TWO
MARA
Istand in the foyer of Chase’s penthouse apartment before his hand finally releases my elbow. Behind us, the door locks with an electronicbeep.
“I had the staff stock the bathroom with your favorite products.”
“How thoughtful,” I manage, my voice flat.
He studies me for a moment. “You’re angry.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“You’re angry,” he repeats. “But you’ll get over it. Once you understand that this is for the best, for both of us, you’ll see that your father made the right choice.”
My father. Notourfathers, not the Syndicate, not evenwe. Justmyfather. As if Clark Black orchestrated this entire nightmare on his own. As if Chase is just an innocent bystander, caught up in someone else’s machinations.
“I’d like to go to my room now.”
“Of course.” He gestures down the hallway. “I’ll have some food brought up in an hour. We should eat together, start establishing routines?—”
“I’m not hungry.”
His hand catches my wrist. “I know tonight was overwhelming—the announcement, the media, leaving your… friends. But we’re going to get through this, together. You just need time to adjust.”
Friends. The word is a slap, reducing Dredyn, Talon, and Jasper to casual acquaintances instead of the men who own pieces of my soul.
“Time. Right. How much time do I have before the wedding?”
“We haven’t set a date yet. Your father thinks a summer ceremony would be?—”
I pull my wrist free. “Good night, Chase.”
I don’t wait for his response, just turn and walk down the hallway on legs that threaten to buckle with every step.
The bedroom has cream walls, designer furniture, and a king-sized bed with too many decorative pillows. There’s even a vase of fresh white roses on the nightstand, because of course there is.
I close the door and lean against it, finally allowing my carefully constructed mask to crack. My hands shake as I reach up to remove the diamond earrings my mother insisted I wear tonight. They’re worth more than most people make in a year.
I drop them on the dresser.
The dress comes next. I peel it off like shedding skin, letting the fabric pool on the floor. Underneath, I’m wearing the black lace set that Talon picked out three weeks ago, back when I still thought I had choices.
Back when I still thought I could be theirs.
You are still theirs.Distance doesn’t change that.
But does it matter what I am if I’m locked in a gilded cage?
I move to the window, pressing my palm against the glass. Twenty stories below, the city sparkles with lights and traffic and people who have no idea that the President-elect’s daughter is trapped in her own engagement.
Slowly, I turn in a circle, scanning the room with new eyes. There—another light. This one, hidden in the bookshelf. And there, in the decorative mirror frame, and in the smoke detector that’s positioned oddly close to the bed.
Four cameras.
Chase is watching me. Or having me watched, which is somehow worse.
I move to the bathroom—it’s the only room without obvious camera placement—and I turn on the shower, letting the water run hot and loud, creating a wall of white noise.
