42

His hands dropped in his lap. "What do you mean by that?"

"I still have the video I stole from the Mayor. At least, I did until yesterday."

Alistair blinked rapidly. "I'm confused. Where is it?"

"I don't know," I threw up my hands. "I had it at the Penthouse, and now it's gone. So there's a chance that someone knows I stole it. And I have this press conference this afternoon, and I just..." My voice faded, and Alistair's body stiffened.

"Why don't I like the sound of where this is going?"

I crossed over to the couch and kneeled before my brother, grabbing his hands. "I'm sure everything is going to be fine...I just want you to know…." My heart became choked in my chest, and I cleared my throat.

"I think I just need to take Cecilia and go off the grid for a little."

"Go where?" Alistair snapped.

I couldn't tell him that. "I just wanted to tell you that I love you, Alistair. And when everything settles down, hopefully, this won't be an issue."

Alistair stared at me unblinking. Then he swatted my hand off his lap and jumped to his feet. "Are you fucking kidding me, Ophelia?"

Behind me, Mickey cleared his throat. "Everything okay?"

"Fucking peachy!" Alistair screamed, storming past his husband into the kitchen.

"Uhm, Ophelia," Mickey said. "There's a driver outside. Said he was here to take you to a press conference?"

I smiled. "That would be Hennrey." And with that, I gave Mickey a tight hug. "Thanks for being you, Mickey."

"Huh?"

"Tell my brother I love him."Then I spun on my heel and left the house.

LORENZO

As my limo pulled up to the press conference late that afternoon, I peered out of the tinted windows and shook my head.

Jonathan had switched tactics with this event. He'd forgone the massive convention center in exchange for something more personal, choosing instead to rent out the second floor of one of Boston's most prolific museums. Instead of potential voters, he'd created an open door policy for the press.

Jonathan didn't know it yet, but this was something he was going to regret.

What he'd given up in venue size, he'd made up for in extravagance. He'd converted the press conference into a black tie event, similar to the kind of party one would hold after they'd won the election, not the kind they held before.

But if that wasn't the definition of Jonathan's narcissism, I'm not sure what else would define it.

There were many things I was dreading about tonight, but kicking Jonathan down a peg was not one of them. I wasn't sure why it'd taken me this long to recognize his true nature, but just like pulling back the velvet curtain, now I couldn't unsee it.

My phone buzzed, and I glanced at a text from Ophelia.

See you soon.

I clenched my jaw, unsure how to respond to that. Would she really show up? I highly doubted it, but either way, it wouldn't make any difference. As the culmination of my plan unrolled tonight, it would ultimately be my full responsibility, and that was independent of whether or not Ophelia and Cecilia showed up.

I exited the limo, cameras flashing, blinding me as I walked up the steps.

"Mr. Kensington! Lorenzo!"

Reporters shoved microphones in my face, but I ignored them. There would be a time and place to explain things later. Except I wouldn't be the one having to come up with something to say.

Jonathan, on the other hand, was stopping to greet every person, shaking hands and spilling answers to questions that weren't even asked. The entire thing was a show that made no sense, especially since every single reporter and photographer would be invited inside once this outdoor charade finished.

"Lorenzo!" Jonathan grinned, twisting around to shake my hand. "You ready for tonight?"

I shook his hand and slapped his shoulder. "Oh, Jonathan, I think it's you whose not ready for tonight."

Jonathan's hesitation at my answer was subtle, and he quickly covered it with laughter before anyone could notice.

Of course, Jonathan was talking to the paparazzi, Jaxon Hall. "Yeah, Mr. Kensington," Jaxon asked. "Ready for tonight?"

I gave Jaxon a firm smile. "Fuck off, Jaxon."

With that, I climbed the rest of the steps and entered the museum. Passing the exhibits, I made my way to the second floor, where Jonathan had set up a podium in front of a blank projector screen.

The few guests that he had invited and weren't part of the press swarmed like mosquitos, eager for a bite. As expected, they were all wealthy donors, awaiting the arrival of who they suspected would be Jonathan's VP candidate. I watched the relief wash over their faces as they registered my arrival.

It was an expression I'd become accustomed to after all this time. Since I had money—more than most of them—it meant they wouldn't have to donate as much to gain a positive standing with the future White House.

"Lorenzo, there you are!" One of Jonathan's aides pulled me aside. "So good to see you. Isn't this great. Are you ready?"

"Beyond ready," I smiled.

The people in the room started to clap, and I turned just as Jonathan and his wife appeared at the top of the stairs, reporters and paparazzi trailing him like a shadow. Behind them were Senator Marco and his wife, Raquel Camille. Perfect. My plan couldn't have been set up better.

"Thank you all so much for coming," he said. "Let's all get a drink and get comfortable, shall we?"

By comfortable, he meant that the press should get their cameras ready.

Jonathan pulled me aside, his smile twitching. "Lorenzo, where are Ophelia and Cecilia?"

I tried to keep my face even. "She said they'd be here soon."

He blinked, his lips pressing together. "Listen, I went above and beyond for you last time. And I've made multiple exceptions for this woman of yours."

"That woman is the mother of my child," I snapped.

Jonathan blinked at the harshness of my tone. "Of course, I didn't mean it like that. I just meant…."

"What did you mean, then?" I retorted, cutting him short.

The directness of my question seemed to take him aback. Before he could respond, his gaze slipped past me to the stairs. "Well, never mind. Ophelia's here. Crisis averted."

The mention of her name made my heart leap. Had she actually arrived? For a brief second, I feared I was wrong. I'd assumed the worst. Projected my past relationships onto her. Assumed that what we'd experienced wasn't mutual. But then I twisted around and saw her.

Ophelia was making her way up the stairs, holding Cecilia's hand. She normally stood out, her beauty a separate thing on its own. But today, this was different. Ophelia wasn't dressed up. At first, I thought maybe I had forgotten to give her the memo that Jonathan had upgraded this to a black tie event.

Except she wasn't wearing any of the new clothes she'd gotten. She was dressed in a pair of jean shorts, sandals, and a loose button-up, and Cecilia was still in her school uniform.

Jonathan noticed this as well. "I guess we can make do with this. Let me see if my stylist brought an extra gown."

As he wandered off, Cecilia spotted me and darted toward me. "Dad!"

It was the first time she'd ever called me this in public, and my new nickname—one I was still getting used to—turned more than one head in the gallery. The cameras moved to follow Cecilia as she ran to me, and I scooped her off the ground, spinning her around.

How was it possible that one hug from her made everything in the world feel better?

"Hey, baby. Did you have a good day?"

She nodded, and then scratched her cheek. "But mom says we can't stay."