Page 34 of Power Games

Cici wasn't biting. "Ah! Is it dear Aiden? I know that guy had the biggest crush on you after you removed your braces, but you didn't seem interested—"

"I am not interested in anyone!" she whisper-shouted, willing the ground to open up beneath her feet and swallow her whole.

The gods of heaven and hell must have heard her plea because Wright, Junior walked to the middle of the room with a microphone in hand.

"Ladies, gentlemen! Welcome, welcome. You all look incredibly handsome this evening, and you all have your purses with you. Now, that's what we like to see."

A few people chuckled.

"As you know, tonight we're here to support the men and women who fought for our country, our freedom, and our values. Too often we hear of veterans who struggle to find work, or struggle to integrate themselves into our society once they're back from duty. Too often," he repeated, with some feeling. "There are numerous non-profits to help them. Tonight, I hope that with your generous donations, we can make a difference by supporting three of them."

He introduced the charities and announced that the first course was served.

This type of events always had seating charts. Following Cici to their table, Vanessa heard her heart beat at a thousand miles an hour. Please, please, please, let Charles and Isabella be seated elsewhere.

She wasn't a coward. Not where a lot of things were concerned. The exception was him.

A year ago, after breaking up with her fake boyfriend, Vanessa had attempted to date, to prove to her friends that she was just fine, normal, and definitely not in love with Charles Grant.

In the last twelve months, she'd gone on seventeen dates. Seventeen. All with perfectly suitable, very attractive men. Some of them were even capable of engaging her in a conversation that hadn't made her want to gouge her eyes out or fake a broken leg to escape.

And each one of them had left her entirely cold. Seven of them had kissed her goodnight, and what had she felt when her lips had touched theirs? Absolutely nothing four times, and a mild disgust three times. In contrast, Charles' hand on hers, on her back, on her cheek, had made her freeze, lose her balance, and explode a little bit inside. When he kissed her cheeks, her heart almost flew out of her chest.

It was fucked up on a serious level, but she did have some very, very strong feelings for that man. That married man. So, she purposely stayed the fuck away from him. Trying to cut him out of her life wasn't going to work. He would ask why she didn't want to talk to him anymore, and that would just become messy. She still took his calls. And yes, she called him, too, when she found some stuff that could help him, because she couldn't help herself. She wanted, needed to help him achieve his goals.

She needed him to be happy.

Yes. There was something fundamentally wrong with her.

It wasn't just that. She'd unwillingly been in politics her entire life, and in close to three decades, she'd never met a man more suited for public office. More deserving of it. A man who'd challenge their way of life.

She took her place at one of the twenty-five round tables that seated sixteen guests. Vanessa unfolded her napkin and placed it in her lap before engaging Cici in a conversation about tableware.

She was worried sick about the dozen empty seats at their table, but she wouldn't let it show. With a look that said that she knew exactly what she was doing, Cici indulged her.

"Yes, lovely flutes. Engraving them with our names was a nice touch."

"Who knew they'd have time to add me?" Vanessa wondered.

Cici chuckled. "Aren't you cute? I gave them your name a month ago."

She could pretend she was surprised, but Vanessa just laughed, shaking her head. Cici was staying in the country exactly three days. She'd guessed that Vanessa would want to be there, of course.

"And what if I'd been busy?"

"You would have rescheduled for your Nana, and you know it."

The diabolical older woman wasn't wrong.

"I see the appeal, by the way. Very handsome. Very smart. Definitely suitable. Well, if it wasn't for the trollop wife, that is."

Vanessa's eyes widened and her mouth fell open.

"What are you...?"

"And stop torturing that poor napkin, Nessie. He's sitting five tables down, with the rest of the nouveau rich. You know how old-fashioned Wright can be."

Thankfully, someone had filled the crystal flutes with champagne while she'd been busy staring at her grandmother like she'd spotted a witch, so when she regained her senses, she grabbed her glass and took a healthy sip.

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