Sway (Landry Family 1)

"Don't worry about it," she breathes, waving me off. "I can't take my brothers anywhere without women getting all mesmerized. Especially that one," she laughs, nodding to the doorway Barrett just went through. "Although, between me and you, I don't get it."

Her grin is infectious, and I can't help but return it.

"I'm Camilla," she says, extending her long, well-manicured hand like I don’t already know.

I balance the tray on one side and take her hand in mine. "I'm Alison. Alison Baker."

"You helped clean up a sauce spill earlier. You put the lady that had the accident at ease when you took the blame and kept the attention off her. I wanted you to know I saw and respected that."

"It really was no big deal.”

"In this world, everything can be a big deal. Trust me. You probably just saved my brother a couple of votes."

"Just doing my part," I laugh.

She smiles again, her chic sky-blue dress matching her eyes and heels. "Well, on behalf of the mayor, thank you. He seems . . . occupied, at the moment."

I wink. "I have no idea what you’re talking about. I didn't see a thing."

She nods, looking a touch relieved, and thanks me again before turning away and greeting the older lady from earlier, the one that spilled her dinner all over me. Camilla takes her hand and helps her into a chair.

Her elegance is breathtaking and she has a charm about her, an easiness even though she’s clearly blue-blood, that I’ve never seen before. It’s exactly what the kitchen is buzzing about with Barrett—a charisma you can’t quite put your finger on.

Barrett

"I'M WET FOR YOU, BARRETT."

"I'm sure you are."

I wrap my arm around Daphne's narrow waist, letting my fingers splay against the red satin fabric covering her body. She moans at the contact, her eyelashes fluttering closed, and her head resting against my shoulder.

"How could I not be? You are so sexy," Daphne purrs, grabbing the lapels of my jacket and trying to jerk me towards her. "Please, Mayor Landry. Fuck me."

Squeezing her hips to hold her steady, I'm afraid she's going to get sick before I can get her out of here.

"Take me home with you, sugar. Take me to the bathroom for all I care, just take me," Daphne thinks she whispers as I guide her to the foyer of the Savannah Room.

Her not-so-quiet request gains the attention of the men in suits lining the marble walls. They look at us, the Mayor of Savannah and the daughter of a United States Senator, over their tumblers of gin. A few crack a grin, but most just nod and turn back to their discussions about oil or the stock market.

Not one man with the requisite American flag pin on his suit jacket is appalled. This may be the South, where people like to think it's all gentility and manners, but it's also politics, and it has its own code of conduct that morality has no place in. Politics equals power, but it also equals fortune, a bit of fame, and a lot of pussy, and these men take

full advantage of it all.

And so have I.

But these days, with the gubernatorial election on the horizon and my campaign numbers strong but not enough to make me a shoo-in, I have been more selective in my extracurricular activities. My eligible bachelor title earlier this year, along with some pesky pictures of me with a couple of models at a party in Atlanta, didn’t help my campaign. My adversary, a bastard named Homer Hobbs, has taken the angle that I’m just some spoiled little rich kid that can’t be trusted with the keys to the Governor’s Mansion. That’s one angle. There are others.

“Are you coming home with me?” Daphne slurs against my shoulder.

“You know I can’t do that,” I say, pausing while she catches her balance. “I have to stay here and entertain the masses.”

She giggles. “Why don’t you come entertain my ass instead?”

Fighting to hide my frustration, I hurry her along as best I can towards the exit.

“So many people came to see you,” she gushes.

“Let’s hope that translates to votes.”