Read DARK PARADISE - A Political Romantic Suspense for Free Online Page A

stoic
expressions as their father speaks. Their haircuts usually match, though
they’re parted on opposite sides. One is left-handed. Both men exude darkness
and mystery as if it’s coded in their DNA.
    “Ronan and Keir . . .” She exhales. “And there you are, my princes. I would give it all up for
you, and I wouldn’t even be picky either. Either one of you will do, really.”
    “I don’t think I’ve ever seen
you so smitten.”
    Araminta grins.
“I’d make a great First Lady, wouldn’t I? I was practically bred for this shit.
Daddy Dearest would be so proud.”
    She walks to the TV, placing a French
manicured finger on the upper corner where the blue-eyed, raven-haired,
future-leaders-of-the-free-world stand side by side with stick-straight posture
and hands clasped in front of their narrow hips.
    “I bet you were good at Where’s Waldo when you were a kid,” I
say.
    “What’s that?” She turns toward
me, her question sincere. Sometimes I forget that she grew up as one of eight Randalls in an estate fit for a king in the Connecticut
countryside. Raised by a team of nannies and forced to adhere to a schedule
filled with riding, tennis, and French lessons, I doubt Araminta had time for Where’s Waldo . “Is that
a Tennessee thing?”
    “Never mind.”
    She takes her seat again, eyes
glued. The camera pans the faces of the well-dressed men and women who stand
behind the president, and then it lingers on his sons for a solid thirty
seconds.
    Araminta fans
herself. “Just looking at them gets me all revved up.”
    “You and every other red-blooded,
American woman.” I smirk. “Or, rather, blue-blooded.”
    “I wish they’d smile. They
never fucking smile.”
    “Would you if you were them?
Living your life under a magnifying glass all the time? Every move you make one
hundred percent public?”
    “If I were a Montgomery, I’d
never stop smiling, dahhhling . That
name opens doors. Moves mountains . It’s only one of
the most powerful bloodlines on the planet. The entire world is at their
fingertips. I mean, sure, I grew up a Randall, for Christ’s sake, but the Montgomerys are leagues above us. Tell me that isn’t
something to smile about.”
    “Oh, look.” I rise up, pointing
at the screen. Keir just flashed a two-second smile
at someone to his left. “Did you see? He has dimples.”
    “Here we go.” Minty rolls her
eyes and fights a smirk.
    “Did I tell you my John has
dimples? He let me feel them last night.”
    “Maybe your John is Keir Montgomery?”
    “Doubtful. A man like him doesn’t
pay for sex.”
    She shrugs. “Maybe he doesn’t
need to. Some guys just get off on that. Kinky sons of bitches.”
    “I’m going to pretend my John
is Keir from now on.” I settle into my seat and close
my eyes, imagining it was Keir’s lips on my body and Keir’s fingers between my
thighs last night. My chest flutters, and my lips inch up. “From now on, I’m
fucking Keir Montgomery.”
    In my head.
    “God, you know how dangerous
that would be? To be involved with one of them? There’d be a price on your head
so high. Ugh. I wouldn’t go anywhere alone. I guarantee you, someone somewhere
would jump at the chance to set one of them up in some kind of political
scandal. A dead escort tied to the Montgomery name?” Araminta shudders before smiling. “But hey, it’d be one way to guarantee that no one
would ever forget your name.”

 
 
 

SIX

 
    “John”

 
    “What’s it like to know you can
fuck any woman who walks into this bar and have zero repercussions the next
day?” I spin an empty tumbler between my thumb and middle finger as Oliver
D’Orsay checks out a group of women standing around a high top table ten feet
from us. The brunette in the red dress has been eye-fucking him since we got
here.
    “Fucking incredible.” He grips
his water glass. He’s shopping. He has that gleam in his eye. He combs his
fingers through his styled blond hair. “I want her tonight.