Chapter Twenty-Four
Caius
G ood girl.
She’s quite the actress.
My gut tightens. We both know she’s not acting. Romy is falling far too quickly, which is only going to further complicate things. Right now, though, it doesn’t matter. I need her and everyone around us to believe this extraordinary proposal between two elite families.
It’s the perfect distraction.
People start chattering excitedly around us. I’ve made enough of a commotion that the spell is breaking. When I lock eyes with Theo, I’m grateful to see he’s alert. There’s a flash of worry in his eyes.
We’ve been duped.
We’re bombarded by people congratulating us left and right. Her brother isn’t one of them. He watches us with an expression of pure disgust. Fuck him.
Romy graciously thanks people and gushes about how excited she is to be my wife. I won’t lie and say that doesn’t make my chest fill with pride. She’s not the only one getting caught up in this ruse of ours.
Her arm is around me as she speaks to people who’ve crowded around us. If I were an outsider, I’d think she might be royalty with how the people are so drawn to her. This makes me want to protect her all the more.
“You still good?” I ask, lips near her ear.
She turns to look up at me with hooded eyes. “I am now.”
I get lost momentarily in her glittery blue eyes but force myself to look away. I need to stay focused and aware that someone is trying to send everyone here a blanket message. I’m not about to be a hapless victim.
Romy tucks a stray blond hair behind her ear and the light catches the obscenely large diamond, making it sparkle beautifully. Knowing she has something on her that ties her to me is comforting. It means that twats like the dimwit doctors and that douchebag actor will keep their distance.
I feel someone’s gaze on me and I turn to meet the dark stare of Doc Junior. Ahh, mission accomplished. I’ve pissed off the president’s son.
Did he really think he had a chance with a woman like Romy?
She’s an eleven and he’s a seven on a good day.
Frankly, he’s not good enough for her. I don’t care who his damn father is.
I flash him a smug grin that says, “She’s mine, bitch. Run along with your tail tucked between your legs.”
Fury transforms his face, making him even uglier than before. His idiot doctor friend shows up next to him, concern in his eyes.
You’re not getting that dance, asshole.
I twist Romy to face me again, eager to kiss her in front of them. The kiss I give her isn’t innocent at all. I plunge my tongue deep into her mouth, eliciting a moan of pleasure from her that wakes my cock up.
When I finally pull away, reveling in plump, still parted lips, and how fucking hot she is right now, I’m pleased to see the dimwit doctors have disappeared.
Good riddance.
Theo watches me too, but his expression is forlorn. I don’t like making him feel bad, flaunting my relationship in front of him, but it’s all necessary for this to work. He’ll get over it. The kid could get any woman he wants. He just can’t have mine.
“Excuse us,” I say to the people around us. “Thank you.”
I take hold of Romy’s hand, dragging her away from the onlookers, on a mission to speak to Theo. He stiffens when we approach.
“Congratulations,” he says, voice dejected. “You two must be so happy.”
Enough with the theatrics.
“Focus,” I growl in a low tone. “Call an Uber and get Kaitlyn out of here. They’re playing us.”
He nods, features turning serious. “Yeah, I see that now. Good call. I, uh, suppose this was all a distraction, huh?”
I don’t confirm or deny.
“Go back to the hotel, Theo.”
Romy hugs Theo and says, “Keep her safe.”
“I will.”
He lingers with his arms around her, hugging her for a little longer than my liking. Finally, he lets go before disappearing into the crowd. I grab Romy’s hand again and guide her away from the people to a hallway that leads to the restrooms.
I pull her phone out of my pocket and then turn on some Beethoven. “Put in an earbud and give me one.”
She fishes them out of her small wristlet. I can’t help but stare at the ring again on her finger. It looks good on her. I guessed her size perfectly.
Once we have Beethoven blasting and earbuds in place, I feel as though I can breathe. It tunes out whatever messaging they’ve been forcing on us the entire time.
“You’re wound up tight,” Romy says, frowning. “What aren’t you telling me?”
There’s a lot I’m not telling her. It should stay that way.
And yet, my stupid mouth blurts out shit anyway.
“I’ve been getting texts from someone,” I say, hating how the truth sounds on my lips.
“Calista again?”
“No. Some guy. Well, I assume it’s a guy, who calls themself S.”
“What does S want?”
“To fuck with me. Hell, I don’t know. He knows about Calista. No one but me, you, and Dad knows about her.”
She frowns in confusion. “Is it Orion sending you the texts?”
I’m not sure why I’m confiding in her, but to be honest, it’s nice to be able to discuss things with someone.
“I considered it,” I admit. “But S has texted me before while I was talking to Dad. Theo was there too. He couldn’t have pulled that off.”
“A scheduled message?”
“We went back and forth. Even my AI programs aren’t that sophisticated. It was a real person.”
“Could S be pretending to be Calista?”
I pace the area in front of her, spearing my fingers through my styled hair, likely messing it up. “I don’t know. It’s possible.”
She stops me with a hand on my arm. “Caius. Look at me. I can help you figure this out if you will let me.”
I stare into her truthful eyes, believing every word she says. For a second, I get lost in this moment. The girl I’ve been sleeping with is smart, loyal, and brave. She’s mine. After this, I can take her to bed and forget the whole world while inside her. This is probably why people fall in love and get married. They gain a partner—someone to conquer their demons alongside with.
Pulling her to me, I kiss her deeply and speak with my tongue swiping along hers words I wish I could say. She means something to me. That’s real. Can she feel it?
When I break the kiss off, she remains still, waiting.
“I want your help,” I say, unsure if I truly mean it.
The determined glint in her eyes does wonders to confirm I do. “We’ll figure this out together.”
I take her hand and bring the diamond up close for me to inspect, stalling for time. She’s patient and waits until I’m ready.
“I think our dads are in on whatever music shit they’re doing out there,” I admit, voice tight with tension. “Call it intuition or a hunch. Whatever.”
“I believe you,” she says, nodding. “They’ve proven to be manipulative.”
“And Huxley is…” I trail off, unable to pinpoint how I feel.
“Creepy as hell. I agree.”
I smirk at her. She’s cute when she’s in detective mode.
“Subliminal messaging through music is something that’s been going on for a long time,” I reveal. “It’s nothing new. But it’s usually done in a niched way. As therapy for a patient or an experiment on a small group of people.”
“I saw a chapter on it in one of your books,” she confirms. “I skimmed it, but I am familiar with it.”
“Do you remember which book?”
“Propaganda and Psychological Warfare: The Past, Present, and Future. Page one-fourteen, to be exact.”
It’s a shame her father spent so many years muddying this brilliant brain of hers. I’ve taken it for granted how clever she is time and time again. Her memory is impeccable when not clouded with drugs. She puts puzzles together at a dizzying speed.
“You have a photographic memory?” I ask, arching a brow.
She shrugs. “I remember things and store them to use later. It’s more of an internal cataloguing system. You never know when you’ll need to access those files.”
It makes me wonder if this system was born from years of being forced to repress memories—a survival tactic to hold onto every clue about the truth she was being denied.
“I think they’re using subliminal messaging as a type of propaganda,” I explain. “Before I realized what was happening, I kept thinking what a stand-up guy Huxley was.”
She nods emphatically. “Me too. And how wonderful this event is.”
At least I’m not going crazy.
“It was benign messaging on a group already primed to believe it since these are friends and colleagues of the president, but it was a test.” I dart my gaze down the hallway to see people still milling about without a care in the world. “It could be something they’re gearing up to try on the masses.”
And here’s where our families collide.
“So, essentially, influential people like your father and the CUP organization could get these messages out to their followers,” Romy says, eyebrows scrunching. “Like a trickle-down effect. A pyramid of ideas to be introduced in a non-intrusive way.”
“Exactly,” I say with a nod. “If the president wants a bill to pass, instead of blabbing on camera about why it’s needed, he could just plant the desire for the need to have such bill with Congress at an event like this.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “That’s…that’s just plain evil. Smart, but really, really evil.”
“Huxley wrote that particular book with—”
“Major Nicolas Cameron.”
“You remember. Of course you do.”
She beams at me, proud to add her own piece to the puzzle.
“So,” she says, tapping a finger to her chin. “We know how your father ties in, but how does mine enter the equation?”
This one, I know the answer to. I wait for her to piece it together.
“The news.” She gasps, placing a palm on her chest above her breasts that look enticing in her dress. “Oh no.”
She gets it.
Her family is just as flawed as mine.
“But why?” she asks, her nose scrunching. “Why would Dad want to do that?”
“Power.” I shrug. “That’s what most old men want after they’ve had everything else in life. Power is like the ultimate thing to have. I’m guessing it’s the prized hard-on they’ve been unable to get in their old age.”
I don’t crave power. I crave knowledge.
I want to find Calista and that’s it.
Well, that’s not only it. Not now. Not that you’ve royally complicated everything.
“It would be subtle,” Romy says, eyes darting all over me. “It would suck you right in.”
She staggers back, shaking her head. Her face sours like she’s eaten something horrible.
She gets it.
Unfortunately, she understands.
“Those videos. From earlier…” She widens her eyes. “You knew or had some sort of intuition. It’s why you took my phone.”
I’d seen how quickly obsessed she’d become over the videos.
“But Bastian sent me those. He wouldn’t…”
Oh, love, he certainly would.
“I wanted to blow something up,” she chokes out. “It made me so angry.”
“Worked like a charm,” I say softly. “You were primed because you were already someone who cared about the person delivering the news to you.”
Her eyes water, betrayal shining bright in them. “I trusted him.”
I take her hands and kiss the tops of each one. Sharing this knowledge with her feels right. It’s nice not to be alone with all this madness.
“You should probably stop doing that, love,” I say to her with a grim smile. “I’m the only one you can trust now.”