her name would have been buried, just like that.

Theodore wasn’t asking if she liked Charles out of fatherly concern, that much was certain. He wanted to know if Charles was on their side.

If the answer was no, Charles was in danger.

Charles was too popular. Too rich. Theodore saw him as a potential threat.

Suddenly, Vanessa laughed. She knew exactly what her father was thinking about now.

“Oh, God, Daddy, there’s four years between now and the next election.”

“The presidential run starts now. The candidates may be announced in three years, but they need to get the right contacts, and start making waves stat.”

“And Charles is making waves,” she filled in.

“Big waves. Consistent waves.” Her father added, “The boy is dangerous.”

“He’ll be just thirty-six,” she snorted, “I doubt he’s thinking of presidency.”

But she bit her lip, thinking back to their chat. His views on the parties, his points on taxes, healthcare, and foreign relationships. He sounded like a frustrated man who wanted to act.

Charles cared about the world. He cared about America. He’d gone to war because helping was who he was. He might not be thinking about running now, but her father was right. He was a potential president. A good one, too. With the right people running his campaign, when he raced—if he raced—he might win.

“Tristan will be running,” she guessed.

Her brother. That had always been the plan; Theodore had groomed him for it.

But Tristan was a self-indulgent narcissist, a businessman born with a silver spoon in his hand. Worse yet, he was cruel.

Vanessa realized she could have become the same person, but she’d looked at the world around her and chosen to be more than her privileges. He hadn’t.

It didn’t matter to Theodore. He wanted either family or allies in the White House. Preferably both.

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