Page 10 of No Longer Mine

In my family, surprises were better. Once something was out in the open, there was no turning back, no chance for anyone to talk you out of it. And that was exactly how I needed it to stay.

At the door to the ice cream shop, my campaign manager, London, and my assistant Presley, were waiting for me. She smiled for the cameras as we exited, exuding the calm confidence I’d hired her for. I put on my best “stern but content” face, projecting the perfect balance of control and relatability for the press. Presley trailed behind us with her clipboard and phone out.

As soon as we were out of range of the snapping cameras and shouting reporters, London turned to me, her professional mask slipping just enough to let her excitement shine through.

“You’re a natural,” she beamed.

London and I hadn’t been working together for long, but I could already see the telltale signs of admiration in her eyes. I hired her only a few days after I hired Presley. Sometimes, when she looked at me for too long, her gaze turned a little too soft, and a little too hopeful. I kept things strictly professional. She was one of the best in the business, and I couldn’t afford to lose her over something as trivial as a crush.

“Thank you,” I said, adjusting one of the buttons on my shirt as Don pulled up to the curb.

I motioned for London to get in first, but she shook her head, clutching her tablet like it was her lifeline. “I have meetings all afternoon for you. Presley and I will head back to the office. Just remember, you have a packed schedule tomorrow with interviews. Please, please be on time.”

“I wouldn’t miss it,” I said smoothly, sliding into the car as she turned back toward the shop.

My keys jingled as I yanked them out of the lock on my brownstone. Living here wasn’t bad, aside from the one break-in. Since then, I’d beefed up my security system to the point that even Benson was satisfied. Not that there was much anyone could take from me—not physically, at least. The important things were locked in a vault.

Still, I had a few personal items I wanted to keep my sights on, just in case.

The moment I flicked the lights on in the living room, my instincts kicked in. My back went rigid, my pulse quickened. My security system was down.

“You didn’t invite us to your campaign announcement.”

The familiar lilt of my Nana’s voice was enough to drain the tension from my shoulders—only to replace it with exasperation.

Us. That meant Grandmother was here, too.

I closed my eyes, counting to ten to ease some of the anxiety building in my chest. There weren’t many things in the world that scared me, but the “grannies,” as Audrey had so aptly nicknamed them, were a force of nature. And they were terrifying. I should have probably invited them today… But as I said, they were scary.

“I just upgraded my security,” I said through clenched teeth. “How did the two of you get into my house?”

Nana rose from the armchair in the corner, her sharp eyes gleaming with mischief. “You should know by now that Benson’s systems are no match for us.”

I pulled at the tie around my neck, feeling the noose tighten. “You could have been hurt,” I tried, hoping I sounded stern.

Grandmother, sitting primly on the couch, arched a brow. “Hurt by what? We know you don’t like guns, and you certainly don’t own one.”

I let out a sigh and sank into one of the new chairs in the living room, ready to face the music. Honestly, I was surprisedmy mother hadn’t joined them, or worse, Carina. I knew she was hurt, especially since Audrey had been there and she hadn’t. But I didn’t care.

I didn’t have time for inconveniences like the ones sitting across from me.

“What are the two of you doing here?”

Nana scrunched her button nose and leaned back in her chair. “Is that any way to greet your loving grandmothers?”

My lips twisted into a grimace. “Loving isn’t the term I’d use for the two of you.”

Grandmother’s cane twitched at her side before it flew out, smacking me in the shin. Pain shot through my leg, but I refused to react. She reveled in moments like this—I just knew it.

She raised her silver brows, daring me to complain. We all knew she didn’t actually need the cane. It was just another one of her tools, part of her well-crafted performance.

“You didn’t tell us about your campaign,” she said flatly.

“No,” I replied carefully. “Sometimes, it’s better to keep secrets in this family.”

Nana tucked a strand of silver hair behind her ear, her expression hardening. “There are no secrets in the Cristof family.”

“So you’re telling me you knew about my campaign before it went live?”