“I was a cool art nerd.”
Zander’s chest shakes with laughter. “I’m sure you were, baby.” He leans in and kisses me on the lips without regard for the eyes that are most certainly watching. I can feel them—who knows how many—but I don’t care and neither does Zander, by the looks of it. He kisses me deeply for everyone to see, including Allison Forsythe.
“Hate to interrupt you, lover boy, but your dad wants to see you again. Just you,” Travis the errand boy says to Zander, pointing to where Governor McBride is across the room. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait right here with her.”
Zander looks at me warily.
“Go ahead,” I encourage him. “I’ll be right here. Say goodbye while you’re at it, huh?”
Zander nods, seeing my point, and kisses me on the cheek before he heads in the direction of his dad.
I watch as Zander disappears into the crowd then look to Travis. “I have to pee. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll come with you.”
“I’m a big girl, Travis.”
“Okay then,” he says, raising a brow.
I squeeze the clutch in my hand, remembering my emergency cigarettes. “I’ll be right back,” I say again, walking off, unsure of where I can sneak away to smoke. The combination of alcohol, nerves, and stress has won out in my battle against smoking. I’ll sneak away to take a drag or two then sneak back just in time for Zander to load us into the Lincoln and take us back to the hotel. I don’t think either one of us can suffer through dinner here.
My heels click against the marble floor in the wide corridor just outside the ballroom. I look from left to right, then follow the corridor a little further down until I spot a door with a small plaque attached to it that reads, “Service Exit. Staff Only.” I push the arm of the door and exit into the Atlanta night air. I take a deep breath, allowing my shoulders to sag forward unattractively. I have no time to waste, so I flick open the small clutch and fish out my occasional nasty habit.
The first two drags are always the best. My eyes roll back and I sigh, relaxing a little more. I hide just around the corner from the service door and hurry to finish my cigarette.
Footsteps drawing nearer my hiding place pull me from my brief moment of respite. I drop the cigarette to the cement and step on it. I can hear the distinct baritone voice that I know belongs to none other than my black sheep, Zander.
I hold my breath and press my back flush against the cool brick wall, praying that I don’t make my presence known. What sounds like two sets of feet click against the cement walkway by the service door.
“And why exactly is she any of your business?” Zander probes without an ounce of patience in his voice.
“I’m your father and I’m simply protecting your interests, son,” Governor McBride explains, sounding flustered.
“You mean your interests!” Zander growls.
“Shush! Keep your voice down,” Governor McBride chastises.
“Don’t stand here and pretend to give a shit about anything more than your campaigns, and fundraising, and social standing and your constituents’ views on how well you keep control over your personal life!” Zander bites out in a menacingly low voice through what I can tell are gritted teeth.
“Now you just stop right there, boy!”
“No, you stop. What you did was your choice and had I known then what was going on, I would’ve put a stop to it. You find your own fucking way to live with what you did just like I am.” The venom in his words makes it clear that he aims to offend the man he calls his father. I think this is the first time I’ve heard Zander so angry and bitter.
“You think I don’t just want what’s best for my son?”
“No. I don’t believe that.” I can hear feet shuffling against the cement. “Just—just tell me if you had anything to do with Jacob Parker’s death,” Zander whispers, barely loud enough for me to hear.
I clasp my hand over my mouth to stifle the gasp that tried to escape. My knees weaken and I lean harder against the brick, relying on it to hold me up against the weight of what I’m hearing.
“I may have done what I had to do and paid who I had to pay to get you that heart, but I did not do anything beyond that. What you’re implying sickens me, Alexander,” Governor McBride hisses in a shaky voice.
“Swear it,” Zander demands. “Swear it right now, right here on my life, that you didn’t arrange what happened to him or have any sort of preexisting knowledge of how he was killed.”
“I. Swear. It,” Governor McBride bites out, spewing copious amounts of his own venom.
I wipe a tear from my cheek and step out from my hiding spot to face them. Their eyes snap to me and I stare back at them, trying hard to find the right words.
“What did you do?” I whisper.
“Ah, fuck,” Zander groans, taking a step towards me. “Sadie, baby, come on. Let’s go, okay?” Zander tries coaxing me to him, but my eyes are locked with Governor Daniel McBride’s.