Power Desired (D.C. Power Games Book 1) Read online

  Power

  Desired

  A D.C. Power Games Novel

  Power

  Desired

  A D.C. Power Games Novel

  Ivy Nelson

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2018 by Ivy Nelson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected].

  First edition December 2018

  ISBN-13 978-1-7315-3453-8

  www.ivynelsonbooks.com

  Acknowledgements

  A Note From The Author

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  About the Author

  Acknowledgements

  They say it takes a village to raise a child, and before I had a son, I often referred to this book as my baby. To say it took a village to make this dream of mine come true would be an understatement. This book is dedicated to all of them.

  Of course, I have to start by acknowledging my husband, without whom I would not have achieved this dream. He encouraged me to do it even when I felt like it was a silly endeavor. Thank you, love of my life for all of the opportunities to spend hours in the coffee shop getting it just right. And thank you for never giving up your faith in me, even though it took me three years to get here. I am excited to be on this journey with you. To my son, who will hopefully never read this book. Thank you for not giving Daddy too hard of a time while I was away at Starbucks working on this for our family.

  To my internet friends, you are why I finished. The pages and pages of advice, the gentle critiques, and the cheers of celebration for every milestone I reached will always mean so much to me. To the Pitch Wars mentors who offered advice, and the editor and proofreader I’ve never met. Thank you for all that you have put into my art.

  To my bestie Amanda, thanks for telling me you liked my book—and that it wasn’t a lie. I know you were fully prepared to lie and support me if you had to though, because you’re that kind of friend.

  I also must acknowledge Lin-Manuel Miranda and the brilliant piece of art that is Hamilton. I literally wrote this entire book with the soundtrack on repeat. That is not even a tiny bit of an exaggeration.

  While I’m thanking people who will never read this, I must also take a moment to acknowledge former Vice President Joe Biden and others for the work they have done with the “Its On Us” movement to end sexual assault on college campuses. It is an issue that is obviously dear to Darci’s heart, but it is also something close to my heart. If you would like to learn more about the organization, visit www.itsonus.org

  Last, but definitely not least, I must say thank you to my mom. You are my cheerleader, my biggest fan, and the one I really want to make proud. I hope this book doesn’t make you blush too much. Thank you for always believing in me and my dreams.

  To my readers, you are helping me achieve my dreams and for that I will be forever grateful. I hope that I can continue to bring you stories that you enjoy.

  A Note from the Author

  Power Desired contains depictions of BDSM. This book is the authors interpretation of BDSM fantasies and is not intended to be an educational tool. BDSM is different for everyone and this is just one perspective. Everything in this book is fictitious and should be read as such. If you choose to participate in BDSM, please remember consent above all else and please do educate yourself with something that isn’t a work of fiction.

  I hope you enjoy this creation.

  Ivy Nelson

  Chapter One

  “You tell the senator if he keeps pushing this legislation, he’ll have the entire weight of the ACSL working against him.”

  Darci Sanders ran a hand through her red curls wincing as her finger caught on a knot and then another. Her hair hadn’t started the day so wild, but it never failed to end up that way. It had taken her half an hour to talk to someone other than an intern. She sat behind a worn desk that had seen better days and fiddled with the tiny snow globe from Paris. It was one of several travel mementos that adorned her space. The office was cramped, but it belonged to her.

  She decided not to mention that the full weight of the American Coalition for Sexual Liberty was only seven employees. The thing about power and influence—it’s kind of like dynamite—it can come in small packages, especially in a city like D.C. Her eyes wandered across the array of pictures on the walls and desk causing her to smile as the woman on the phone spoke.

  “I’ll pass your message along, Miss Sanders. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  Darci rolled her eyes at the woman’s professional but impatient tone. She pushed away from her desk, stood and stretched. Rounding the modest desk with the cordless phone still pressed to her ear, she walked to the window. It was large and bathed the room in natural light, making the blue walls seem even brighter.

  “What did you say your name was?”

  “Adara Kent, ma’am.” Darci shuddered as she scribbled the name on a sticky note. Don’t call me ma’am.

  Out loud she said, “That's a lovely name. You can get me an appointment for a sit down with the senator.”

  “I’m afraid he is a busy man and won’t be able to meet anytime soon,” Adara replied.

  “Of course he is. I hope you’re prepared to spend a lot of time on the phone, Miss Kent. I will make sure the senator’s constituents call you every day to express their displeasure with this bill.”

  Darci spent another thirty seconds getting the usual, “I’ll pass your message to the senator.” She knew full well Adara Kent had no intention of doing anything of the sort. At most, her call would reach the chief of staff if she was persistent—and she would be. She pulled up her list of co-sponsors of S.571 and crossed off Sean Atleigh, the Republican from Arizona. Three more lawmakers to harass today. She tried to keep the smirk off her face. Jim hated it when she harassed members of the legislative branch.

&
nbsp; Darci walked to the window again. It looked out onto a busy D.C. street. She loved the city. The hustle and bustle relaxed her, and in this job, relaxing was a rarity. She had been working for the American Coalition for Sexual Liberty for seven years. It was a rewarding job, but she worked with a lot of victims, many seen as society's outcasts. Porn stars, prostitutes, rape victims and more came through this office seeking representation and aid. Today, she was starting a lobby against a bill that classified pornography as a public health crisis on a federal level and directed funding and legislation towards restrictions that would hobble the industry. Sexual liberty meant being able to make money off it in Darci’s eyes, and the ability to do so without government intervention. Certain laws regarding child porn were necessary but to kill an entire commercial enterprise because some religious white guys were feigning offense? That seemed like a gross overreach of power.

  The phone rang, startling Darci. It was shaping up to be a busy one. She crossed the short distance to the desk and answered with her usual greeting. A timid voice reached across the line.

  “Miss Sanders, I’m Tessa Heath, I wondered if we could meet.”

  “Can I ask why you're calling? I can try to help you on the phone,” Darci opened her desktop calendar as she spoke.

  “I would feel more comfortable talking in person,” Tessa said.

  “Will you at least tell me what it’s about?” Darci asked.

  A long pause, and then a whisper.

  “I... Someone raped me, and they’re going to let him get away with it.”

  Darci froze. A knot formed in her stomach and the small office suddenly felt cramped to the point that she struggled to breathe. She didn’t do rape cases. They were too hard on her emotions. She was about to inform the girl she would transfer her to another representative when she remembered Jim Perkins was the only other one in the office today. Jim was amazing, but he wasn’t always as delicate as necessary for a situation like this. If she transferred this frightened girl to her gruff boss, they would lose her before they were able to help her. No, this was her client now. She pushed past the lump in her throat.

  “I understand you don’t feel comfortable talking on the phone, but can you tell me if you’ve gone to the police?”

  Another pause.

  “I’m afraid I’ll lose my scholarship if I do.”

  Damn it! This story sounded eerily familiar. Without asking questions, she could guess what this girl had been through since her attack.

  The threats wouldn’t have been overt, they would have been subtle.

  “Think about your academic future. A criminal trial might cause your grades to suffer, and then what would happen?” they would ask in a kind voice.

  Darci took a deep breath and spoke again. “Can you meet me for lunch today? Say in an hour? I want to help you, Tessa.”

  Tessa agreed, and they swapped cell phone numbers. Darci asked where she went to school so she could do some research into the administration there. To her surprise, the girl went to her alma mater. Small world. She ended the call and got to work. All thoughts of harassing senators about S.571 had left Darci. She could only think of helping Tessa.

  • • •

  Bradley Givens walked out of his office in time to see his assistant slamming the phone back into the cradle.

  “Everything alright, Adara?”

  He straightened his tie as he crossed the room to the young woman sitting behind a pristine desk. Her dark hair was up with a few loose curls framing her face, her makeup neat and understated, and her suit was a simple but flattering gray. She was the first line of defense between his employer and angry constituents, and she was damn good at her job. Keeping her happy was at the top of his priority list.

  He perched on the corner of her desk and waited for her to respond.

  “Everything is great boss. Just an angry lobbyist trying to bully her way into meeting with the senator.” Bradley chuckled. When his assistant glared at him, he raised his hands and backed away from the desk.

  “Sorry, I’m laughing at the lobbyist for thinking she would get past you. I swear I’m not laughing at you. You’re a force to be reckoned with Adara.”

  “And don’t you forget it,” she blurted, yet there was no bite to her words. He had hired Adara not long after he became chief of staff, because they had worked together as interns when they were first starting out. He knew little about her personal life but at the office she was spunky and didn’t take shit off of anybody—Bradley included.

  “Did you need something boss?” she asked, a playful grin still on her face.

  “Can we review the agenda for the rest of the week? I need to squeeze a few more donor meetings into the schedule if we can.”

  Adara scowled at him. “You stretch yourself too thin Bradley.”

  He laughed. “It’s sweet of you to worry about me, but we’re working to send the man to the White House. We’re all going to be spread thin for the next year.”

  She sighed. “I don’t want to have to train a new boss when you keel over halfway through the campaign.”

  “Says the woman who gets here two hours early every day and doesn’t believe in days off,” Bradley snarked back.

  She was frowning at him, but he knew his calendar was already up on her screen. His assistant was not intimidated by him, and she ran his office like a well-oiled machine. She had the knowledge and skill to run a campaign on her own someday, but she wasn’t fond of public appearances. In fact, the last time he tried to get her to go on an evening news panel there had been fear in her eyes, so he stopped pushing.

  She rattled off appointments and whether she could move them. Once they narrowed down free times, he handed her a handwritten list of the people he wanted to meet. She would have the appointments scheduled before lunch.

  “Mrs. Devlin will be at the luncheon you’re going to next week. If you’re mingling game is strong, you can squeeze in some face time with her there.” She clicked something else on her computer. “And don’t forget your lunch with Miss Jacobs is in thirty minutes, and your meeting with the senator is at three o’clock.”

  Bradley grimaced at the mention of lunch with Peggy Jacobs, then chastised himself for having negative thoughts about his friend. He felt bad it didn’t seem like their current arrangement was working out. Adara must have sensed his displeasure because she asked him if she should reschedule.

  He shook his head. It was rude to cancel a date last minute. And in a city as busy as D.C. it was downright mean. He sighed.

  “I should get going. Call a car for me please.”

  Ten minutes later, Bradley sat in the backseat of a black SUV heading to Acqua al 2. He was talking—more like listening—to a very chatty Peggy.

  Is she still talking? He held the phone away from his ear to muffle the sound of the talkative girl on the other end. He had only called to let her know he was on his way to meet her. This is why they invented texting.

  “Just be on time today, I've got a full schedule. We can talk more at lunch,” he said when she took a breath. Without waiting for a response, he ended the call, shoving the cellphone into the pocket of his dark navy dress slacks. He closed his eyes and willed himself to relax as the sunlight streaming into the car warmed his face. It was wrong to snap at her. He would apologize when he saw her.

  Fifteen minutes later, he arrived at the posh Italian restaurant near the capitol. It was Bradley’s favorite place to bring clients and partners for lunch. A heaping portion of Rigatoni alla Melanzane would help take his mind off the stress of the day. He climbed out of the car and told his driver he would be ready to leave in an hour and a half. He moved toward the trendy establishment thinking of how crazy his schedule was about to become. There would be few days off over the course of the next year, but it would be worth it to say he put Sean Atleigh in the White House.

  As he opened the restaurant door, a feminine voice cried out, “Hey watch it! You almost hit me in the face.” The exclamation shook Bra
dley out of his thoughts in time to see a beautiful redhead jump back as the door narrowly missed her cute nose.

  Chapter Two

  “My apologies Miss...” He stopped mid-sentence. It couldn’t be. This city is huge. What are the odds it’s her?

  “It’s alright. Are you meeting someone?” the woman asked, her head tilted up at him in the doorway.

  For a moment, Bradley felt dazed, but her voice broke through the fog.

  “Yes, in fact, she should be here any time.” He looked at his phone. Peggy was late. Again.

  “Me too.” She smiled as she spoke, and it was the most dazzling smile Bradley had seen in a while. She ran a hand through a wild mess of red curls framing a pale face. Her skin looked so smooth it begged for his touch, and he struggled to keep from reaching out to brush at a wayward curl.

  Bradley knew it was selfish, but he wanted to spend a few more minutes with this woman, see if she was who he guessed. He grinned down at her and said, “Let me buy you a drink to apologize for my clumsiness. We can chat while we wait for our lunch partners.”

  “Oh, that’s unnecessary.”

  “I insist,” he responded. He hoped Peggy would be even later than she already was. He kicked himself for his thoughts.

  “I have a feeling you’re used to getting your way,” she said with a hint of sarcasm. Or was it annoyance? He wasn’t sure. He wondered what she would think about his taste for getting his way in the bedroom. If she was the blogger he liked so much, she would be very receptive to the idea. It made his cock twitch.

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that. D.C. is fickle that way. If we’re both going to be waiting, we should move out of the doorway. The bar is a much more comfortable place to wait.”

  He winked as he pulled her out of the doorway to let an older couple pass. He didn’t let go of her arm when they were gone. Instead, he guided her past the hostess station to the bar.