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7
PASHA
“I still can’t believe you burned the damn thing.”
I shrug and take another sip of my lemon water. “Felt fantastic. You should try it sometime.”
Senator Brennan chuckles. “That would be a dream come true. I’ll never understand what my wife sees in that artist… what’s his name…”
“Ewing.”
“Ewing.” He drawls it out over his tongue with a twisted look on his face, as if the name tastes terrible. To be fair, I don’t relish it, either. “Conrad Ewing, that’s right. I swear, I’m seeing his work everywhere these days. Senator Gerhardt even has one in his office; can you believe it?”
As much as I hate it, I can believe it. Nepotism is a hell of a resource for talentless hacks like Ewing.
Sidney Conrad Ewing is a third-rate barely-graduate of Yale’s art program who wouldn’t have even been admitted were it not for a generous donation bestowed upon the university by the wealthy Mr. and Mrs. Ewing.
I know more about the bastard than I care to. It wasn’t hard to pull the records and follow the paper trail.
The only thing I haven’t been able to figure out is how the hell he ended up with a woman like Daphne.
Moya plamya. My little flame.
And my never-ending distraction. The second her face appears in my mind, I shake it away before I lose track of the conversation.
“How is Cora these days?” I don’t care about the senator’s wife on a personal level; it’s just good to know where things stand.
Especially when the dirt I have on Senator Brennan is only as powerful as his obedience to his ball-busting wife. There’s a running joke-that-isn’t-such-a-joke about who the “real” senator is.
He’d never say as much, but I wonder if part of her power over him has anything to do with what she’s like between the sheets.
Memories of Daphne flood my senses. Her soft skin beneath my fingertips, her lips caressing mine… her mewling gasps in my ear… the way she rippled around me…
Brennan wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin. “She’s fine. Still pretty upset over the loss of that damn painting. I’ll never hear the end of it.”
“I’m sure there will be a new one. A better one.” A worse one would be damn near impossible, I think to myself. “In any case, tell me what you think about the new contract.”
I force myself to focus on why I’m here to begin with. I want to get it all over and done with. This place—gilt-edged tea cups, waiters in tuxedos with stiff upper lips—is not my preferred business environment.
For starters, white tablecloths show blood far too easily.
Brennan nods and leans back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “I like it. In the way that ensuring our troops are armed with the best of the best, I like it.”
I don’t like the hesitation in his tone. “But…?”
“But there are some concerns. About your sourcing.”
“That’s not a problem, Senator. I’m sure we can figure something out.” I nod to the waiter, who promptly refills my ice water. “Give me a few days to pull the records together for you.”
Brennan nods and tucks into his salmon without another word. I pick at the capers on my own plate. I don’t have much of an appetite.
My siblings, Makari and Sofiya, have been up my ass about tracking down the woman from the gallery. I’ve rebuffed them at every turn. It’s better to leave the past in the past. Enjoy what Daphne and I had and let it go. I’m decent enough to recognize a bad idea for what it is.
I may be a violent bastard. But I’m not a selfish one.
And she’s not fit for my world.
“Actually, on second thought…” I set down my fork and relax back in my own seat. Time to pull the reins out of this idiot’s hands. “I won’t be giving you those verifications.”
