Page 28 of Lessons in Power

You know, I thought.About your son. About Daniela Nicolae.

There was no hint of it on her face. She looked so poised, elegant and warm and not the least bit like a queen whose kingdom was on the verge of crumbling around her. Her dress was white, knee-length. The matching blazer had beadwork more intricate than anything on my dress.

Not so much as one blond hair out of place, I thought. But Georgia Nolan knew. Iknewin my gut that the president had told her.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe the baby isn’t Walker’s. Maybe I’m making something out of nothing.

“Adam.” The president shook Adam’s hand, then looked just past his shoulder. “I wasn’t aware that Ivy was coming tonight.”

Ivy?

Adam, Keyes, and I turned to see her making her way through the crowd. She was wearing a black dress—fitted, with a high neck. Between elbow-length black gloves and the way her hair looked pinned up in an elaborate twist, she looked like the second coming of Audrey Hepburn.

Or, I thought, taking in the pace of her steps and the tension around her mouth,like hell’s own fury.

“Ivy.” Georgia greeted her just as she’d greeted me. “You look lovely.”

“Is everything all right?” the president asked her, the edges of his smile straining slightly against his face.

“Adam.” Ivy’s voice was perfectly pleasant. “Why don’t you show Tess the sculpture garden?”

In other words: she wanted me out of hearing range.Now.

Adam took my arm again. No sooner had we turned away from the group than I heard the president address Adam’s father.

“A pleasure as always, William.” That was a dismissal. William Keyes was not a man who appreciated being dismissed.

I glanced back over my shoulder. Beside me, Adam spoke. “There’s no love lost between my father and President Nolan.”

I knew Adam was attempting to divert my attention from Ivy and the Nolans, but there was a chance he’d tell me something that was worth a diversion, so I reluctantly turned back around.

“My father and the First Lady knew each other when they were young,” Adam continued. “They grew up in the same town. Georgia left for college and came back engaged.” My uncle had my full attention now. “My father is not, nor has he ever been, a graceful loser.”

My brain whirred, going back over every interaction I’d seen between the president and William Keyes, between Keyes and the First Lady.

Funny, isn’t it, that sometimes the loser matters more than the person who wins?

“Captain Keyes.” A voice jostled me from my thoughts. Its owner stepped in front of us and shook Adam’s hand. “Thank you for your service.”

My gaze went from the man shaking Adam’s hand to the teenage boy standing beside him.

John Thomas Wilcox.

Congressman Wilcox bore little resemblance to his son. He was shorter than John Thomas and broader through the shoulders, a side part covering thinning hair.

“Congressman,” Adam acknowledged. “Thank you for your support.”

“The foundation’s work is a cause worth supporting.” Congressman Wilcox had the ultimate political smile. “One that resonates with both sides of the aisle.”

Those words reminded me that Congressman Wilcox—theminoritywhip—fell squarely on the other side of the political aisle from the president—and the kingmaker.

“And this must be your niece,” the congressman turned to me. “Theresa, is it?”

“Actually,” John Thomas said, offering me a slick, insidious smile of his own, “it’s Tess.”

“My son,” the congressman told Adam. Then he turned his attention back to me. “I believe you two are in the same grade at Hardwicke.”

“Small world,” I said, the muscles in my jaw tensing.