Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Rona
The phone trembles in my hands like a dying bird.
I can't stop staring at the screen, watching the numbers climb.
Views, shares, and comments are multiplying faster than I can process.
Some of them are scathing enough to make my eyes bleed.
Not a single one is questioning whether the video is real and I kind of understand why.
The girl in the video looks exactly like me.
Same strawberry-blond hair, same pale-blue eyes, same face. Same everything.
But it's not me.
I've never been to whatever party this is. Never worn that barely there outfit. Never danced on a table while drunk college boys cheered me on. And I've definitely never stripped and exposed myself to a room full of strangers.
But watching it happen on my phone screen over and over again, it feels like looking into an alternate universe. Seeing my face attached to this nightmare makes my stomach churn with a mixture of violation and terror.
No one will ever believe me.
The thought circles around in my brain as I sit in one of the upholstered chairs in the side suite adjacent to the main ballroom.
I don’t give a fuck anymore about my carefully constructed campaign appearance.
My hair is coming loose from Caroline's perfect styling.
My makeup is smudged and running under my eyes. I look like a sad, angry clown.
Which is exactly how I feel. Like a clown who became the butt of a cruel joke.
I’m trying not to cry. It’s becoming harder and harder. The elegant but functional furniture of the room with its small conference table and neutral-toned chairs feels cramped with the crisis energy filling the room.
Mom stands rigid at the tall windows overlooking the hotel's exterior, phone pressed to her ear, speaking in sharp, controlled tones to someone who's likely wishing they could melt into the floor right now. My mother isn’t the most agreeable person when she feels threatened.
"I don't care what it takes," she says to her unknown interlocutor. "That video is already trending, and if it’s not taken down right now, there’s no way to stop it from becoming viral. Get this contained right now."
Viral. The thought makes me want to crawl under my bed and hide there until I’m no more than a speck of dust. Instead, I go back to staring at my phone.
I refresh the Asterion post obsessively, watching the shares and comments multiply. My hands shake. Nausea rolls through my stomach, making my eyes water. Everything feels unreal, like I'm watching someone else's life implode.
The shame burns deeper than the fear. Not just at seeing myself displayed this way but knowing that everyone seeing this video will assume it's real.
They'll think this is who I really am and nothing I can say will convince them otherwise.
Everyone believes what they see with their own eyes, after all.
My chest tightens with panic. How will this affect Mom's career? She built her career based on the strong, independent woman image who can also be the head of her family. I’ve been the crown jewel of her achievement for so long, it’s hard to even fathom what this will do to her.
What her enemies will turn this into. No matter how hard she works, all everyone will see when they look at her is the woman whose daughter went wild.
A disgrace that will surely climb the ladder from me to her.
"Promise whatever it takes, I don’t care." Mom’s tone is as sharp as a shard of glass. "Handle it."
She ends the call with a groan that sounds suspiciously like a growl but doesn't turn around to look at me. Doesn't acknowledge that I'm sitting here falling apart, just inches from her.
The silence stretches between us like a chasm until I can’t take it anymore.
"Mom," I start, my voice barely audible over the sound of my heart pounding. "You know this isn't me, right? You know I would never—"
"Not now, Rona."
Her tone hits me like a slap across the face.
She still won’t look at me, even as she returns her attention to her phone.
Soon, her fingers move on the screen as she mutters under her breath and then she’s on another call.
She didn’t even ask me if it's real or offer any sign that she believes me when I tell her the woman in the video is not me. She just went straight into damage control mode, like the truth doesn’t really matter.
Maybe I’m naive to think that it does.
The door opens quietly, and I look up to see Caroline enter, her wings still fluttering nervously, but drooping just a little, her usually perfect hair disheveled from its perfect bob.
Behind her, filling the doorway with his imposing presence, is Mom’s head of security, Darhg Rooke.
The ogre appears almost surreal next to Caroline’s four-foot pixie stature.
My stomach bottoms out.
Of all the people in the world I don't want thinking I could strip and get drunk in public, he's at the top of the list. Seven feet of bulging muscular power, black hair cropped military short, sharp angular features and white tusks protruding from his bottom jaw make for an intimidating and efficient bodyguard.
His deep-amber eyes seem to notice everything all at once as he casts a circular glance around the room.
He's so handsome, with his dark mustard-yellow skin and perfectly square jaw, that I feel like a bug on the wall next to him.
A bug on the wall with a target on her back. Yay me.
I've had a stupid crush on him for months, watching him from across rooms, never gathering the courage to go up and talk to him.
I just kept glancing his way, wondering what it would be like if he ever noticed me.
If he ever really saw me. Well, he's seeing me now.
Right after watching a video of someone who looks exactly like me stripping naked for a crowd of drunk college students. Like a fucking idiot.
I want to die.
Our eyes meet for just a moment, and I search his face for any hint of emotion.
Judgment, disgust, disappointment. Anything.
But his expression remains completely neutral, professional.
He turns his attention to Mom without so much as a flicker of acknowledgment, and somehow that feels worse than outright condemnation. Like I don't even exist.
I feel like a naughty little girl in a time-out, not a twenty-three-year-old woman about to graduate college.
“I’ll call you in five minutes and you better have an answer by then.” Mom ends her call and turns to Darhg.
"Senator," Darhg says, his voice that low rumble that always makes my pulse quicken for all the wrong reasons.
"Darhg." Mom's relief at his presence is obvious. "Thank you for coming."
All he does is nod and for some reason, my stomach does this ridiculous little flip like every time I look at him too long.
Caroline steps forward, her features set in determined lines.
"Senator, I have a solution," Caroline says, bringing her hands up as she speaks.
"Rona needs to issue a public apology for the video.
Right here, right now, at the fundraiser.
A quick press conference to take responsibility for her actions and move past this.
It's the best way to quickly bury that scandal and protect your family's reputation. "
All blood drains from my face in a split second.
"What?" I shoot up from my chair, outraged. “Caroline, no. Absolutely not.”
"Rona—" she starts.
"No," I cut her off more firmly, trying without succeeding to control the tremors in my voice. "I'm not apologizing for something I didn't do."
Mom watches me as I speak. She’s not saying anything, but I can see in her face that she doesn't believe me. She doesn't believe the video is fake. It’s so unfair I could scream.
“Rona, honey, I know you're embarrassed, but denial isn't going to help here. The video came from your own Asterion account, for goodness’ sake!” Caroline's expression shifts to something that looks almost pitying.
“You're a college student. College students do wild things sometimes.
No one's going to judge you for being young and making a mistake.”
The condescension in her voice makes my blood boil. No way I’m going to let her do this to me.
"I'm not in denial, and I'm not embarrassed about something I didn't do. That video is fake, and if I apologize for it, I'm basically confirming that it's real. Which it's not."
I glance at my mother, who still stares at me with the kind of poker face that could have won her a fortune. Not that she needs it. She’s loaded.
"All that matters right now is protecting your mother's reputation," Caroline continues, her voice taking on that bright, determined tone that means she's convinced she's right. "The best way to do that is to take responsibility, show maturity, and move on. People will respect the honesty."
"I'm not taking responsibility for something I didn't do!
" My voice is louder now, and I can hear the edge of hysteria creeping in.
"This video needs to be taken down, and there needs to be an investigation to prove it's a fake.
I'm not going to destroy my own reputation just to make your job easier. "
"You can’t be serious." Caroline starts to argue, but Mom cuts her off.
“Enough.”
The single word, coming from Senator Quinn, silences the room. Mom looks between Caroline and me, her expression unreadable.
“I will personally contact Cassius Roarke about taking down the video, and I'll hire a specialist to determine if it’s a fake or not.” She turns to me with all the warmth of a December Arctic blizzard. “But in the meantime, Rona, you need to stay out of sight.”
Caroline opens her mouth like she wants to object, but Mom's look stops her cold.
"I will not damage my daughter's reputation without proof," Mom continues, her voice carrying the kind of authority that's made her one of the most powerful senators in the country. "Is that clear?"
Caroline nods reluctantly, but I can see the disagreement written all over her face.
"Thank you," I breathe, feeling some of the tension leave my shoulders.
But Mom's not done. "I'm also making arrangements for you to finish your semester remotely. You won't be returning to campus."
"What?" The relief I felt a moment ago evaporates. "Mom, no. I only have a few months left. I can handle this."
"This isn't negotiable, Rona."
"But I can't just hide—"
"You can, and you will." Her tone brooks no argument, and her beautiful face is getting flustered with anger. "Until this matter is resolved, you’re not going to take any unnecessary risks."
And just like that, my life changes completely. Again.
I'm not going back to school. I'm not going back to my normal life. Instead, I'm going into hiding with a man who haunted my dreams for months. A man who now sees me as nothing but a harebrained, spoiled girl, desperate for attention.
Perfect.
She turns to Darhg, who's remained silent throughout the entire exchange, standing like a statue by the door.
"Darhg, take Rona home. Avoid the press and keep her out of sight."
He nods once, still silent.
"I don't need a babysitter," I protest, even though the idea of spending time with Darhg sends an inappropriate flutter through my stomach that I immediately hate myself for.
I look at Darhg, searching his face for any reaction to this dramatic change in his assignment.
Going from head of security for a senator to babysitting her disaster of a daughter can't be what he signed up for.
But his expression remains perfectly stony.
The only indication that he has actual feelings about this is the way his eyes glance my way as he swallows.
I follow the movement of his throat with something akin to dread.
There’s no way he’s happy to be stuck with me.
"You need protection." She delivers her last directive with the kind of finality that's shaped my entire life. “And that's exactly what you're going to get.”
She straightens and squares her shoulder, then looks at me for a long moment before returning her attention to Darhg. I feel my guts melting like the world is going to end, and I’m not disappointed by what comes next.
“Darhg, I'm reassigning you exclusively to Rona's protection until further notice. Caroline will coordinate the details, but from this moment forward, she's your only priority.”
The words hang in the air like a guilty verdict, and I feel like crawling under the conference table and staying there until the whole world forgets I exist.
Mom's phone buzzes, and she glances at it with the kind of expression that means the outside world is demanding her focus again.
"I need to get back out there," she says, smoothing her hair and checking her reflection in the window. "Caroline, damage control. Darhg, get her out of here quietly."
"Understood," he says with all the emotional awareness of a slab of marble. A handsome slab of marble.
Mom pauses at the door, looking back at me with something that might be sympathy but could also be pity.
"We'll figure this out, Rona. But right now, the best thing you can do is stay out of view."
And then she's heads back to the fundraiser. Back to the donors and her carefully managed world of politics, where everything has a solution if she just finds the right angle. And she always finds the right angle, even if it means sacrificing someone in the process.
Even if that someone is me.
Caroline follows her out, but not before shooting me a look that clearly says she thinks I'm making a huge mistake. Or that I’m a huge mistake. Both can be true where she’s concerned.
Which leaves me alone with Darhg.
His only priority? Me.