Page 25 of Rapunzel Is Losing It

“Because they were being abused!”

“Yeah, I know that. It’s politics, not common sense.”

Amani’s words threatened to trigger a spiral in the wrong direction, so I dug my fingernails into my cheeks and forced my eyes to stay on the graphs. The number of people accessing theservices we offered at our Florida center had dropped steeply. Mostly thanks to a bunch of protesters gathering in the parking lot every day. Hiring security guards had plateaued the drop-off, but people were still too scared to walk past an angry mob.

These women were supposed to feel safe with us.

It took many of them all their strength to even get in touch with us, especially those who had to do so secretly. Some of them never went back home once they walked through our doors.

I couldn’t let a handful of assholes threaten the safety we were meant to offer.

“What can I do?” I asked because there was a reason it was Amani, not Monica, on this call. Monica would ask for assets like more security, or safety fences.

“Where do you see yourself in ten years?”

“What?”

“If you wanted to launch a political career, drive change on a much larger scale, this would be your opportunity to build a platform.”

“That’s-”Absurddidn’t even begin to cover it. How on earth was I supposed to go into politics? Even city officials were required to attend public events. I was driving change on my own terms. The Theresa Montgomery foundation was already so much bigger than I’d allowed myself to imagine just a few years ago. I wanted to have at least one facility in every state by the end of next year.

“I say this with all the respect you deserve,” Amani continued when I struggled to find the words, “you’re a rich white woman with name recognition, pretty privilege, and - to put it bluntly - a tragic origin story. If you wanted to go into politics, you could. I’d whip you up a campaign in 48 hours.”

“That’s-” This time, I swallowed theabsurd. Maybe it wasn’t. I couldn’t think ten years ahead though. Not when, at this very moment, a survivor of human trafficking might not feel safeenough in our parking lot to access the help she needed. “What are my options?”

We spent the rest of the day going over different strategies to deal with the situation. There was no use in fighting this kind of crowd, which meant we had to make ourselves as visible and as accessible and as welcoming as possible. The visibility part was mostly going to be on me. I wasn’t about to campaign for senate, but my quick photograph for the website had just turned into a video campaign. Which meant more than one stranger in my house for more than thirty minutes.

As soon as the littleswoopsound indicated that Amani had ended the call, Victor stepped into the doorway. My eyes trailed on their own accord. He’d swapped his usual button-down shirts and suit pants for more casual clothes the last few days as he spent more time downstairs in the gym, or outside. The black henley shirt was rolled up to his elbows, exposing all the deep black ink of his toned forearms. My tongue turned to stone as my brain reminded me how it felt to have that arm wrapped around my waist. I’d liked his hands on my waist when he’d kissed me, but when he’d carried me into the kitchen, those arm muscles had pressed so deep into my flesh, my inner organs still sported that imprint.

Victor cleared his throat. He leaned there, brows raised, waiting.

He treated me no differently than before the kiss. I was struggling to do the same.

How could I go from admitting to Tabitha that I wanted a whole life with Victor to just… cohabitating?

“You know, eavesdropping is very impolite,” I said and offered him a sweet smile.

“You can’t invite random people in when I’m not here.”

“I can’t?” I raised my brows at his gruff tone.

“Cordelia,” he warned, a hint of exasperation in those four syllables.

“You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

“I’m trying to keep you safe.”

“You can run all the background checks you want on them. You can install security cameras all over the house. You can keep me safe without making decisions for me.”

He worked his jaw, shook his head, and stalked off down the hallway. The basement door banged shut just a moment later.

That was definitely not the way to his heart.

Cordelia • 03:53pm

Follow-up question.

Tabitha • 03:58pm