Fucking Governor Dorsey. He knew as soon as he brought out his private stock of twenty-three-year-old Pappy Van Winkle bourbon I wasn’t going to say no. I sat and drank the nectar, then indulged in Cuban cigars, as the politically entitled tried to convince me that my future lies in politics.

It doesn’t.

No matter how many times I tell everyone this, they seem to keep hoping. I’m not naïve. They know I have the stomach to fight dirty. And we need that in a candidate. Someone who will go toe-to-toe with the most corrupt. Unfortunately for them, my passion lies in what I already do.

I’m the best defense attorney in the United States, and I love the law. What other occupation lets you argue your idea and win?

I’m a master at making people bow to my words, twisting the truth to get my way. Christ, I just got a Disciple off for triple murder charges. The man was the enforcer, part of the infamous one percent MC. Not only did I get him acquitted, but at the end of the day, the Disciples also looked like heroes.

I fucking love my job.

So I told them until I get a hard-on at the thought of running for office, like I do every time I step into a courtroom, I’ll go to my grave as a defense attorney.

“I didn’t have time to let you know my schedule. My main focus is Jett and my career now.” Rachel’s voice goes up a notch, causing me to grit my teeth. I guess along with water, I should take some Advil.

A loud snort and a bored “Thanks, Mom” makes me stop right at the entrance. Christ, the daughter. I forgot about her.

“Oh please, you’re fucking nineteen. My job is done. Did you expect me to lie to you?”

“Well, since that’s what you usually do…” I can’t help but smirk at the sass coming out of the daughter’s mouth. Not that I blame her. Fucking snakes make better mothers than Rachel.

“Knock it off, Raven. I will not let you ruin things for me. Now go get dressed. Jett should be back—”

“Ruin things for you?” the daughter interrupts, her voice raspy as if she just woke up and rolled out of bed. And that’s when my cock decides it’s time to wake up.

Perfect.

“Look, clearly I cramp your style. So why don’t you just buy me the apartment in Manhattan, I’ll go back to New York now, and it will be like I was never here.”

Again, clever…

I adjust my erection to the other side before I enter, my headache completely forgotten, now replaced with a need to meet my future stepdaughter.

“No. Jett would think it’s weird,” Rachel snaps.