Fields of Clover - THE SPECTER SERIES [book two]

Chapter THIRTEEN

Yevette Feilds

You give Patrick an apologetic wince as you pull yourself reluctantly from his arms to slide down off the counter. You grab your cell and cross to the living room looking at the name on the screen, Anderson Daley, of course he is calling again.. pressing the green accept call button.. "Good evening, father.." You greet the congressman somewhat formally..

"Yevette, I have called you several times today without hearing a word from you in return, and you are yet to explain why you won't be attending the country club luncheon?.. I'm flying back into the city tonight and I expect to see you there.." No doubt calling from his private jet somewhere in the air between DC and home, Anderson Daley's haughty tone drifts through the receiver to drown out any glimmer of happiness you had been feeling..

You turn around when you hear of Patrick following you into the room. He leans on the kitchen door frame, his eagle eyes watching you with intensity curiosity..

"Yes, sir.. My apologies.."  Your father is impossibly strict, with the highest of expectations.. You should have known he wouldn't allow you to skip the charity luncheon. Of course he wouldn't, because anything that reflects badly on him is unacceptable.. Patrick quirks an eyebrow at your subservient tone..

"You bring me such shame Yevette.. First with that ghastly divorce business and then with all your wild stories and accusations.. I had hoped that now the trial has been finalised that you would finally begin to accept reality girl, though I'm beginning to wonder if you have forgotten your place in the family.."

"No sir.. I understand it is important to you that I be there.. I will be in attendance.." You let your eyes wander over patricks muscular frame and dominant stance.. A sudden rebellious surge rushing through your veins.. "And I will be bringing a guest with me.. I apologise again for the tardiness of my RSVP.."

Patrick cocks his head, curiously..

"Mmm we shall see. I advise you to consider my words, remember your place. Goodnight, Yevette.." Your father hangs up before you can even reply..

You rub your temples and flop down onto the lounge with a sigh..

"So.. I'm meeting your paps' tomorrow then?.." Patrick looks at you, confused.. You don't blame him.. You can't be yourself around your father without copping the criticism, it's easier to continue being polite.. It is the way of the wasps..

"God, Patrick I'm sorry.. I should have asked you first.. I just find it difficult to say no to him.. And the luncheon is for charity.." You peer up at him with pleading eyes..

He smiles and shakes his head, pushing off the wall, crossing the floor and plopping onto the sofa beside you.. "It's all good, princess, I'm happy to go, 'specially if it means I get to spend more time with you.."

Heat spreads through your chest, but it's quickly extinguished by the idea of Patrick meeting your father.. "You're sweet, Paddykins.." You sigh, an uneasy feeling now rising in your stomach...
Maybe you shouldn't have told your father you were bringing somebody..
Maybe you've made a huge mistake.. Patrick is going to take one look at the world you come from and bolt.. And, you wouldn't blame him..

"I'm somethin'.. Hey?.." His hand comes to rest over yours on the suede sofa cushion.. "Who were you jus' now? I've never heard you - talk like that before.."

"Oh, you noticed that?" You cringe, hating that he's seeing the parts of your old life that you try to keep separate from your new one.. In your old life all that mattered was image, keeping up appearances and sticking to the rules.. Anderson's rules..

Can you really allow Patrick to see that side of yours double-existence?

Which reminds you.. "Crap.. I didn't even consider.." You groan regretfully..

"What?" He asks, sliding a little closer to you..

"You don't happen to own a designer suit by any chance? The country club is.. Well, kinda fancy.." 'Fancy' isn't the world you want to use here, no, that's Patrick's word for it..
You would call it a 'snobbish overpriced cesspool of entitled, social climbing wasps who care more about their bank accounts and reputations then their own children'..
But you have a feeling that may be just a little too off putting for poor Patrick..

"I own a few.. I mean, I hate the damn things, but I'm not completely uncivilised, princess.." He grins wide with straight white teeth, dimples puckered..
You start to chuckle but a yawn takes over and you stretch your arms up over your head feeling the fatigue setting into your bones.. "Come on, let's get you to bed, sweetness.." He stands up and scoops you up into his arms and you squeal as the room spins around you.. You bury your face into his shoulder inhaling his fresh, clean citrus scent as he carries you through to your room and deposits you on the bed..

Before he can turn and leave, your hand shoots out clasping his, and you look up into his warm eyes.. "Patrick?..Stay with me.."