Chapter One
They’d lost.
The words echoed in Stacia Kendall’s brain, numbness and shock blinding her to all else. Failure closed in, an unrelenting, suffocating mass, numbing her to everything else at the campaign headquarters. One thought stuck in her mind. She had planned the perfect political campaign, but it had one flaw—the representative and his damned libido.
She inched toward the back door of the hotel ballroom, only murmurs and whispers filling the room, not the expected celebration and noisemakers. Stunned campaign volunteers pulled red, white and blue victory balloons from the air. Strategically placed confetti containers silently disappeared from the hall. The dull hum set her teeth on edge and the sensation of several sets of eyes boring holes into her back, blamed her for the failed primary campaign.
The vibration from her cell phone rippled up her arm from her clenched fist. The familiar face of Senator Kendall appeared on the screen. Nausea churned in her stomach.
“Father.” The hushed tone escaped her tight throat. “Hold on while I find somewhere private.” She backed out the door and walked the few steps down the hall to a small alcove, formerly a telephone booth. She hunched on the little bench inside and said, “Okay, I’m alone.”
“I don’t give a damn if you’re alone or not.” A gruff voice shot out from the cell phone, puncturing the remains of her self-confidence. “What the hell happened? It was a primary, and should have been an easy victory.”
Stacia tried not to cringe. After years of hiding her feelings, she still fought the urge to duck her head and cower.
“I know Representative Glazier was your hand-picked candidate, and I was assigned to keep him under control, but he made a few unfortunate comments about the governor…”
“He’s the most popular governor in all fifty states. Where were you?” he barked.
A flash of anger darted through her and she gripped the phone until her hand ached. “He went off-script. What was I to do?”
The silence at the other end was unbearable, but she had learned, from the time she was a little girl, to wait for her father. To speak would be more unforgivable than losing a primary race. Be a Kendall. Stand strong. Never show fear. And take your punishment without tears.
His voice, when he spoke, was much quieter, calmer but with a bite sharper than an adder’s fang. “Unacceptable. We hired your firm, and you, to keep him on script. Your job to ensure his message. Your job to avoid all embarrassments.”
A chill snaked up her spine and exploded in goose bumps along her arms. “This isn’t just about the speech? You’re talking about the hotel incident.”
“What do you think? Pictures of him coming out of another woman’s hotel room are devastating. If you had listened to me and accepted his proposal, you would have been by his side, and his campaign wouldn’t have been sliced, diced, and now iced.”
“His proposal? Don’t you meanyourproposal?” As if Representative Glazier, who owed his political career to her father, would ever say no directly to Senator Kendall. No, instead, he would sneak around with an intern with double-d cup breasts and nothing between her ears. “It’s not my job to make sure his zipper stayed zipped.”
“Don’t be naive. It was advantageous to both of us. And it was your responsibility, your job to smooth out the rough edges, show a polished image, and for God’s sake bury any bad publicity.”
Her father’s dismissive attitude sent tendrils of anger down her spine. She took a deep breath and counted to ten, then twenty. Never react. Never let him get to you. Never let him know how much his words bite.
The sound of voices drifted down the hall, and a group of volunteers walked by, glancing curiously into the small alcove. She forced a grin and a half-hearted wave, indicating everything was fine, when she could feel her world crumbling. Her whole life had been spent striving to be a political asset, constantly reminded of her position and family. Now she was a political liability. Her father’s displeasure was worse than any punishment; his anger tore the skin off her back without lifting a hand.
After a moment struggling with control, she was proud to speak collectedly. “What about me? Where was the advantage to me?”
“I didn’t raise a dumb girl. You could do worse.”
“It sounds like you’re pimping me out for political gain.”
“Don’t make it sound cheap.”
“But it is.” She struggled to keep her voice low and composed, while sweat broke out on her back. “I’m your daughter. Shouldn’t that count for something?”
“Exactly. You know the score, your responsibilities. Honestly, Stacia. I don’t understand you sometimes. I raised you in the political arena, since you were barely out of diapers. You were calling voters as soon as you knew how to dial the phone. I expect this kind of screw-up from your sister. She doesn’t have your brains. Maybe, if you dressed a little less Jackie O, and a little more…”
“Madonna? Lady Gaga? My new stepmother?” A warmth spread from her chest, chasing away the ice from the earlier comments.
“Enough, Stacia. Don’t be disrespectful.” His words slapped her down, reminding her who was the boss.
“You don’t want to hear my input. You just want me to do whatever you say. I don’t want a political marriage, Father.”
“Senator, young lady. Maybe if you had been his fiancée, he wouldn’t have felt the need to seek comfort elsewhere. Apparently, I was wrong.”
“It would be easier to show a clean televangelist than the representative. You should be having this discussion with your favorite son. He’s the one who screwed his campaign, while screwing his intern.”