Filthy Rich (Blackstone Dynasty 1)

“How so?” I wouldn’t have anything to do with his campaign. No fucking way. I held my palms up. “This has nothing to do with me. Your campaign is yours—as in not mine.”

“Oh, but it is in a way, son. You’ll have to do your part to help present the right image to the voting public. Every aspect of our lives will be scrutinized—every predilection . . . ” He folded his hands and focused his dark eyes on mine, finally getting to the crux of the issue.

“Even I can’t change who I am . . . Dad. You might think you can clean me up for your precious campaign, but you can’t. You are responsible for my transformation after all.”

Maybe he was responsible.

But maybe not.

The darkness had always been there from as long as I could remember, just not acted on until rather recently in my life. Now? I needed it to survive. The control was essential for me. The fact my father had knowledge of my sexual proclivities was a far worse burden to bear on my part. The fact I liked to tie up women and spank them while fucking was gonna be his.

“Don’t be so dramatic. It’s a simple solution. Your sister is already on the right path. She understands her duty to her family. The only loose end in my equation is you.” He did that lip-curl thing again. “You will also do your duty to this family, and you will do it quickly.”

I shook my head at him. Denying what I knew he was asking of me. “I’m not hearing this.”

“You are hearing this. I can’t run a campaign for the highest office in the land with a thirty-something son unmarried and frequenting an underground sex club. Discreet you may be, but this upcoming level of scrutiny isn’t what you’ve been used to thus far. I might be able to get the past whitewashed somewhat but my powers aren’t infinite here. A pretty wife and a young family will do a much more convincing job than a cover-up could ever manage. The Internet makes things very goddamn complicated for all of us.”

Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth.

“Married doesn’t work for me. I mean, just look at what happened the last time I tried to put a ring on it. You orchestrated that catastrophe like a pro, I might add.”

“Ancient history, James,” he said with a dismissive wave of a hand.

“It doesn’t feel so ancient to me knowing my own father arranged for my marriage to disintegrate at the fucking altar in front of a church full of guests.”

“She wasn’t the right wife for you—obviously—and beneath this family. Can you deny you’re better off without her now?”

That last part stung like a bitch because he was right on that one point. I was better off without Leah in my life. But what was worse was knowing how I’d been played by the people who shouldn’t have ever dreamed of playing me. At the time it had been beneficial for Leah to leave.

Beneficial for him and for Ted Robinson.

My father cared only about himself, and that wouldn’t change until the day he took his last breath on this earth. Rage got the upper hand over my self-control and I jumped up from the chair. “Why do you feel entitled to dictate the who and the when I should marry?”

He shrugged. “Because I can, and because it behooves me to have both of my children happily settled with families of their own. Family values will be the impetus of my campaign. Family. Values.” His frustration was beginning to show. “You are going to get some.”

“And how do you suggest I do this?”

He made a sound of disgust. “Do I really have to spell this out for you, son?”

“Since it’s me you’re asking to do this, yeah you do, Dad.”

He settled back into the luxurious leather and let me have it. “Marry a girl from a good family and make her pregnant. I am assuming you can figure that part of it—” He paused, his expression changing to one of interest. “Or get her pregnant first, and then marry her if you prefer.”

“I’m not doing any of—”

“In fact, a surprise pregnancy might work even better to endorse our support of traditional values with a thoroughly modern interpretation.” He tapped his lips with an index finger and looked genuinely pleased for the first time since I’d entered his office.

“Have you lost your mind? I’m not having a child because you dictate it’s time for me to have one to benefit your fucking political ambitions.”

“Careful now,” he warned. “You will do exactly as I’ve outlined. And you will settle down and get to work on creating the picture-perfect family I need standing in support of the legacy I am building. It’s not like I’m asking you to do anything you wouldn’t do eventually, James. People grow up and get married. They have children. It’s the only reason marriage exists. Why are you struggling with this?”

I had to fight off the urge to shudder out my revulsion. The image of myself standing on some podium somewhere having to cheer on my father in support was just too fucking much to have to stomach this early in the day. I didn’t think I could do it.

“You will not fuck this up for me.”

“What if I don’t find someone?”

“I suggest you do if you want to be involved with the choice. If you can’t manage to find a suitable bride on your own, then one will be found for you. A suitable bride, James. Not one of your playthings from the club. Wealth is not as important as an upstanding family background for showing we can relate to solid middle class—”