His Climb to Power (His Power Book 3) by Tasha Fawkes

Author:Tasha Fawkes [Fawkes, Tasha]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Safira Press LLC
Published: 2019-06-17T18:30:00+00:00

12 Blythe

“Yes, I hear that. Scandal can be good for business,” I said even as I winced. Gripping the phone in my hand, I tried to tune out the curious stares from Rachel, Riley, and Carl. This was my last phone call of the day, and it could land us our biggest contributor of the dozens of calls we’d made.

Janice Roberts was the wayward daughter of a billionaire in South Carolina, but she didn’t like to be close to her daddy, just daddy’s money, so she spent most of her time at the beachside in Florida. Her favorite things to do, other than catching the golden rays of the sun, was having her name in the papers. A little thing like being connected to a previously suspected murderer would mean nothing to her.

“As I was saying, we’re looking for support for the arts center, and I hear that you’re a wonderful singer.”

“How much do you want?” Janice interrupted in a bored tone.

“That would be completely up to you, although if you didn’t want to donate money and wanted to donate your time instead…”

The twenty-three-year-old snorted. “Cute, but I know you want money. I’ll have my accountant send over a check. In the meantime, I have a question I’ve been wanting to ask you.”

She did? I didn’t even realize that Janice knew who I was. “Sure.”

“Is Congressman Drayson as hard under all those clothes as he appears? I bet he’s a good fuck, isn’t he? All that pent-up frustration from his job just waiting to let loose.” She moaned, and I winced. How the hell was I supposed to be diplomatic and answer that?

“Um…”

Instead of waiting for an answer, she just laughed. “Never mind. It’s probably better if I just stick to my fantasies. My accountant will email you once we finalize the details. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a party that I need to get to.”

She hung up before I could thank her, and I held my breath and lowered the phone to the receiver. “She said that she’d call her accountant and send us a check.”

The room cheered, and I pumped my fist as I grinned at the newcomer. Riley quickly became a fixture at our little office above the Sunglass Hut. I had been afraid he was all talk, but he was immediately helpful. Our sad, highlighted list of donors had been transferred to a large notepad set up on a stand so that we could all see the names. Riley was helping us figure out a personalized plan of attack to recoup as many donations as possible.

“These people are sheep,” he explained. “One of them gets scared, they all run. If we can get a few of them back as the leaders, the flock will follow.”

Riley’s energy was infectious. I normally hated calling donors, even when things were going well. Now, I was talking to them on the phone like they were my best friends, swallowing back my distaste at dealing with people who would

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