A Harmless Little Game (Harmless #1)

 

“She wasn’t drunk or high, sir. I’ve told you that a thousand times. I was there for most of the night.”

 

Most? I almost scream the word aloud. I clap my palm over my mouth to stop myself. It’s like kissing a wall of ice. Drew was there for every second. I watched the video. I have ways of getting information online, even on the restricted venue of the island. Part of my misery—part of my healing—has come from watching the footage over and over, deconstructing every frame, understanding who did what.

 

And who didn’t do anything.

 

“You weren’t there long enough,” Daddy spits out. Drew goes silent. I can’t see them, but I can imagine them. Daddy’s voice lacks conviction, though. It’s clear this is an old argument. They’ve said these words to each other before. How many times? How well worn are the arguments between them, the discussions and analyses about me?

 

And what does Daddy mean that my character was attacked?

 

“She’s stronger than you think. But don’t expect Lindsay to be anything close to the young woman you knew before the attack,” Drew says in a sharp voice.

 

“Of course not! She’s traumatized and—”

 

“That’s not what I mean.” A chill shoots up my spine. Has Drew caught on to me? Has he figured out I’m faking so much?

 

“Then what?”

 

“When she learns the truth about what happened after the attack, she’ll, well...”

 

Daddy just sighs.

 

“We have therapists for that. And, worst case, she can return to the island.”

 

No.

 

NO!

 

I press my palm against my mouth so hard I feel my lower teeth dig into the knuckle of my middle finger. My skin tastes like copper.

 

“That’s not what I mean, sir.”

 

From Harry to Senator to Sir? Drew’s contempt for my father shines through as this conversation continues. How long before he starts calling him asshole?

 

The thought makes a hysterical giggle rise up in my throat. I bite my finger on purpose to keep it down.

 

“Then say what you mean!” Daddy growls.

 

Drew clears his throat. His voice drops. I can barely hear him, but I can make out his words.

 

“When Lindsay learns that the attackers convinced a group of her friends to lie and say she was drunk and high, and that she encouraged the gang rape, she will be out for blood.”

 

My own blood freezes.

 

“And when she sees the news articles, and when you go on the campaign trail with her in tow, you’re going to have to deal with all of those lies being dredged up again.”

 

“I know that damn well, Drew. And your job is to protect her from—”

 

“And she won’t take it like a victim.”

 

“Excuse me?” Daddy chokes out, clearly shocked by Drew’s words.

 

My heart pumps ice through me. I can feel chunks of it rolling against my skin. Drew’s words are more frightening than anything anyone has said to or about me in four years.

 

Because he’s right.

 

Oh, dear sweet merciful deity, he’s figured me out.

 

For real.

 

“You think you’ve brought Lindsay home so you can prop her up on the campaign trail and make a picture of a perfect family. And with enough dodging and deferral, and public relations spin and volleying, you can.”

 

Daddy’s voice floods with relief. “That’s exactly why she’s home.”

 

“But do not underestimate Lindsay’s agenda.”

 

Oh, God.

 

Daddy makes a snorting sound. I can imagine his eye roll. “Lindsay? An agenda? What agenda does Lindsay have beyond shopping for a whole new wardrobe so she can keep up with the latest fashions?”

 

Ouch.

 

“Is that really how you see her?” Drew ends his sentence with a derisive huff.

 

Daddy’s silence says everything I need to hear.

 

“You think of her as a puppet, Harry.”

 

So now we’re back to first names.

 

“I think of her as my daughter.” A tone of anguish I’ve never heard comes out of my father. It warms me. A little.

 

“And I think of her as a human being who is independent and has her own feelings, thoughts, and reactions. You want her to fit into your plans for the campaign. And she might.”

 

“She will.”

 

“Don’t count on it. She’s sharper than you think. always has been. You’ve underestimated her for years. When I saw those medical records—” Drew’s voice breaks off, choked with emotion. “That mental institution just doped her up to shut her up.”

 

“Dammit, Drew!” Something bangs, hard, like Daddy’s slammed his fist on a table.

 

“And you can argue all you want, but the bottom line is this: she’s home. I’m glad she’s home. I’m glad she’s out of a place she probably only needed for the first few months, and mostly just to heal outside of the limelight. But you’ve done her no favors keeping her hidden for so long. Between what she’s about to learn about her reputation, and the juicy, vicious gossipmongers who are going to love to get their hands on any tidbit about her, you’ve set Lindsay up for a mess.”