Sway (Landry Family #1)(5)

"I think it's going well," Graham says as I approach, rocking back on his heels. "As long as you get Monroe on board, I'm pretty sure you're golden."

"I'll get Monroe on board, but I'm probably going to have to fuck Daphne again to make sure," I laugh.

"Oh, I bet it's so hard to stick your cock in that. Damn, brother, I almost feel bad for you."

I shrug, the grin on my face staying put, feeling my shoulders relax for the first time in hours. "I do what must be done for the greater good."

"Such a fool," he says, but I know he's kidding. "Ford sent me an email today. He said he's trying to come home around the election. It can't hurt to have a Landry in uniform standing next to you. Between him and Lincoln, you'll look like an All-American."

"Lincoln was an All-American," I point out about our brother that is currently the center fielder for the Tennessee Arrows.

"True."

"Speaking of our siblings, did you hear from Sienna?" She’s the family wild card, eschewing all things political and Landry-centered for a life as an artist and fashion designer.

Sienna and Camilla are identical twins, but couldn’t be any more different. Camilla is always around, meddling in our business, lending a hand to events or charities when needed. Sienna is usually jet-setting around the world and too busy to check in.

"No. Dad called her earlier and chewed her ass for not being here, I think. Lincoln got a pass because he's training and Ford's excused because he's in the Middle East. But you know Dad doesn’t think painting and designing dresses are really work."

"He could’ve cut her some slack."

I’m cut short by Graham’s smirk. His eyes slide right past me and light up.

"Would either of you like a glass of champagne?" a female voice nearly whispers behind me.

"I'm good," Graham mutters, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "How about you, Barrett?"

I ignore him and let my eyes feast on the curves of the woman in front of me. Her black pants are belted at the waist, her white shirt hugging the bends of her body. She's not overly thin or overly heavy, just a damn-near perfect vision of what a woman should look like.

She has creamy skin and a spattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. She tucks a strand of her straw-colored hair behind her ear and takes a deep breath. I think she's going to laugh, but she doesn't. Instead, a faint smile ghosts her full lips and she lifts her chin like she has a secret she won’t tell.

Her gaze remains on Graham, almost like she's afraid to look my way. Finally, she turns to me, and when she does, a slight rise in her chest is noticeable as she sucks in a shaky breath.

I grin.

Her eyes are a deep blue. The color is stormy, swirling, moving like a shield between us.

"Would you, sir?" she asks, taking a half a step backwards.

"Would I what?" I press, enjoying the way her cheeks turn pink in the most real way. She’s not reacting to me as part of a calculated plan or trying to endear herself to me for a gain in some way. It’s an experience I haven’t had for a long time and I want to live in it a moment longer.

"Would you like a drink?"

The words topple out of her lips, like she wants to say them and scoot away.

I take a step towards her, watching her beautiful eyes widen. This girl is naturally gorgeous, her features not hidden by a thick layer of make-up. "That depends on what you're offering."

I shouldn't be toying with her, but I can't help it. I want to keep her talking, to watch her reactions.

She wants to get away from me, I can feel it, and I can't help but wonder why. Most women clamor over each other, ready to knife anyone they need to in order to get to me, but this one is trying to run.

"I don't have much to offer," she says, a hint of nervousness in her voice. "Unless you like champagne."

"I like all sorts of things." I keep my gaze heavy against hers, not allowing her to look away. She fidgets with her tray and swallows hard, but never takes her eyes off mine like she’s too defiant to look away. The longer our gazes match, the hotter my body becomes.

She licks her bottom lip slowly, her heated gaze boring into mine. "Is that so?"

Graham chuckles beside me and I watch her jump, like she forgot he was there. She clears her throat and glances around the room.

She turns back to us again, this time a practiced smile on her face. The easy grin and whispery laugh are both gone. This is the reaction I'm used to seeing on everyone, the look they think I want to see. I hate it on her.

"Gentlemen . . .” With a nod, she walks away as fast as she can. She doesn't look back, but I watch her until she's out of sight.

"You're the fucking mayor," Graham snickers, loosening his green silk tie.

"I bet she'd like to be fucking the mayor." I raise my eyebrows, and my brother laughs louder.

"Do you have any class whatsoever?"

"What? I like the look of her."

"Which ones do you not like the look of?"

"I’ll let you know when I find one.”

He quirks a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to be playing the role of the good candidate, being serious about all the things that matter?”