"Maybe I will release deep fakes of you whoring yourself out to a foreign prince. Maybe I will release the recordings I have of you calling your donors fat sloppy fools with more money than sense. Or maybe I will just turn the other politicians in my pocket against you."
My mother looked to the side, past the wall of Russian men in perfectly tailored suits to where the press waited, cameras ready to interview the next person in line.
Her rage and indignation faltered, but it wasn’t because she was concerned about me.
She was worried about causing a scene.
Concerned about being a headline for all the wrong reasons.
Her eyes flickered to my necklace, to Darius, and then back to the press. I could practically hear her train of thought.
Can I make this work for me?
Would he really kill her in front of all these people? If he does, how can I spin the story to make me the victim and to make sure no one asks why I was targeted? What excuse could I give? Could I campaign off her public execution?
Darius must have seen the same calculation behind her eyes that I did because his hand slid from my lower back around to my hip before his arm wrapped completely around my waist, tucking me against his side like I was something precious he refused to let anyone else touch. Subtly angling me back so he was between my mother and me. It was almost…protective.
"If you hurt her here, you'll be arrested, and the rest of your life will be lived in prison," she warned. "I will make sure they take you all in."
"No, you won't," Darius laughed. "You are not the only government official on my payroll, and if I did this, the others would know there are consequences to their actions. Not to mention you would lose at least half of your constituents."
"You can't?—"
" I can." He leaned in toward my mother, hovering over her, making sure she knew exactly how genuine his threats were. "Oh, you didn't think that people liked you, did you? You didn't think that all those people actually came out of their homes to vote for you because they’re fans of yours?"
He gave a lowtsksound in the back of his throat, and I got the feeling that this wasn't just business anymore.
"You do not scare me," my mother said, lifting her chin, but I could see the cracks in her bravado.
"Senator, I should terrify you. Do you really think that hurting your daughter is the worst thing I can do to you? No,she's here to prove a point. How many of your votes do you think I paid for? How many of your donors will vanish if I no longer back you?"
She faltered, her jaw tight as she ran through the scenarios in her head and realized that whatever she was thinking, whatever plan she had, wasn't solid enough.
It wasn't about losing me. It was about losing leverage, about losing an election, her fan base.
"I'll be in touch," she said before turning her back on me and marching straight into the fray, ready to shake hands and take photos with potential backers.
"Well," one of the larger men, the one who had a staring contest with Darius before, said. "Is that how we're supposed to function without emotion?"
Darius turned on him, and the man just smirked, then they all walked back to their wives and into the building.
"Let's go," Darius said as he led me up the steps to the side more private entrance. His hand stayed locked on my waist, guiding me, controlling every step I took. I tried to move with him, but black spots danced in my vision and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.
I pushed the panic down and walked up the stairs. Careful to not let it show.
As we entered the doorway, I stumbled, and the cracks pushed through my mask. Darius spun me around, crowding me against the wall in a dark corner, his body shielding me from view.
"Breathe," he demanded. My body, my traitorous body, took in one deep breath and then another. But the room spun around me, my vision blurry as a tear fell.
"I'm sorry," I choked out. "I'm so sorry, I'm not trying to cause a scene. Just give me a minute and I will be fine and I'll–"
"Breathe,maya soloveyka," he whispered, his hands cupping the sides of my face with a gentleness that contradicted everything he was. His forehead pressed against mine. "Nothing else matters, just breathe."
"Please let me go," I whispered tightly before the first sob broke, shaking my shoulders and blocking my throat.
"You got what you wanted. You proved your threat wasn't idle, and you humiliated my mother. Please let me go. Your message landed. She knows that you have more leverage. She cares about her votes more than she cares about me. If you threaten that, then you don't need me. You don’t…need me."
Once the sobs started, I couldn't make them stop.
