Page 12

A text is waiting for me when I wake up this morning. From someone I have no desire to see. But one I have no choice but to face. My dad.

It’s been a long time since I saw him—almost two years now. Even that visit wasn’t one from his own heart; it was a press tour for his most recent campaign. Back when he was just a mayor.

A political show is exactly what today will be, filled with smiles, handshakes, and waves as I’m paraded around like a doll—or worse, an accessory. My outfit was already personally picked out. Not by him, but by his team. It was dropped off to me at nine a.m., along with the itinerary.

His second assistant will be with me all today—in charge of keeping me in line, I’m sure. Not that I’ve ever given them a reason to doubt my performance. It’s flawless every time.

The weight on my chest feels heavier than ever as I zip up the back of the modest pink dress. It might not be formfitting, but it’s somehow still constricting, suffocating like hands around my throat.

Glancing in the mirror, I feel oddly proud of what I’ve pulled off in the last hour. Curled my hair, did my makeup, played piano for ten minutes, and even managed to have a cry session in there—before the makeup, of course.

I’d spent years perfecting the art of fighting back tears, especially the older I got. It seemed that as time went on and the memory of my mother faded from my dad’s mind, the further he strayed from the man I’d once known.

This tweed dress, fitting for any politician or royal, fits me perfectly. Which is rather shocking, given the fact that I’ve put on some weight since I last saw him.

“Sunny, baby, June will be here in about an hour.” I start filling her in on my plans for the day so she doesn’t feel left out. “So, you’ll only be alone until then.”

She looks up at me with happiness in her eyes. I know she likes June, and June does a good job with her. I have no worries, especially with the deal I made with her.

I’m paying for all of her tuition for four years with some of my trust fund; in return, she’s Sunny’s sitter whenever I need. I’m flexible, of course, when I can be.

Sunny’s a good girl and very independent, but I don’t like leaving her alone for too long when I’m gone. It makes my heart hurt. Especially when I can pay for someone to be here and take her on nice, long walks and stimulate her.

I don’t reach out to June every single time I leave my room, but if I’m going to be gone for more than a few hours, I like to have her there. If not just for Sunny, then for my peace of mind.

Sunny is my best friend and the most important part of my life right now. I would be so lost without her. No money will ever be too much to keep her happy and safe.

Grabbing my purse and the itinerary from my desk, I look it over once more before nicely folding it up and tucking it in my purse.

9:00 a.m.—Meet with Jess outside of Hans hall.

9:10 a.m.—Breakfast with the dean and the president of HEAU, and Congressman Briarwood.

10:00 a.m.—Photo shoot with the dean and the president of HEAU and Congressman Briarwood.

2-hour break—MUST REMAIN ON CAMPUS.

12:15 p.m.—Meeting with congressman.

That only sums up the start of my day in hell.

Unlocking my door, I catch one last look at myself in the small hanging mirror on the wall. Every hair is in perfect order. No smudged makeup.

Lifting my lips up into a smile that I don’t feel, I force the energy to flourish into my eyes, making it as believable as possible. After letting my mouth fall and lift back up into a grin, I’ve achieved my goal—a flawless fake smile.

“Bye, Sunny. Love you, baby.” I close the door behind me, and the automatic lock clicks into place.

It’s like all the energy in my body shifts to my chest, welling up and expanding with every step I take down the hall toward the elevator. Pressing the button on the wall, I wait, hearing the mechanisms grind behind the double doors. The display screen above it changes, the light shifting from left to right as it gets closer to this floor.

It chimes softly, signaling its arrival, and I step forward toward the doors, patiently waiting.

The doors begin to slide open, and my heart jumps into my throat. My eyes fall directly onto his chest, the T-shirt drawn taut against his firm muscles.

Looking up, I lock eyes with Malik, sucking in a sharp breath.

I haven’t seen him since that night, and I was not mentally prepared to see him this morning.

I’m such a different version of myself right now. So prim and proper. So controlled. A puppet of my father’s.

His face is unreadable, his jaw tight. He looks at me with a blank stare.

Dean clears his throat, and I realize it’s not just Malik getting off on the floor. The Kensington brothers are here, too, staring at us like we have a secret and they are desperate to hear it.

“Oh. Hey, Alora,” Asher greets me with a smile.

Do they know that Malik came into my room that night? Did he tell them anything?

I don’t know what I expect Malik to do. He’s unpredictable on a good day. But after he came into my room and almost kissed me? I have no idea what he’s going to do next. Or what I want him to do …

“Hi,” I answer, glancing over at him as I step back and give the small group space to exit. But no one moves, aside from Dean blocking the doors from closing with his arm.

Awkward silence consumes all of us.

I want to move and get on the elevator, but I can’t. Malik’s stare pins me in place.

It hasn’t left me. I can feel it caressing my face. Hot and heavy, as if his fingers were right there on my skin.

Dean looks at Malik, clearly noticing something is off about this interaction, more so than usual.

Malik’s lips part as if he’s going to say something. I wait, eagerly anticipating what’s to come.

At the very least, I wish he’d address that I’m even here and acknowledge me. Or give me some clarity on what the hell happened that night. Like why, one second, he wanted to kiss me, and the next, he tells me he hates me. Then spends days avoiding me.

What is his deal? It was easier when he just despised me. It would be less confusing.

His mouth closes, and for a split second, it’s almost like a veil dropped in front of his eyes and revealed a glimpse of vulnerability But I blink, and it’s gone.

“Where are you headed, looking like a pretty, preppy princess?” Malik’s lips tip up into a smirk, and I know he’s teasing me.

But it feels more flirty than harmful.

“I’m heading to meet up with my dad.” I glance away from them, my voice slightly shaky.

Dean nods. “Oh, that sounds?—”

Malik cuts him off, striding forward and plowing through me, knocking my shoulder as he passes.

I stumble back a step but catch myself.

Asher’s jaw is unhinged as he watches in awe as Malik storms down the hallway.

Malik’s voice travels back to us as he calls out for the brothers, “Are you two going to hurry the fuck up or what?”

He doesn’t look at me or acknowledge me at all before he disappears around the corner.

“We’ll catch you later,” Dean chimes in as they both politely brush past me and walk down the hallway toward their room.

I don’t say anything, too dumbstruck to form a word as I step forward and press the level-one button, watching the doors close in front of me.

My phone vibrates repeatedly, and I pull it out of my purse, finding my dad calling me. Shit .

I glance at the time in the top corner as I answer the call. I’m late.

My father’s voice is even harsher than I remember as he angrily whispers at me, the quietest of his words echoing in my ears, “Where the hell are you? Are you trying to make us look bad?”

“I-I’m in the elevator. I’m sorry. It took a while for it to get up to my floor.” The apology rushes past my lips.

“Don’t make excuses. Hurry up.”

He forces a laugh at someone, his voice shifting to that fake tone he uses as he addresses them. “Hi, Kenneth. No, she’ll be here in just a minute. Don’t worry.”

A moment of silence passes before he snaps into the phone, “You have three minutes to be at my assistant, Jess’ side.”

The call ends at the same time I reach the first floor. The doors open, thankfully without someone I know on the other side.

I can only go so fast. My heart rate needs to stay manageable, and I need to stay cooled off enough that I don’t overheat. Maybe he should have thought of that before shoving me in this damn thick dress.

As quickly as I can, I head outside and begin the short trek to Hans Hall. Whether he likes it or not, it’s going to take me longer than three minutes.

Which, of course, it does because it’s a half a mile from my dorm. Which might take other people three minutes to complete, but not me.

Crossing the smooth cobblestone walkway, I stop at the bottom of the stairs of Hans Hall to catch my breath.

My heart rate’s a bit higher than I’d like.

Giving myself a moment of peace, I take some deep breaths, even though right now, it barely feels like I’m getting anything in my lungs.

The door swings open, and a woman in a black pencil skirt and white blouse steps outside, her eyes dropping directly to me with recognition in them. “Alora, there you are. Come on. We gotta go.”

Oh, I know . Everything’s a rush—always. God forbid I take a second to gather myself.

But I don’t say any of that.

Instead, I smile up at her and stride up the stairs, using the railing to help. Before I even reach the top one, her hand is hooked beneath my arm and pulling me inside of the door.

The dean, president, and the provost of HEAU, as well as my dad, are all waiting inside. All of their stares find me as we rush down the hall toward them.

The persona that exists inside of me for the times I’m the congressman’s daughter more than myself surfaces, taking over. “I am so sorry that I am late! Please forgive me. I was feeling a bit under the weather when I woke up this morning.”

They all brush it off, the president speaking for the group. “It is no concern at all. We’re just glad you made it safely.”

My dad is smiling at me, seemingly as happy as the rest of the men. But there’s a sign—a tiny, almost-indiscernible darkness in his gaze—that tells me otherwise. He’s fuming; he just won’t show it in front of them.

“Shall we?” Jess asks, gesturing toward the door that’s propped open.

The men nod and smile before allowing Jess and me to enter the room first.

“Thank you,” I praise them, stroking their egos.

We file inside the Lockhart Room and make our way to the round table in the center of the circle rug beneath the tall crystal chandelier. Small name cards assign our seats, which we quietly take. I’m to the left of my father, then the dean, the president, the provost, and then Jess.

A server comes around the moment we’re settled and removes the name cards before disappearing from the room.

A different server approaches us with an iced water pitcher in her hands. “Can I get anyone a glass of water?”

“Yes, please.” My voice is almost unrecognizable, quiet and soft.

She starts with me, working her way around the table until the glasses are all full.

The president takes a drink before directing his attention my way. “Alora, tell us, are you enjoying your time here so far?”

I nod as a grin lifts my lips. “Most definitely. HEAU has been a dream come true. It’s an honor to be here, sir.”

President Scott responds, “That’s great to hear. We want nothing but success for you here. We’re honored to be your school of choice.”

The first server saves me from another political answer, walking over with the first two plates, setting them down in front of my dad and me.

Bacon, two small pancakes, scrambled eggs, fruit and a small slice of wheat toast. I see my dad failed to mention in the planning of this breakfast that I have to be careful with how much sugar I consume. The rest of the plates are brought out, and everyone thankfully spends the next few minutes eating while I pick around my plate and eat a few bites of the scrambled eggs and fruit.

After everyone clears their plate, aside from me, the guys talk shop for a while, which basically translates to kissing each other’s ass for a half an hour. I’m here merely as a prop. I bet if I didn’t say a word the rest of the day, no one would notice.

Once the breakfast table is cleared, we pose in front of an HEAU step-and-repeat backdrop for a few photos, which seems to take ages to complete.

I just need to get through the rest of this day, and I can relax again, without the hawk watching over me.

When the two-hour break approaches, I know just where I’m going—to practice piano until I feel more like myself again.

It goes by in a blur, and by the time the two-hour break comes to a close, I contemplate calling my dad and telling him that I’m too sick to come to our meeting.

But I know he would just come here instead, and neither of us wants that.

I’m meeting him in the dean’s office, who turned it over to him for anything he needs for the day. Generous, as always when it comes to my family. I know I should be grateful, right? But all I feel is disgust.

“Come in,” my father calls out after I knock on the hardwood door, his tone stern.

Twisting the doorknob, I push it open, finding him comfortably sitting in the dean’s chair with his hands crossed on top of the oak desk. I shut the door behind me, knowing he’ll want privacy.

“Have a seat,” he orders, his gaze dropping to the two black leather chairs positioned across from him.

I do as told, quietly walking around the armchair and sitting on the edge of the seat. “Hi.”

He clears his throat and lifts a piece of paper from the desk, handing it to me. I lean forward and take it.

Physically resisting my eyes from rolling, I read the headline. Areas of Improvement .

It’s been a few years since I got one of these from him, although I was a teenager then, still in his care. Now I’m an adult, teetering on the edge of ending our relationship.

“As you can see, there is a lot to work on.” He studies his own copy. “But for starters, let’s discuss today. First off, you were late. Unacceptable . You know how important appearances are in this world, and you failed to uphold them.” His face reddens the longer he talks. “You barely spoke all afternoon, and I had to remind you to smile more than once. If you still lived under my roof, I would have taken everything from you as punishment. It’s disgraceful, Alora. For both of us.”

His face may be red with frustration, but my blood is boiling with rage.

Maybe it’s from the small stint of being on my own that I’ve found this new sense of separation from my dad, more so than I did when I went to live with just my aunts. But I know that if he wanted to, he could have me revoked from this school with one phone call and upheave my entire life.

I don’t care about the money. I know how to be happy without it. My aunts taught me that. But I won’t say that I hate having the money I was born into. It’s a blessing, one that I don’t take for granted. But I don’t need him to hold on to a majority of my money, thanks to my mom and the trust fund she had set up for me. The hundreds of millions set aside in the trust is the safety net allowing me to distance myself from my dad.

There’s a tightrope between standing up for myself and pissing him off. I have to pick my battles, and I’m just not sure this is the one I want to choose.

“I apologize,” I say as genuinely as I can muster.

He nods, dismissing it immediately. “Now, let’s talk about your time here on campus. You haven’t been managing it wisely.”

He checks the sheet again, and I follow, looking down at my own paper. I notice the second section, and my body goes cold.

“H-have you been having me followed?” My words are a ghost of a whisper.

He looks at me like I’m stupid. “Of course I have. You’re an extension of my agency. What you do affects me.”

My lungs empty, and a shiver skates across my shoulders. I know he values image above everything else and he has plans to run for senator and then president one day, but I never once questioned that he would completely invade my privacy.

Reaching into his bag, he pulls out a small picture. “I received word that you’d been spotted interacting with this individual.”

He slides the photo across the desk, and my heart sinks.

It’s a photo of Malik and me at the party, visibly angry with one another. Apparently, there’s nowhere my father can’t reach, including a college party with an invite-only attendance.

Did one of the brothers take a check from him to get whoever his spy is put on the list?

My mind starts racing as I try to remember if anyone stands out who I’ve maybe seen more than once that isn’t a coincidence.

Then my eyes focus on Malik in the photo, and I recall the discussion at hand. “What about him?”

He shakes his head, disappointed I don’t already know the answer. “You cannot be friends with this boy. Do you understand me? He doesn’t have a great reputation. And certainly doesn’t fit in the line of what we represent.”

“It’s a good thing we aren’t friends. Merely old high-school acquaintances.” My words are short and sharp.

I don’t know why I feel so defensive of Malik. He’s made my life hell. I know part of it is the daddy issues I have, wanting to defend anyone he dislikes. But I also understand the difference between the heat of anger I feel wanting to defy my dad, and the bubbling heat I feel beneath the surface when Malik’s near me.

He remains quiet, and after I briefly scan the paper, I rise from my seat.

“If that’s all …”

“That’s all,” he dismisses me.

Shit, I got up too fast.

When I lower myself to my seat, he watches me for a moment, and I swear I catch a glimpse of concern in his gaze. But it must be the black spots flashing in my eyes like glitter.

“It was good seeing you,” he mutters softly.

The backs of my eyes burn, but I push it away, forcing the sensation back until it disappears. I won’t cry for his love.

“Yeah,” I whisper, pursing my lips and twisting them to the side.

“Have the room as long as you need.” He gathers his belongings and walks to the door. “I love you.”

I hesitate for just a second, wondering if I want to repeat the words to him. But at the end of the day, as crazy as he might have become, he’s still my dad, and parts of me will always love him.

“I love you too,” I murmur.

I hear the knob twist and then a brief hesitation. But a second later, he’s gone, and I’m shut inside as my mind starts to race.

What just happened?

A few minutes pass by, and after drinking nearly half of my water bottle, I slowly stand up and walk to the door, feeling much better.

At least today is over, and I can just relax and hang out with Sunny for the rest of the day and maybe play some piano. Which is all I ever really want.

Strolling outside of the Administration building, I walk down the stairs and take a left to head back to my dorm. As I round the corner, I see my father and Malik face-to-face in what looks like a heated conversation. I freeze, stopping dead in my tracks as my veins run cold.

Tucking myself behind some overgrown vines that cascade down the building, I sink into the shadows. A perfect hideaway. They’re too far away for me to hear anything, but I can tell from here that they’re both fuming mad. Malik’s fists are clenched at his sides, his face beet red.

What the actual hell is going on?

An entire minute passes, and they’re still talking.

What could they possibly be discussing?

Malik steps forward, inching closer to my father’s face. He says one more thing to him and then storms off in the opposite direction, his pace fast and aggressive.

My dad scans his surroundings out of habit, looking to see if anyone’s watching with a smile on his face. His gaze passes right over me, but he doesn’t seem to see me—thankfully.

He strolls away slowly and effortlessly, with his hands in his pockets, as if whatever just happened didn’t .

Once he’s out of sight, I untangle myself from the vines and continue walking home, the light breeze brushing my hair back and off my shoulders, the aroma of flowers floating in the wind.

My mind drifts away. I somehow feel even more confused than before, and I’m left with far more questions than answers.

It was odd enough to see the two of them talking in general. But that’s not the part that leaves me unsettled. It’s how they talked. There was a familiarity to it, like it wasn’t the first time.