“Actually, I was planning to leave with some friends,” I say, standing as well.
Her eyes narrow. “What friends?”
“From the university. They’re here tonight.”
“Mara—”
“Mother, I’ve done everything you asked. I smiled for the cameras, I answered questions about Chase, I sat through dinner, and posed for photos and played the perfect daughter. I’d like to leave with my friends now, unless you’d prefer I make a scene about it.”
The threat is implicit but clear. After this morning’s ultimatum about the invitations, she knows I’m willing to follow through.
She glances at my father, who’s surrounded by cabinet members and clearly not paying attention to us.
“Fine. But you will be at the White House brunch tomorrow morning. Nine a.m. sharp. And you’ll wear something appropriate.”
“Of course.”
I don’t wait for her to change her mind. I grab my clutch and make my way across the ballroom toward where the boys are standing near the exit.
That’s when I see him.
A Secret Service agent, one I recognize from my father’s detail, approaching their table with purposeful strides. Behind him, two more agents.
No.
“Gentlemen, I’m going to need to see your identification and verify your presence on tonight’s guest list.”
“We have invitations,” Talon says smoothly, pulling the embossed card from his jacket.
“I’m aware, but there’s been a question raised about the validity of your attendance. If you’ll come with us, we can sort this out privately.”
“Sort what out? We were invited; we have the invitations. What’s the problem?” Dredyn asks, his voice raised.
“Sir, I’m going to ask you to lower your voice and come with us?—”
“No.”
The word rings out through the ballroom like a gunshot.
Everyone within earshot turns to look. Conversations halt mid-sentence. Even the string quartet seems to pause.
And I realize the voice was mine.
“Is there a problem?” I ask, voice carrying across the sudden silence.
The lead agent turns to me, recognition and discomfort flashing across his face. “Miss Black, this doesn’t concern you?—”
“These gentlemen are my guests,” I say clearly—loudly enough that the entire room can hear. “I specifically requested their presence tonight. So if there’s a question about the validity of their attendance, I suggest you take it up with me.”
“Miss Black, I have orders?—”
“Orders from whom? Because my father is the President of the United States, and I can assure you he approved their attendance this morning. Furthermore,” I continue, positioningmyself between the agents and the boys, “these men are officers of Omega Chi Kappa, a fraternity with deep ties to this administration. Dredyn Steele, son of James Steele, one of the President’s most trusted security advisors. Talon Reed, son of Senator Michael Reed. And Jasper Thorne, son of Anthony Thorne, whose technology contracts are integral to national security.”
I’m name-dropping, using their fathers’ positions as shields, and I can see the calculation happening behind the agent’s eyes. Removing them now, in front of this audience, with this much attention, would create exactly the kind of incident I threatened this morning.
“So I’ll ask again, is there a problem with my guests?”
The agent’s jaw works. Behind him, I can see my father’s Chief of Staff frantically making his way through the crowd, clearly trying to contain this situation before it spirals further.
