But Radical produced a birth certificate with his name on it, and informed him that her mom had recently died from a drug overdose, and that she had nowhere else to go.
Two paternity tests later, Hammond was forced to admit that this strange unruly teenager with streaks of green in her dyed black hair, multiple piercings, and a snotty attitude was indeed his.
Sierra, being the kind and thoughtful person that she was, had insisted that Radical join the family.
‘We have to take her in,’ Sierra had lectured him. ‘She’s your daughter. You have no choice. Think of your public image if you don’t.’
Finally Hammond had agreed, terrified that the sudden appearance of an illegitimate teenage daughter would wreak havoc with his carefully projected image.
The public, it turned out, still loved Hammond and Sierra. They were accepting of Hammond’s youthful transgression. Sexual scandals involving politicians were nothing new, and with Sierra next to him, Hammond could do no wrong.
Radical turned out to be a nightmare. Rude and wilful, she caused trouble wherever she went. She hated her father, and he hated her right back.
Angry that he was stuck with her, Hammond soon packed her off to boarding school in Switzerland, even forcing Sierra to agree that it was for the best.
Radical went. But not without a fight.
When Hammond’s assistant, Nadia, entered his office and showed him the fancy invitation, he didn’t hesitate. Without checking with Sierra, he instructed Nadia to immediately accept.
Hammond smelled big money, major campaign contributions when the time came for him to run, for he was well aware that important connections were everything. Plus this was a fine chance for him to start planting the seeds of his unstoppable ambition.
Yes, Hammond knew a viable opportunity when it came his way. He was no fool.
Sierra Kathleen Snow was born into great privilege. Her father was the well-respected Pulitzer Prize winner Archibald Snow, an academic and renowned writer of history tomes, while her mother, Phoebee, was a true New York society beauty whose family dated back to the Founding Fathers.
Sierra had an older sister, Clare, who was married to a pediatrician and had written a series of best-selling books about parenting. Clare and her husband had three young children, and resided in Connecticut. Sierra also had a brother, Sean, who lived in Hawaii with a woman he’d picked up on the beach.
Clare was the darling of the family, while Sean was the dark side. Sierra was somewhere in the middle.
At thirty-two, Sierra was still not sure where she fitted in.
She was Archibald and Phoebee Snow’s daughter. She was Hammond Patterson’s wife. She was Clare Snow’s sister. But who was she really?
Every morning, upon waking, she asked herself that question.
It was a question that haunted her, because she honestly didn’t know the answer.
Her illustrious parents disapproved of Hammond; although they’d never actually said it out loud, she knew that they did. When Radical had appeared on the scene, the expression on her mother’s face had said it all:
A rogue who harboured aspirations to eventually become President of America. With her by his side.
The very thought made Sierra shudder. She’d been married to Hammond for eight years and didn’t love him. She’d started off thinking that she did, but after a while she’d realized that she’d married him to get over a broken heart, and that he’d married her because of her impeccable pedigree and family connections.
Hammond was not the man he’d pretended to be.
He was a psychopath. A very clever psychopath.
To the world he presented a smiling honest face, a nice-looking man filled with empathy and caring. With his brown hair, regular features and captivating smile, he seemed like such an open book. However, Hammond’s public persona was way different in private. Sierra knew for a fact that he was a bigot, a misogynist, and hated gays. He had a cruel tongue and a nasty sadistic streak. He talked about everyone in a disparaging way, including her family, and he loathed his own father. He was forever voicing his wishes that the man would drop dead of a sudden heart attack.
At first she’d tried to dig into his psyche, discover where all this anger came from. It was a lost cause. The charming attentive man she’d married had turned into a secret monster who actually scared her, which was why she hadn’t left him.
Two years into their marriage she’d realized what a fraud he was, and she’d threatened to divorce him. Very calmly he’d informed her that if she ever left him, he’d arrange to have her entire family killed, and that he would make sure she was maimed for life.
Shocked and horrified, she’d considered going to the police. But who would believe her story? She was Sierra Patterson, wife of the up-and-coming politician, Hammond Patterson, a man who fought for everyone’s rights — including those of gays and women.
It was an impossible situation, and to make it even worse, Hammond was continually unfaithful, sleeping with any woman he could get his hands on.
When she confronted him about his indiscretions, he’d sneered at her. ‘What am I supposed to do?’ he’d said with cold indifference. ‘Fucking you is like fucking a dead fish.’
Sierra knew she should leave, but Hammond’s threats were all too real, and she simply couldn’t summon the courage to get out. What if he went through with them and actually harmed her family? She knew without a doubt that he was capable of anything.
So Sierra stayed and threw herself into helping people. She visited children’s hospitals, formed a rape prevention group, rallied for battered women, and did everything she could to take her mind off her miserable life at home.
Hammond was pleased. He’d been right about Sierra, she was the perfect politician’s wife. A beautiful and gracious woman who was also a do-gooder.
What could be better for a man on his way to the top?
Chapter Seven
Bianca reached for a towel, wrapping it around her smooth gleaming body as she moved closer to Aleksandr.
He seized a corner of the towel and roughly pulled it away from her. The towel fluttered to the ground.
‘You are so beautiful,’ he said, his voice a throaty growl as he began rubbing his thick fingers against her extended nipples. ‘Such a fine woman, and all mine.’
Bianca experienced a shiver of delight and responded accordingly. Whenever Aleksandr wanted her, she was ready.
Early on in their relationship she’d learned from Aleksandr that his wife was a sexually cold woman who’d informed him shortly after they were married that his very touch repulsed her.
Apparently his money hadn’t.
Bianca didn’t care that he was so enormously rich. She genuinely cared about the man, and the way he was able to turn her on with nothing more than a glance. His dark eyes were deeper than a glacier, she could never tell what he was thinking. His touch was strong and manly. As for his equipment — perfection. Long and thick and solid,
