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She turns back to me, tears glistening in her eyes, but they never fall.
“Of course.”
And with that, she’s gone.
I suck in a deep breath, willing my hands to stop shaking and wash them in the sink before heading back toward the door.
It’s time to face the music. My mother will undoubtedly be pissed I didn’t manage to coerce Missy into coming, but there’s nothing I can do about that now.
I suck up my pride, force the fake smile to my face, and head toward the door, stopping dead in my tracks when I open it to the dark, heavy gaze of my mother.
Well, shit.
“Come.”
“Mom—”
In a flash, she reaches for me, her hand gripping the crook of my neck so hard her fingernails dig into the exposed flesh there.
“Make a scene.”
Fuck.
I swallow my fear and let her lead me like I’m marching from the Tower of London to meet the executioner.
I didn’t do as she told me.
Now I have to face the consequences.
Mom leads me to a room off the back hallway. A theatre of sorts. The only light illuminates from the dim sconces on the wall, casting everything in shadows.
“Make sure no one comes in here,” she murmurs to one of her guards, her face expressionless as she shuts the door behind her with a final click.
Now all the sound that’s left is the faint whir of the air conditioner and the dull, muffled sound of the party beyond this room.
We’re completely alone. Nothing good ever comes from being completely alone with my mother.
“Hannah,” she says, lighting up a cigarette, even though we all know she can’t smoke inside. “When I give you instructions, what are you to do?”
I swallow over the lump in my throat, my hands knitting together in front of me.
“Follow them.” I’m ashamed of how small my voice sounds.
“Correct.” She nods, taking a long drag until the end of her cigarette glows cherry red. “So why didn’t you bring your sister, like I told you?”
“Sh—she didn’t want to come,” I stammer, anxiety bubbling inside me. “I—I tried.”
In an instant, she snatches my jaw in her hand almost as forcefully as Missy had.
You know, for as much as they fight, they sure are a lot alike. Both fucking psychotic.
“You know damn good and well when I say bring her, I meanforceher if that’s what it fucking takes. It wasn’t a suggestion.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, my voice clouded with the tears brimming in my eyes. “She threw me on the ground. S—scratched me. She wouldn’t come.”
“I don’t give a shit what she did. You are to be presentable. Wherever I want. Whenever I want. That’s what comes with this job, Hannah. Or do you not understand?”
I’m the governor of California,my brain mocks.
