The Kingmaker (All the King's Men, #1)(92)

He leans down to look directly into my eyes. “Not Owen. The other one. Maxim’s just like me. You do know that, right? Under all that clean, Greenpeace shit, he’s as ruthless and insatiable as I am, though he doesn’t like to admit it. You think some girl from the reservation will ever be enough for him?”

Never be enough for Maxim? For the man who put himself between me and a pack of dogs before he even knew my name? Not enough for the man who shook me awake from my nightmares and held me all night? The man who begged for my forgiveness, admitted he was wrong and came back for me . . . just like he said he would?

“You hate it, don’t you?” I ask, my voice low and taunting. “That I’m the one he wants?”

His confident smile flickers, slips.

“You know him so well,” I say. “Not Owen. The other one.”

I take a bold step closer so my words have less space to travel.

“You know Maxim well enough to see that he didn’t come back for Owen. He came back for me.”

“You’re wrong,” Warren says with an ease belied by the hard glimmer in his eyes.

“Am I? God, it must grate that your son wants . . . how did you put it? Some girl from the reservation? The girl who can’t stand you and gets in your way at every turn?”

“You should be very careful,” Warren says, his voice a threat.

“Or what? You’ll destroy my career? Come against my friends? My family? You don’t scare me.” I laugh with sudden realization. “I scare you. Because you know that if you hurt me, Maxim will never forgive you.”

“That’s ridiculous.” His laugh scoffs, but I see something in his eyes; the same thing Maxim doesn’t want me to see in his. Longing. He longs for a relationship with his son the way Maxim longs for him. He misses Maxim, but he can’t have him.

And I can.

“I know your secret, Mr. Cade.” I tip up on my toes and whisper in his ear. “You love Maxim most.”

When I step back, a vein bisects his forehead like a lightning bolt. The anger swirls around him, cyclonic and forceful. If Maxim’s own words didn’t convince me how much he cares for me, his father’s response does.

“Now if you’ll excuse me,” I say, keeping my voice low. “Your other son needs me.”

I open the door, step inside the room, and close the door in Warren Cade’s face. A deep breath settles me and clears my mind of the unpleasant encounter before I approach Owen. He’s seated on the bed, iPad beside him, and he looks perfectly at ease. He’s a natural. He doesn’t just poll well; he is a good man. He’ll be good for our country. He’ll unite us, but still be uncompromising for the people who deserve defending.

“You ready?” I ask, stepping into the room.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” His smile is a little weary, but I’ve seen him in action enough to know when the lights come on, so does he. He’ll bring the energy we need.

“Tonight has already been a huge success, and your announcement is gonna top it off in the best way possible. After this, it’s a whole new ballgame, and we’re ready to play.”

Owen nods, smiles, but there’s a sobriety to his expression.

“Sure you’re okay, Owen?” I touch his shoulder and frown.

“Yeah, I’m good.” His smile is meant to reassure me. “It’s a tremendous amount of responsibility, and I’ve been preparing all my life for this, but tonight it’s more real than it’s ever been. I’ve seen how power corrupts, and I never want to be that. You know?”

Still feeling the sting of his father’s barbs, I do know what power misused looks and feels like. “The fact that you even think about this means you won’t do it. Hold onto that and surround yourself with people who won’t let you get away with it.”

“I’m glad I’ve surrounded myself with you and Kimba. Keep me accountable?”

“That you don’t have to worry about.” I tell him with a smile.

The door opens and Millicent and the twins stand there.

“Sorry to interrupt,” she says.

“No, we’re just wrapping up.” I look to Owen. “Kimba and I and the whole team are here for you. Let us know if you need anything. We have about ten minutes before you’ll take the stage.”

When I return to the main room, I check with our producer that the cameras are set up and ready to record Owen’s announcement. We’ll push it out on social media immediately.

I glance up and find Maxim’s eyes set on me. It’s a cool night in San Francisco, but when our gazes connect, a blast of heat covers my entire body. His eyes leave mine to fall over me—my breasts and hips and thighs, all the way to my feet. He takes his time retracing the path back up and over each dip and curve until he’s looking into my eyes again. I don’t nod or smile, but I can’t tear my eyes away from him.

He emanates power—the physical power of his muscles and strong body subdued by the expensive clothing made to mold his form. He carries a magnetic aura that draws senators, congressmen, ambassadors—all want a piece of him for the wealth he’s acquired and the influence he wields. There’s the power of his mind, that sharp tool he’s honed to build an empire from scratch without his father’s assistance through a series of risks only a buccaneer would hazard. And finally, there’s the power he seems to have over me—a visceral, personal force that knows how to tempt me, that fascinates and mesmerizes me. All the others he’s carefully cultivated, but the power he holds over me, I think it’s effortless.