33

"Really?" Raquel gasped.

"Oh, that's great!" Helen grinned.

"Uhmm, Ms. Wellington?"

I turned at the sound of the driver's voice. His brow furrowed, wrinkles pressed in his forehead.

Fuck. The press conference was in an hour, and Cecilia and I were supposed to be there. As Cecilia darted over to the twins—who were apparently now her best friends—I lifted a finger to Raquel and Helen. "One second."

Pulling Lorenzo's driver to the side, I pressed my hands together, my jaw clenching.

Helen was one thousand percent connected to the video I'd stolen from Jonathan. And this has been my plan all along; have a playdate so I could...what? Get closer to Helen, share some champagne, loosen her up, find out what she knew? Yes. But wine and words could only go so far.

I had expected this to happen at Raquel's, and now this? An invitation to Helen's house. Which meant guaranteed access to her computer—the one thing I was confident in my ability to hack into. This was an opportunity I hadn't expected and one I needed to follow.

Pursuing this clue could mean finding Quinton, finally getting my money, and starting a future with Cecilia outside all of this. To leave Lorenzo.

"Ophelia?" his driver asked. "Mr. Kensington is expecting you and Cecilia at the press conference."

Except the opportunity to hack into Helen's computer was more important than Lorenzo's press conference. And it just so happened that I had the perfect out.

"Well, change of plans," I said to his driver. "I'm taking Cecilia on a playdate."

Helen grinned. "Great."

"I'll text you the address," Raquel said.

As I opened the back door for Cecilia, she hopped in. Lorenzo's driver hesitated. He chewed his lip and shifted from side to side. "Uhm, what should I tell Mr. Kensington?"

I did my best to sound as annoyed as I could with my next statement. The circumstance had just come about so perfectly. It gave me an excellent excuse to miss the conference and take Cecilia on a playdate. I just needed to feign anger, an anger Lorenzo would believe.

"You can tell Lorenzo that Alistair texted me a link to the article about his ex-girlfriend, and I'd rather not see him right now."

“Okay, Ms. Wellington.”

At least, he didn’t put up a fight.

Raquel immediately texted me the address to Helen’s, and I gave it to the driver.

“Can we watch a movie, mom?” Cecilia asked.

“Sure, baby.” I turned on the television that was built into the back of the front seats. But I hesitated before I could switch it to a cartoon channel. The news was on, and a name on the subtitle caught my attention.

Quinton Zinger.

“Not the news, mom,” Cecilia groaned.

“Hold on a sec, hon.”

I quickly turned up the volume. Had I imagined that? But then a photograph of Quinton appeared on the screen, and the headline changed.

Boston bank teller killed in shootout with police after an alleged robbery at mayor Jonathan Calamari’s house.

My heart dropped.

Holy fuck.

LORENZO

Ahalf hour before the press conference was set to begin, Ophelia still hadn't arrived. Cecilia's school was only fifteen minutes away, meaning that even if she'd puttered around at school, she should have been here by now. And Henn would have called me if there'd been traffic.

As I paced the backstage of the convention center, Cecilia's phone going to voicemail for the third time, Jonathan came striding out of his dressing room, pieces of makeup paper tucked into the collar of his shirt. He ripped them out, twisted on his smile, and threw up his hands.

Lowering my phone, I sighed.

"You ready, bud?" Rubbing his hands together, he grinned. "You fucking did it."

"What?"

"The hacker," Jonathan grinned. "The Quinton fucker. He's gone. I just saw the news."

"Jonathan...keep it the fuck down," I hissed.

"Hey, cool it, man," Jonathan grinned. "You kept up your end of the bargain, showing me how serious you are with your business, and it's now clear that this is how you'll be by my side in the White House." He slapped my shoulder. "This is good, buddy."

I'd never wanted to punch a grown man before as I did right now. But this was a huge opportunity, one I still wanted. Breathing through my annoyance, I forced a smile.

Jonathan grinned. "I'm thinking I'll go out first and announce you as my VP. I'll read the speech about Ophelia's arrest, mugshot, toxic relationship, and explain how I'm going to double down harsher penalties for abuse victims, yada, yada. Then you guys will come out."

Rubbing my chin, I lifted my hand. "There's just one problem."

Jonathan's face froze, his smile disappearing and he stared at me unblinking. "You know I don't like the word 'problem,' Lorenzo. Unless it's followed by the world 'solution.'"

"Right. So...the solution would be Ophelia and Cecilia arriving."

His expression fell. "They're not here yet."

I took a deep breath, and then spotted Henn slipping in through the backdoor. I was about to give Jonathan the good news when the door closed again. Ophelia and Cecilia weren't with him. My heart skipped. Henn's eyes were wide, his shoulders tense. He was carrying the weight of someone with bad news.

Oh, shit. Something bad had happened. I felt it in my bones.

Without saying anything to Jonathan, I curved around him, heading straight toward Henn.

Jonathan called after me. "Get it together, Lorenzo."

I ignored him, picking up my pace to reach Henn. He must have been able to read the expression on my face because he raised his hand. "Everything's fine. Well...I mean, they're okay."

Sighing, I gripped my heart. "Jesus, okay good. So what's going on? They're nervous? Sitting in the car?"

"No," Henn said. "They're not coming."

Jonathan had caught up to us. "Excuse me, did I hear that correctly?"

I lifted my hands to try and keep Jonathan from freaking out. "Where are they?"

Henn's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. You told me to always listen to her as long as she had security—and don't worry, they're with her."

"Hold on." I lifted my hands. "Where are they?"

Henn shrugged. "Ophelia wanted to take Cecilia to a playdate."

Jonathan threw back his head. "Oh, you got to be a fucking kidding me. So this isn't happening? Great, this isn't happening." He spun on his heel, throwing his makeup papers onto the ground as he yelled for his publicist.

This was the least of my concerns right now.

"Don't worry," Henn said. "Security is with her, so she's fine."