Page 139 of Heartless Sinner

The earliest I could become president.

“I apologize for interrupting you, gentlemen.”

I turned at the feminine voice to find a brunette around my age stepping into our circle wearing a long, glittery dress. She tucked a strand of hair behind a diamond earring and smiled directly at me.

I returned it.

Hers was real. Mine wasn’t.

Nothing against her. I didn’t even know her.

But I had a pretty fucking good idea why she’d interrupted us. And why my father had been so adamant I drag my bruised ass to this dinner tonight.

“This is my daughter, Rachel,” the man introduced.

Rachel extended her hand, all graceful movements and manicured fingers.

Years of political training took over. I bent my head and brushed my lips across her knuckles.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” she said in a Southern twang. “My father has been trying to get me to attend one of these for years, but I’ve just been so busy.”

Her nails dragged across my palm as she pulled away.

Yeah. I knew exactly why she was here.

“I’m pleased you found a break in your schedule,” I replied with enough fake sincerity to make my father proud.

Rachel turned to him. “Mr. President.” She offered him her hand next. “It’s a pleasure meeting you again.”

My father dipped his head before shaking her hand. “Thank you for joining us, Rachel.”

His mouth tightened. Just barely.

Most people wouldn’t have noticed, but I did.

That’d been happening all night.

People approached me before him. Shook my hand first. Asked about my future. Talked about my campaigns I couldn’t legally run for years.

I’d been taught to eat, sleep, and breathe politics since I was old enough to understand what a poll number was.

I knew exactly what it meant.

They were losing confidence in my father.

Donations had already started drying up. People who’d kissed his ass for years were quietly wondering whether he’d lose the next election.

Their attention was shifting. To me.

“Why don’t you two go chat?” the man said, passing his empty flute to a server. “I need to speak to you about those oil prices, Byron.”

Oil. It clicked.

Sterling Beckett.

Billionaire. Big-oil heir.

And now that I remembered his name, I remembered why I disliked him.