Ignoring him, I gave Evangelina a long, lingering kiss along with a smack on the ass. When the jet door opened, I followed Ty down the three stairs and into the freezing February air, then gave Evangelina a final wave before the door slid back into place.

A chauffeur-driven car was waiting for us on the tarmac. After throwing my bags into the trunk, we got inside to make the thirty-minute drive from Dulles into the city. The trip flew by as I worked on fielding work emails. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t ignore the growing anxiety I felt about Dad summoning me to chat. It felt as if an ominous cloud of uncertainty had overtaken me, though I had no reason to believe anything negative was about to go down.

When we arrived at the Jefferson Hotel, I inhaled a deep breath. Because of his love of all things historical, Dad adored the Jefferson. Whenever he had to stay in the city, he always preferred to stay there. Now it was doubling as his private campaign headquarters before he headed back on the road.

We were met at the elevators by one of the staffers. Dad had so many minions running around that I didn’t bother trying to learn their names. I always just faked a look of familiarity while shaking their hand. A quick, “Hey, man, how’s it going?” went a long way in someone’s mind. Of course, when it was a female staffer, I made sure not to say ‘sweetheart’ or ‘honey’ for fear it would be construed as sexist.

After a quick ride up, we stepped into the penthouse and made our way to the dining room. My dad sat at the head of the table flanked by three of his closest advisors. If he got elected president, I was sure they would make it into his cabinet. Dad rose out of his chair. “I’m so happy to see you, son.”

“I’m happy to see you, too, Dad.” I wasn’t blowing smoke up his ass just to suck up; it was the honest-to-God truth. While my parents might’ve been wealthy, I hadn’t grown up like the other kids at my prep schools. My mom had help from a nanny, but she was the one who raised us kids. If Dad was elected president, Mom would probably be a cross between Jackie Kennedy and Laura Bush. She came from blue-blood roots, but she was very down to earth.

As for Dad, he really was the sitcom dad. He’d never been one of these politicians who donated some sperm so he could have a family of convenience to put on campaign posters. I admired the hell out of him.

One day, I hoped to be half the man he was. Clearly, I wasn’t there yet, and at twenty-seven, I wasn’t sure when my metamorphosis was going to begin. I figured I had time. After all, Dad hadn’t become a father until he was in his thirties, so I still had time to screw around…in more ways than one.

After giving me a quick hug, he motioned for me to have a seat next to him. As I sat down, I nodded in acknowledgement at the staffers. The only one I recognized was Dad’s campaign manager, Bernie George. “Afternoon, gentlemen.”

“Good afternoon, Barrett. I’m so glad you could make it,” Bernie said.

I jerked a thumb at Dad. “You keeping him in line?”

Bernie chuckled. “It’s a hard job, but someone has to do it.”

After a momentary lull in the conversation, I said, “Don’t keep me in suspense. What was so important that you had to reroute a plane for it?”

“As you know, my victories in New Hampshire and Iowa weren’t as solid as we would have liked.”

“Hey, you won, didn’t you? I mean, that’s the most important thing, especially since historically the winner in New Hampshire gets the nomination.”

“Yes, it is important, but it also means that going into Super Tuesday in a couple weeks, we have to find ways to widen my lead over my opponents if I’m to get the party’s nomination.” After unbuttoning his suit jacket, Dad leaned back in his chair. “We decided the best thing to do was hire an image consulting firm to help us prepare.”

“But during your senate runs, you always thought those firms were a joke.”

My father’s grave expression told me just how very serious he was. “Since I never had such narrow victories during those races, I decided to reevaluate my stance on them.”

“Spoken like a true politician.”

“After they did a thorough investigation, they found one area of my personal life that desperately needs improving.”

“And what was that?”

“You.”

My brows popped up. “Me? What the hell could they have possibly found wrong with me?”

“Your playboy lifestyle.”

“Oh please. I’m not a playboy.”

Dad’s gaze swept from mine over to his political best friend, Thomas Jenkins. After a nod, Thomas opened the manila envelope in front of him. “The image consultants did a survey of voters in the states with the largest electoral votes. They found the fact that you’re unmarried and not in a committed relationship, with either a female or a male, to be undesirable. Throw in the fact that you run with a group of young men and women who are considered spoiled trust-fund kids, and it makes you and your father seem out of touch to mainstream voters.”

Popping out of my chair like a jack-in-the-box, I jabbed my finger at Thomas. “I’m not some trust-fund twat flitting from one party to the next! I work fifty-hour weeks, if not more. I’m dedicated to The Callahan Corporation.” I threw up my hands in exasperation. “Did they tell the voters I have an MBA, for Christ’s sake?

Thomas shook his head. “They don’t concern themselves with your professional accomplishments, Barrett. For them, it’s about what they’ve read on Page Six, but most of all, it’s what they’ve seen on the internet.”