Chapter 49
Forty-Nine
Daphne
My heart broke when Adelina pulled away from me, dropping her arms to her sides, as if my touch burned her.
Her sudden distance felt worse than anything President Byron would do to me.
She could barely meet my eyes. “Is it true?” she whispered, her voice trembling.
I covered my mouth as a whimper escaped. I wanted to lie, to deny everything, but I couldn’t keep doing that to her. Or to Brooks.
I looked at President Byron. He kept glancing between Adelina and the exit, as if calculating his next move.
Cory stood beside his father, staring him down, his mouth pulled tight with unease.
Then I looked at Bellamonte. My stomach roiled.
He looked damn near satisfied as he watched me fall apart. If the asshole couldn’t force me to marry his son, destroying me was the next best thing for him.
Secret Service agents had spread out around the Red Room, several stationed between me and the doors with their hands resting near their holsters.
I’m not just the daughter of the enemy now.
I am the enemy.
And Brooks? He stood dead still, not hurling a single word of accusation. Not asking one question.
“Get her out of my sight,” the president ordered. “You can thank the fact that my daughter loves you for why I’m not throwing you in a cell for treason right now.”
“I’ll take her,” Brooks said quietly.
He crossed the room toward me. Through my tears, I made out the two flag pins on his lapel. They were crooked now.
The quietness of his voice was more terrifying than if he’d screamed.
He closed his hand around my elbow, not painful enough to make me flinch but firm enough that I couldn’t mistake it for a choice.
“Act fucking normal,” he said on our way to the door.
His grip loosened just enough to lace our fingers together before we stepped into the hallway.
Staffers, guests, and Secret Service agents lined the hall, clearly waiting for someone to leave the room. They quickly pretended not to stare as we passed.
The second we were out of sight, he dropped my hand and grabbed my elbow again, harder this time.
I gathered the skirt of my gown in one hand and hurried to match his pace. My heels clicked through the halls until he steered me outside toward a waiting black sedan.
The driver hurried out to open the door.
“I’ve got it,” Brooks told him.
He slid behind the wheel without so much as glancing at my door, expecting me to get in on my own.
There was no chivalry for me anymore. No warmth.
I climbed into the passenger seat beside a man who suddenly felt like my enemy again.
Am I going to die?
Brooks pulled away from the White House, and I waited until it disappeared from my view.
“Where are you taking me?” I finally asked.
The dashboard cast enough light across his profile for me to see the muscle jumping in his temple every time he ground his teeth together.
He didn’t answer me.
Every minute felt like an hour as he drove and ignored my questions.
“Where are we going?”
No reply.
“Will you talk to me?”
Silence.
“Please, just let me out.”
We just kept driving northeast toward New York. I stared out the passenger window, watching semis pass us.
My reflection stared back at me in the window—pink sequins, ruined makeup, a princess tiara that suddenly felt ridiculous.
Nearly an hour into Maryland, he finally put on his turn signal and pulled off the highway. A few minutes later, he turned into the parking lot of a run-down motel that looked untouched since the ’80s.
A neon vacancy sign buzzed overhead. The blue paint on the doors was faded and peeling.
Oh, I’ll definitely need a tetanus shot after leaving this place.
If I make it out of here alive.
There wasn’t a soul in sight. If he planned to kill me, this was the perfect place.
Brooks parked in the darkest corner of the lot and killed the engine.
“Come on.” He climbed out and pulled a key from his pocket.
Knowing I had no choice and that this could be the end of me, I got out and followed him.
He unlocked the room at the far end of the building.
Stale air smelling of cigarettes and mildew hit me when he opened the door.
Brooks flicked on the light and shut the door behind us.
A yellow lamp flickered on, exposing a floral bedspread, scratched nightstand, and carpet I wouldn’t have walked barefoot across for a million dollars.
He stopped beside the foot of the bed and ripped the loosened tie from his collar before turning to me. “Why’d you do it, Daphne?”