No wonder Amanda responded to dominance like someone starved for guidance and affection. He couldn’t help but marvel at her strength in coping and overcoming. Finally, all the pieces of the puzzle that was Amanda fell into place.
“Just know you deserved better,” he said, wrapping one hand around the back of her neck, tipping her head, and pulling her in for a deep kiss. One that told her she was most definitely wanted, needed … and most definitely loved.
Yeah, he was feeling the emotion. He didn’t need a dictionary to spell it out for him. Nor did he intend to do so for Amanda. For one thing, he needed time to adjust to the heady emotions and what went along with them. Not to mention the absolute stark fear that he could wake up one day and she’d be gone. After all, he’d experienced it for himself once before.
THIRTEEN
One month passed, during which Amanda felt like she was living a dream. One she’d never allowed herself to have. During the week, she performed a job she loved, scheduling conferences for Brad, handling his daily affairs, and joking with her best friend. And on the weekends, she saw Decklan. Either he flew to D.C. or she traveled to New York. They fell into a routine, one she was beginning to believe could last—if she could delicately extricate herself from Brad’s life.
She didn’t know how he’d feel about them breaking up and him having to dodge his father’s requests that he bring a date to the many functions that routinely came up for the senator and his family. And if the man ran for president, as was widely rumored—not that he’d made a decision but Brad said he was close—then those events would be even more important and prominent.
But she couldn’t help but feel it was time, and she didn’t doubt he’d understand. She’d give him whatever leeway he needed to break the news to his father. But she needed to tell Decklan everything. There was no question she trusted him not to make the news public. And he deserved the truth.
Midweek, the telephone in the office rang, startling her out of her thoughts. “Hello, Ritter’s World,” she said, smiling, always amused by the company name. Bradley had refused to succumb to the mundane or anything corporate-sounding, like Ritter Software or Ritter, Inc.
“Amanda? It’s Stephan Ritter.”
She sat up straighter in her seat. “Senator!” She wished she’d checked caller ID before answering. “How are you?”
“How many times do I have to tell you, call me Stephan? How would it look for my future daughter-in-law to be so formal with me?” he asked.
Her hand started to shake, and her stomach accompanied it with a silent roll. “Stephan, you know you’re getting ahead of yourself.”
“It’s just a matter of time,” he said with certainty. “If my son can get his head out of his computer long enough to think straight, I’m certain it will be sooner rather than later. How are you?” he asked.
“Fine,” she managed to say without choking on the word. She’d never had a problem talking to Brad’s father before, but she’d never had regrets about her situation either.
“I’m just calling to ask you and Bradley to be at my fund-raiser in New York on Sunday.”
She glanced at the big desk calendar she kept up to date in case Brad wanted a quick glance. “Is this something new? Because I don’t see it on the schedule.”
He chuckled at that. “Yes, I have news, and I want my family there for the announcement.”
“Umm …”
He laughed. “Let my son make use of that fancy private plane of his,” Stephan said.
She and Decklan hadn’t decided who would be making the trip where yet, but it looked like she’d be heading to Manhattan. “Sure. I’ll let Brad know,” she assured the senator.
“That’s great. The family angle is an important one to the party. So wear your Sunday finest. It’s at The Plaza.”
She winced at the mention of his political allies.
“Okay, have to go make more calls. I’ll see you this weekend.” He hung up before she could reply.
She leaned back in her chair and groaned.
“Anything wrong?” Brad walked out of his office, wearing a Suicide Bunny tee shirt and a pair of faded jeans. Not an outfit his father’s political cronies would approve of.
“No, but you’re going to have to free up your Sunday.” She pushed her chair back and rose to her feet. “I just spoke to your father. He wants us to be at an important fund-raiser at The Plaza.”
“Oh shit. Seriously? I promised Keith we’d go to a show on Sunday.” Brad stalked to the window and looked out over the city. “Can we get out of this one?”
“It didn’t sound like it. He pushed the family angle and mentioned how important it was to the party.”
Well, maybe she could see Decklan before, talk to him and explain things before she made her appearance with Brad. But first she’d have to tell Brad what she was thinking.
She rubbed her temples, feeling a headache forming.