"Promise whatever it takes, I don’t care." Mom’s tone is as sharp as a shard of glass. "Handle it."
She ends the call with a groan that sounds suspiciously like a growl but doesn't turn around to look at me. Doesn't acknowledge that I'm sitting here falling apart, just inches from her.
The silence stretches between us like a chasm until I can’t take it anymore.
"Mom," I start, my voice barely audible over the sound of my heart pounding. "You know this isn't me, right? You know I would never—"
"Not now, Rona."
Her tone hits me like a slap across the face. She still won’t look at me, even as she returns her attention to her phone. Soon, her fingers move on the screen as she mutters under her breath and then she’s on another call. She didn’t even ask me if it's real or offer any sign that she believes me when I tell her the woman in the video is not me. She just went straight into damage control mode, like the truth doesn’t really matter.
Maybe I’m naive to think that it does.
The door opens quietly, and I look up to see Caroline enter, her wings still fluttering nervously, but drooping just a little, her usually perfect hair disheveled from its perfect bob. Behind her, filling the doorway with his imposing presence, is Mom’s head of security, Darhg Rooke. The ogre appears almost surreal next to Caroline’s four-foot pixie stature.
My stomach bottoms out.
Of all the people in the world I don't want thinking I could strip and get drunk in public, he's at the top of the list. Seven feet of bulging muscular power, black hair cropped military short, sharp angular features and white tusks protruding from his bottom jaw make for an intimidating and efficient bodyguard. His deep-amber eyes seem to notice everything all at once as he casts a circular glance around the room. He's so handsome, with his dark mustard-yellow skin and perfectly square jaw, that I feel like a bug on the wall next to him.
A bug on the wall with a target on her back. Yay me.
I've had a stupid crush on him for months, watching him from across rooms, never gathering the courage to go up and talk to him. I just kept glancing his way, wondering what it would be like if he ever noticed me. If he ever really saw me. Well, he's seeing me now. Right after watching a video of someone who looks exactly like me stripping naked for a crowd of drunk college students. Like a fucking idiot.
I want to die.
Our eyes meet for just a moment, and I search his face for any hint of emotion. Judgment, disgust, disappointment. Anything. But his expression remains completely neutral, professional. He turns his attention to Mom without so much as a flicker of acknowledgment, and somehow that feels worse than outright condemnation. Like I don't even exist.
I feel like a naughty little girl in a time-out, not a twenty-three-year-old woman about to graduate college.
“I’ll call you in five minutes and you better have an answer by then.” Mom ends her call and turns to Darhg.
"Senator," Darhg says, his voice that low rumble that always makes my pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons.
"Darhg." Mom's relief at his presence is obvious. "Thank you for coming."
All he does is nod and for some reason, my stomach does this ridiculous little flip like every time I look at him too long.
Caroline steps forward, her features set in determined lines.
"Senator, I have a solution," Caroline says, bringing her hands up as she speaks. "Rona needs to issue a public apology for the video. Right here, right now, at the fundraiser. A quick press conference to take responsibility for her actions and move past this. It's the best way to quickly bury that scandal and protect your family's reputation."
All blood drains from my face in a split second.
"What?" I shoot up from my chair, outraged. “Caroline, no. Absolutely not.”
"Rona—" she starts.
"No," I cut her off more firmly, trying without succeeding to control the tremors in my voice. "I'm not apologizing for something I didn't do."
Mom watches me as I speak. She’s not saying anything, but I can see in her face that she doesn't believe me. She doesn't believe the video is fake. It’s so unfair I could scream.
“Rona, honey, I know you're embarrassed, but denial isn't going to help here. The video came from your own Asterion account, for goodness’ sake!” Caroline's expression shifts to something that looks almost pitying. “You're a college student. College students do wild things sometimes. No one's going to judge you for being young and making a mistake.”
The condescension in her voice makes my blood boil. No way I’m going to let her do this to me.
"I'm not in denial, and I'm not embarrassed about something I didn't do. That video is fake, and if I apologize for it, I'm basically confirming that it's real. Which it's not."
I glance at my mother, who still stares at me with the kind of poker face that could have won her a fortune. Not that she needs it. She’s loaded.
