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CHAPTER FOUR
Two years later…
age sixteen
There was something to be said about the ocean. On the surface she was calm and captivating. Her waves beckoned to us, calling us like a siren’s song to come closer,closer. We were lured by her beauty and the serenity she offered. But in her depths, in the places dark and deep that we couldn’t see, she held the power to drag us into the darkness and never let us go. She was a soft embrace and a dangerous predator. She was majestic and terrifying.
I’d always been fascinated by the ocean.
I leaned against the rail, staring out at the vast, blue water. The lights from my father’s yacht lit up the surface. Behind me, below me, and all around me, people were celebrating my birthday. They drank, laughed and danced in honor of the day I was born. I wanted a weekend trip to the house in the Hamptons. Dad insisted on throwing me the biggest and best Sweet Sixteen New York had ever seen. Unless I was onstage in my pointe shoes and leotard, performing the perfect variation in front of a nameless crowd, I hated being the center of attention. Unfortunately, when your father was a major player in the game of politics,attentionwas a way of life.
Right now, he was in one of the interior cabins that he’d turned into a poker room, waging bets and rubbing elbows with some of the nation’s most powerful men. Mom was on the lower deck, drinking champagne and comparing lifestyles of the rich and famous—with the rich and famous. Here, on the upper deck, a DJ worked his way through a playlist of my favorite songs while people I’d known my whole life but never reallyknewparaded around in bikinis and swim trunks, hopping in and out of the pool in between sipping drinks and making out. Some of them used the thirty-foot slide on the side deck to plunge into the ocean. I loved the water, but not after dark. Never after dark.
“Sweet sixteen.” A familiar voice came from behind me, wrapping around me like an unwelcome stench.
I turned and smiled. “Senator Polluck. I know my father is glad you came.”Be polite but say nothing to lead him on.The senator was older than me by at least twenty years. He was attractive by normal standards with his perfect white smile and country club style. According to high school cafeteria whispers, he’d gone through more young, female housekeepers than was appropriate, and his beautiful wife was probably downstairs swapping interior designer info with my mom and the other wives. Someone was always adding on, redecorating, or remodeling. It was their idea ofstaying busy.
He inched closer. “My daughter will be sixteen next year.” My skin crawled when he ran a finger along the column of my throat. “Any idea what a sixteen-year-old girl might want for her birthday?” His hand slid down my back, his fingers stopping to fumble with the strings of my bikini top before resting right above my ass. “Is there anything specialyoumight want for your birthday?”
Bile burned my throat as I shifted my weight to the other foot, easing away from his touch. Cool air caressed my skin when his hand slipped off my back.
“My parents got me a car.” A Mercedes Benz E450 Coupe with a shiny black finish and all-leather interior. I would have been fine with a Jeep, but the car was still gorgeous.
“Ahh, the Benz. We named her Katniss because she’s a bad bitch.” Lyric popped up beside me with a red plastic cup in her hand.
My best friend.
My little firecracker.
The Kimmy Gibbler to my DJ Tanner.
And right now, my favorite person in the entire world.
A deep frown etched his picture-perfect face. “You certainly have quite the mouth.” His voice was like acid as he switched his attention to Lyric.
She shrugged one shoulder then brought the cup to her lips. “People say I take after my dad.”
Her father was a world-famous rapper known for his take-no-prisoners, give-no-fucks attitude, bleached-blond hair, and widely renowned diss tracks—most of them aimed at his ex-wife and fucked-up childhood. And just like him, Lyric was an outcast in our world because she had no filter. The ties of etiquette and well-bred genetics didn’t bind her.
“Yes, I suppose you do.” A slow smile crept over his lips as he grabbed my hand and let his gaze settle back on me. “Any plans after graduation?”
A high-pitched shriek followed by a loud splash resounded from the side deck, stealing our attention for a moment. Lyric’s eyes narrowed when she spotted my brother, Lincoln, laughing after he’d obviously pushed a girl down the slide.
My brother was kind of a dick, so none of that surprised me. Truth be told, the girl probably liked it. They flocked to him like moths to a flame.
I turned back to the senator. “Juilliard.” I faked a shiver in order to pull my hand back to rub my arms. “Then the New York Ballet.”
Another splash followed the first, then deep, male laughter.
Lyric slid in and draped her arm over my shoulder, dragging me against her side. “After a wild week in Belize with fruity drinks and cabana boys.” She waggled her eyebrows then took another drink.
The senator lifted his chin and shifted his eyes to something over my shoulder.
Fervent energy threaded around me, a salacious cord pulling, tugging, and twisting until the air felt tight untileverythingtightened. My heart beat faster. It washim. I felt it. I was inherently aware of his presence before he ever spoke a word.
I angled my body to see him.
Caspian Donahue.
