“You blew up my company to keep me from blackmailing the president,” I say and sigh heavily.
“Yes,” she says. “I won’t let you get in harm's way.”
“You don’t get to decide that,” I say defiantly, and she chuckles challengingly.
“Get used to it, Princess,” she says, and the last words caress through my chest like silk—a fact I will also never acknowledge.
“I won’t,” I say coldly.
“You better, because you’re mine now.”
I only growl. I am still getting used to the whole change of dynamics thing.
“Hey,” she says, “You also get to see the real me now,” she says. “I had to burn Ella for this.”
“Can’t wait,” I say darkly and hang up.
I close my eyes and rub them because she pushes me over the edge, every day a little bit more.
“I guess we’re not flying to Washington?” Doug asks.
“I guess we’re not,” I say. Doug pats my shoulder softly. It dawned on me in the last three days, as we worked out the plan to blackmail the president, that he actually likes her and apparently quite enjoys how she handles me.
We’re back in the car at Teterboro Airport when my father calls.
“Yes,” I answer. I still haven’t forgotten the last time we talked. He hasn’t called since, not even when the news hit, I was shot in front of my door.
“Are you alright?” he asks.
“I am alive, yes,” I answer. “I was about to step into my jet when the news hit. I am on my way there now.”
“Good, good,” he says and flatly adds, “Give your mother a call. She’s worried sick, even called me.” He hangs up without another word; his daughter's company being blown up doesn’t fit his narrative.
So, I call my mother. Something I never do. Out of reasons.
She chatters me to death the entire way back to the company and lets me in on all the amazing plans for her birthday.
Her birthday. I have completely forgotten about it.
While I don’t actively listen to my mother's words, I text my assistant to arrange a birthday present for my mother and let him know I’ll be giving a press statement in thirty.
“I must hang up, Mother,” I finally get to say when we approach the company and press the red button with relief.
“Urgh,” I curse. “That woman!”
Now, I have to focus on giving a statement that works with Kat’s idiotic plan.
As we near the company, I can already see the chaos—firefighters, sirens, blue lights, and people all around.
“Ready?” Doug asks, and I nod. “We have tight security, just in case.”
I nod again, and he gets out to open my door.
All sorts of reporters and media representatives throw themselves at me, but I wish to speak to the firefighters and present police first. Afterwards, I turn to the media.
I tell them the narrative that it was an attack on our software, which went down more or less successfully.
“As far as I know,” I say, “Everything burned down. We had a security copy in a highly secure location in Elmsford that has also been attacked. I therefore believe it was an inside job, which seems likely at this point, given that we recently uncovered an internal threat. Having in mind that Jared Sutton was killed, and there were attempted attacks on my life as well, this is a tragic escalation no one could see coming.”
