He can play the game, but she’ll make the rules

Political science professor Kat Driscoll will not be “handled” by anyone. Certainly not by Alex Santiago, the suave, savvy and handsome campaign manager for Senator Roberts, the man recently revealed to be her father. Alex clearly sees the sudden revelation of his candidate’s long-lost daughter as an unfortunate glitch in their race for reelection. One that needs to be carefully spun and managed. But Kat isn’t about to play along, or comply with Alex’s ridiculous attempts to make her more media friendly. He’ll have to deal with the real Kat. And maybe, in the process, she can discover the real Alex...

Alex stopped mere inches from her, and she resisted the urge to back away.

She met his gaze evenly, waiting for him to reveal whatever it was that had him grinding his teeth.

“Did you talk to anyone on the way here this morning?” he thundered.

Kat straightened. “You know very well I wouldn’t. What’s this about?”

“The story about you writing a book on your father got leaked.”

Kat’s stomach bottomed out. He loomed over her and she sucked in a breath, immediately regretting it. His scent assaulted her senses, a spicy deodorant and the clean smell of soap. For some unfathomable reason, her body seemed to welcome his closeness. After Colin, she wanted nothing more than to lash out at every man who got within touching distance.

So why wasn’t she pushing Alex away?

Dear Reader,

As a resident of the Washington, DC, area, I am constantly fascinated by the family lives of elected officials and those around them. I see Capitol Hill staffers work themselves to the bone, sacrificing friendships and love because they believe in their leader. While TV shows sensationalize political deal-making, the staffers who advise our elected officials are no different from you and me. They make tough calls, and sometimes they make mistakes. For the most part, they’re trying to do the right thing.

The Senator’s Daughter is the story of Katerina Driscoll, who has lived her life in the shadow of her obligations until her father’s identity brings her into the political limelight. It’s also the story of Alex Santiago, a first-generation American for whom politics is about power; the power to change lives and to change how the world sees people like him and his mother. The book is about confronting the inner demons that keep us from being happy, set in the midst of Washington, DC, politics.

I am tickled to share my hometown with you. To get free book extras, including some Washington, DC, insider information, visit my website at sophiasasson.com. I love hearing from readers, so please find me on Twitter (@SophiaSasson) or Facebook (SophiaSassonAuthor), or email me at Readers@SophiaSasson.com.

Enjoy!

Sophia

The Senator’s Daughter

Sophia Sasson

www.millsandboon.co.uk

SOPHIA SASSON puts her childhood habit of daydreaming to good use by writing stories she hopes will give you hope and make you laugh, cry and possibly snort tea from your nose. She was born in Bombay, India, and has lived in the Canary Islands, Spain and Toronto, Canada. Currently she calls the madness of Washington, DC, home. She’s the author of the Welcome to Bellhaven and the State of the Union series. She loves to read, travel to exotic locations in the name of research, bake, explore water sports and watch foreign movies. Hearing from readers makes her day. Contact her through sophiasasson.com.

MILLS & BOON

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To all the men and women out there who are not afraid to pursue their goals; and to my friends and family who support my crazy dreams.

Acknowledgments

This book, and the entire State of the Union series, would not happen without my awesome editor Claire Caldwell, who really makes my manuscripts shine.

My talented critique partner, author Jayne Evans, is not afraid to tell me to hit the delete button and start all over. I love her for it.

Also, thanks to the wonderful Heartwarming authors who support each other and have created this wonderful community of sweet romance readers and authors.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Dedication

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

EPILOGUE

Sneak preview from book two of Sophia Sasson’s State of The Union Series

Extract

Copyright

CHAPTER ONE

“...SENATOR ROBERTS FACES some tough questions ahead.”

The TV announcer’s dramatic voice echoed as Kat opened the doors leading to the stairwell. She took the steps two at a time and burst into the hallway.

“Professor Driscoll!”

Kat turned to see her teaching assistant chasing after her. “Not now, Amanda. I’m late.” Kat hurried down the hallway.

She was due to administer a final exam to juniors at Hillsdale College and didn’t want to come up with an excuse for being late because of her mother. Again. She especially didn’t want to look bad in front of the dean.

Almost running through the door of the classroom, Kat stepped onto the stage and set her papers on the professor’s table. She opened her mouth to silence the room. Her voice stuck. Fifty students stared at her like she’d grown two heads.

“You guys are eager to start the exam,” she said nervously. Something was wrong. She glanced at the clock on the back wall. Only a minute late. Was she wearing her shirt backward? She looked down at her clothes, and then chaos broke loose.

“Is it true?”

“Why didn’t you tell us?”

“What does this mean for you?”

“Are we still taking the exam today?”

Kat blinked as the questions flew at her. What’s going on here?

“Professor Driscoll!” Her out-of-breath teaching assistant huffed up to the stage.

“The dean asked me to administer the exam so you can deal with the situation.”

“What situation?”

Amanda stared at her, openmouthed. “You haven’t seen the news?”

A pit formed deep in Kat’s stomach. She shook her head. “What’s going on?”

The cacophony of questions from the students intensified. Several were on their feet, holding out cell phones. Kat turned to see telltale flashes.

“Go to your office, don’t talk to anyone and turn on the news. Go!” Amanda said.

Kat pointed the TA to the sheaf of exam papers, then turned and fled. Two more faculty members tried to stop her, but she blew past them. It can’t be Mom. She’d just come from making sure her mother was medicated and tucked away in bed. Had she done something in the fifteen minutes it had taken Kat to make it to campus? She vividly remembered being pulled out of class and into the principal’s office in high school. The principal had the TV turned to the local news and asked Kat if the woman walking around in a bathrobe on Main Street was her mother. Indeed it was, and the media had filmed Emilia Driscoll in all her half-naked glory. Not one of the reporters had thought to call for help.

How had her mother pulled off a CNN-worthy stunt in the last few minutes?

Kat ran to her closet-sized office and shut the door. As an assistant professor, not tenure track—not yet, anyway—she got an office with barely enough room for a desk and two guest chairs. There was a TV, a necessity for any political-science professor, along with the musty smell of an office without a window.

Pressing the power button on the TV, she waited for CNN to come up. It was the default channel during election season. The image filled the screen. She dropped the remote.

Her own face stared back at her. It was her faculty picture. The unflattering one where her blond hair looked lifeless, her blue eyes tired and her cheeks paler than the white background. It was her post-breakup face, the face of a woman who’d been lied to by someone she loved, cheated out of her much-deserved faculty position and forced to start over at a new college. One bad media story had done that to her. Three years had passed, and Kat was not that woman anymore.

The volume was too low, so she searched the floor with trembling hands for the remote and turned it up, stabbing at the buttons until she could hear the announcer.

“...and we’ll come back to this developing story.” Her picture disappeared and they went to commercial.

She let out a scream of frustration.

“Are you okay?” the professor next door called through the thin walls. She forced a breath into her lungs.

“Yes, sorry,” she mustered. While her colleagues seemed nice enough, she wasn’t close with any of them. That was a mistake she wasn’t going to make again.

“It’s understandable.”

Kat went behind her desk and turned on the ancient computer. The boot-up screen was maddeningly slow. She didn’t have a smartphone—an expense forgone because of the cost of the data plan on top of the pricey device. Once she got a promotion, she would treat herself to a tablet computer.

She punched in her log-in and password, keeping an eye on CNN. They were still on a commercial break. As soon as she was logged in, she opened the internet browser, which went straight to CNN’s politics page. A yelp escaped her lips as she saw her picture, that same ugly faculty photo, load on the page.

Katerina Driscoll—Senator Roberts’s Secret Daughter the headline screamed. Her eyes widened. She read through the article as quickly as she could, needing to blink several times when the words blurred before her. She flipped open her dated phone and called home. It rang and rang, and she swore under her breath. The mood stabilizer she gave her mother sometimes knocked her out.

This can’t be true. Or could it? Her mother had mentioned that her father was a politician. Her mouth soured as she read the article. She knew Senator Roberts. Correction—she knew him the way a professor knows a subject, having lectured on the three-term US Congress senator from Virginia five times in the past month alone. He was in a tough reelection battle because he was proposing a bill to spend billions of dollars on Improvised Explosive Device, or IED, identification technology for overseas troops. The normally boring congressional election had taken the national stage since its outcome would determine the majority party in the closely held Senate. It had been an exciting few weeks for the tiny political-science department at her small-town Virginia college.

CNN came back and repeated the headline she’d just read online. It seemed the first story had appeared a little over an hour ago. Her heart pounded in her ears, muffling the words of the TV announcer. She fingered the pendant on her necklace and took short breaths to calm the sharp pain in her chest. This couldn’t be happening. Not on this day.

Why do they think I’m his daughter? She flipped open her phone and called the house again. Maybe the ringing would wake her mother.

None of the articles mentioned her mother’s name; all that came up was an obscure reference to a “short-lived previous marriage.”

This had to be some horrible case of mistaken identity. She picked up her purse and checked her watch. Two hours until the committee would meet about her promotion. The only way to set this straight was to go home and rouse her mother.

The TV screen caught her eye and she gasped. A new picture appeared, one from just moments ago in the lecture hall. A scrolling Twitter feed showed next to it.

VA professor said daddy isn’t the smartest. #SecretDaughter

Prof Driscoll thinks @SenatorRoberts blew it. #SecretDaughter

The scrolling text was too fast to read. She went back to the computer and brought up her Twitter account. The hashtag was new, obviously being used in all the Tweets related to the story. When she typed #SecretDaughter into the search box, it brought up over a thousand Tweets, including a bunch from her students who were supposed to be writing an exam. There were at least ten photos of her standing in front of the class looking like a deer caught in the headlights. If possible, those images were even uglier than the faculty photo. Every crease on her tailored shirt showed, and her pencil skirt appeared to be a size too small against her newly gained five pounds. Her sensible flat shoes, good for traversing the campus, made her look short.

She struggled to take a breath but all the oxygen in the room had been sucked out. This wasn’t just some small media story. It was big-time news, and she was right in the middle of it. She stood on shaky legs. The only way to put a stop to all this was to talk to her mother. She couldn’t even call the CNN desk and yell at them for spreading lies. Her birth certificate, and every form she’d ever completed, had a blank next to her father’s name. He was a figment of Kat’s imagination, a man she’d created to fill her mother’s silence.

Could the news story be true? She shook her head. Senator Roberts was a public figure, and if he was her real father, someone would have mentioned it. The only person who could refute this nightmare was her bipolar mother, who was sleeping off a manic episode. She closed her eyes, took a fortifying breath and stepped out of her office. And ran right into a solid mass. She stepped back.

“Dean... Gl-Gladstone,” she stammered. The dean was an imposing man in his sixties with gray hair and a broad chest. He was well over six feet and used every inch of his height to rule the faculty. She had interacted with him only in group settings, preferring to deal with the dean through the department chief, who didn’t have a notorious temper and didn’t fire staff for sneezing the wrong way.

Dean Gladstone took up nearly all the space in the tiny foyer-slash-anteroom-slash-coffee-station. They didn’t have a receptionist; they barely had working phones.

“Professor Driscoll, I need a word with you.”

“Of...of course.” She waved him into her tiny office, wishing she had tidied up. Stacks of papers littered her desk. He strode in and took a seat. His huge frame looked comical in the tiny, threadbare visitor’s chair. Kat put down her purse and sat, keeping her back as straight as she could.

“There are reporters and news vans outside this building, harassing students, asking if they know you,” he said without preamble.

“What?” No one had been there when she’d walked in just twenty minutes ago.

“I have guards escorting them to the campus gates, where our jurisdiction ends. I’ve had to request more security.”

Kat swallowed. How was she going to get out of here?

The dean continued in a dramatic, gravelly voice. “Now, I’ve come to tell you that this school does not welcome such publicity shenanigans. You should have disclosed you were the senator’s daughter when you applied for your position here.”

She put her hands on her lap so he wouldn’t see them tremble. “Dean, I have no idea why they published that story. I don’t know my father—he left before I was born.” Her voice was tinnier than she wanted, but at least she’d managed to keep it steady.

“Surely your mother must have said something about him.”

You’d think so, wouldn’t you?

She shook her head. “My mother was quite traumatized by my father’s desertion. It made her so sad to talk about it that I stopped asking. I really have no idea where this story came from. Believe me, I wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize this college.”

“Regardless, until it dies down, for the safety of the students, you need to go home and stay there.”

Kat’s heart sank to her toes. She couldn’t keep the tremble out of her voice as she asked, “Are you suspending me?”

“Not yet. But I’m not allowing you on campus. I’ll have your colleagues cover your exams and deliver them to your house for grading.”

Not again. Kat swallowed, trying to dislodge the big lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. It sounded like a reasonable course of action; they were a small school, and security consisted of old-man Pete and his sidekick. They couldn’t deal with the likes of CNN. But she knew this was the step before suspension. They’d let her grade the last papers and then fire her. If a big university took issue with a page-three newspaper article, a small-town college wouldn’t put up with national headline news.

And today of all days. “Dean, I hope this won’t affect the APT Committee’s discussion.” The Appointments, Promotions and Tenure Committee was scheduled to meet today to go over Kat’s record and determine whether she qualified to become a tenure-track professor.

“That remains to be seen.”

He stood, and Kat followed suit. “I recommend you not talk to the media unless you can conclusively refute what they’re saying and take the attention off yourself...and this school.”

She nodded dumbly. He left, and she collapsed in her chair. For two years, she’d been working toward the promotion by taking on classes that no other faculty member wanted, mentoring extra students on their dissertations and writing as many papers as she could. She had even learned how to blog, working herself to the bone to make tenure. Now this! Her luck couldn’t be this bad, could it? What if the story was true? Emilia had been moodier than usual for the past several months. Kat had chalked it up to a medication adjustment, but what if...

She stood and made her way to the back entrance of the building, the one the students used to cut through the large quad area between classes. Opening the door just a crack, she peeked out. There was a man in a business suit with his back turned to her and a phone pressed to his ear. He wasn’t dressed for a college campus, but he didn’t have a microphone or camera, so she stepped out and walked over the grass to the faculty parking lot.

As she hurried past, she sensed him move. “Miss Driscoll?”

Ignoring him, she kept walking as fast as her legs would go. His footsteps fell heavily on the concrete path behind her, so she broke into a flat-out run. The parking lot wasn’t that far; she could make it. Keys were clipped to the side of her purse, and there was a can of Mace attached to them. Always keep keys and pepper spray within easy reach. Her fingers closed on the metal and she automatically unlocked her car, comforted by the beep. Her pulse raced, and her finger was on the alarm button. Thankfully there was no one next to the car. So close, only a few more steps. The car was within touching distance when she felt someone grip her elbow. She froze for a millisecond, but then her self-defense training kicked in. She screamed and whirled, instinctively pushing out with her hand. Go for the nose, eyes or throat.

The man in the business suit deftly stepped back before she could connect with his Adam’s apple. He held out his hands. “Miss Driscoll, I’m Alex Santiago. I work for Senator Roberts.”

Her chest heaved, trying to squeeze air into her lungs. He wasn’t even out of breath.

Kat put a hand on the car and willed her heart to calm down. She studied him while she struggled to gain control of her breathing. Hair dark as night, styled and tamed. Taller than her five-foot-four frame. Lean, but he looked like he had muscle underneath his well-tailored suit. Big, dark eyes, skin the color of sand. A firm jaw, high cheekbones, the hint of a five o’clock shadow. He didn’t look like the typical congressional staffer, but he dressed like one. Dark gray pin-striped suit, light blue French-cuffed shirt, red tie, an American flag pinned to the lapel. He was senior staff. If he was legit.

“It’s Dr. Driscoll.” Kat crossed her arms. He stepped back, his lips twitching into something that looked suspiciously like the beginnings of a smirk.

“Dr. Driscoll, I’m sorry to scare you, but I need to talk to you. Urgently.”

He pronounced each word carefully, in the precise manner of someone who had had language training.

“And why should I talk to you?”

He put his hand in his breast pocket and removed a plastic-encased identification card. It was a federal ID that listed his name as Alejandro Santiago.

“We’re on the same side here.”

Really? I don’t even know what side I’m on. Definitely a Washingtonian. “How did you get here so fast from DC?” The capital was a three-hour drive away.

“CNN gave us a heads-up they were running the story.”

“Then why didn’t you give me a heads-up?”

“We didn’t know if you needed one. But we did try to reach you. No one answered your office phone, and we couldn’t find your cell number on such short notice. We even tried you at your home, but it just rang.”

Kat bit her lip. She vaguely remembered the phone ringing when she was trying to calm her mother. Usually only telemarketers called that number, so she’d ignored it.

“So what’s going on?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. The story caught us by surprise.” He raised his brows. “I’m hoping you can shed some light on what they’re saying.”

“Me? What does Senator Roberts have to say about it?” she countered.

“He’s in the air, on an overseas flight. He won’t be landing for another few hours.”

“You don’t have a way to reach him?”

“We have to wait until he lands.” His gaze shifted a bit and she narrowed her eyes at him. He seemed sincere enough, but no way was she trusting him.

“I’m on my way home to talk to my mother. Give me your card and I’ll call you when I have some information.”

“So you didn’t leak this story?”

“Excuse me?”

“Did you give this story to the media?”

She put her hands on her hips. “Do I look like some crazy woman, desperate for fifteen minutes of fame?” His eyes roamed her body and she reddened. “This story is ruining my life. I want it retracted, and as quickly as possible.”

“Then you and I have the same goal. I’ll come with you.”

“That’s not wise, Mr. Santiago.”

“Alex. And I don’t think you have a choice.”

He pointed behind her. She turned to see no fewer than ten people rushing toward her through the gates that separated faculty parking lot from the street. This time there was no doubt who they were. Cameras were already flashing and outstretched hands held ominous-looking microphones.

“Give me your keys.”

She stared at him. He snatched the keys from her hand. “Get in!”

“Katerina.”

“Professor Driscoll?”

“Kat!” The crowd of reporters was now close enough that she could hear them screaming her name. All doubt erased, she ran to the passenger side and slammed the door shut. Alex already had the car moving before she buckled in. She clicked the seat belt in place just as he floored the accelerator, backing out of the parking lot. Instinctively, she grabbed the handhold on the ceiling. He reversed all the way to the gate. He had a hat on his head now, its bill pulled low.

“What’re you doing? This is a campus—there are kids around!” If they ran over someone, her career was over. A vision of the dean physically throwing her off campus like a rag doll filled her mind.

Alex changed gears and pushed the car onto the grassy knoll to avoid a crowd of reporters.

“Dean Gladstone will—” Her head hit the side window as the car lurched. He had hopped onto the sidewalk to avoid more media immediately outside the gates. Several people slapped the car as he pressed the horn and squeezed past them.

Kat turned to make sure no one was lying on the ground bleeding to death. She let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.

“Are you crazy?”

“You’ve never had to avoid the bloodhounds before. Trust me, this is routine—for me and for them. Tell me how to get to your house.”

She wanted to tell him to get out of her car so she could drive home alone, but who knew what disaster awaited there. He seemed to have some know-how, so she gave him her address and he plugged it into his phone GPS while continuing to drive like a New York City cabbie. On second thought, maybe I’d better get rid of him now.

“I’m going to go a roundabout way to shake off anyone following us.”

She whipped around, but all she saw were regular cars in normal traffic on the small-town streets. Her head pounded. This had to be a dream. Like the one she’d had last night in which she’d shown up to class without her lecture notes and the students had laughed at her. It had to be. This was not real.

They arrived at her house to find it quiet. No media vans, no horde of reporters. Just the neighbor’s yippy dog barking behind the fence like he’d never seen her before.

“Shut up, Rex,” she muttered, stepping onto her front porch. She and her mother lived in a small, brick-front town house with three feet of shared front yard between them and the neighbors. She keyed into the house with Alex right behind her.

“Wait here.” She motioned to the small living room with the flowered couch her mother had owned since Kat was a little girl. The woman refused to give it up. It was perfectly preserved under a plastic cover, Kat’s daily reminder of what her life would be if she didn’t change something. Once she got the promotion, she could move into her own place again and get more medical assistance for her mother. She could have a life. One that consisted of more than just taking care of her mother and working to get her career back on track.

Right now, she could barely afford to pay the rent on this place, let alone get an apartment for her mother. Emilia Driscoll hadn’t been able to hold down a job for over a year now. The move to Hillsdale had been hard on her, and Kat didn’t understand why. Her mother was from Virginia; Kat’s aunt lived a short distance away. When Kat had accepted the position at Hillsdale College, she’d expected her mother to be thrilled. Instead, she had mumbled something about the past coming back. At the time, Kat had wondered if her father was still around. It was the only thing that explained her mother’s reaction.

She went to the bedroom to find her mother still fast asleep. Kat closed the door and sat on the bed. Wisps of blond hair stuck to her mother’s forehead, so she pushed them back. Emilia had been a beautiful woman once, with long, flowing hair, bright blue eyes, rosy cheeks and a full body. Now her hair was thin and falling out. Her slim body was all bones. Kat could never get enough calories into her. She couldn’t let the media anywhere near her; they would eat her alive.

“Mom, I need you to wake up.”

Her mother moaned and turned away from Kat, but she shook her until Emilia’s eyes fluttered. “Katerina, what time is it? How long have I been sleeping?” She rubbed her eyes and blinked at the sunshine streaming through the window.

“Mom, it hasn’t been long. I’m here because there’s a problem. I need an answer to a very important question, and I need you not to lie to me, okay?”

Her mother sat up in bed and frowned. She was lucid and calm. Good—the drugs had taken effect. “Katerina, what is it?”

Kat swallowed. There was no time to ease into this. “Remember how you told me my father was a politician?” Her mother shrank back, her lips pressed tightly together. It was her normal reaction, but Kat wasn’t going to let her shut down this time. For once, she had a different way of asking the rote question. “Mom, is Senator William Roberts my father?”

Her mother paled and she clutched the bedsheet to her chest.

“Oh, no. It’s happened, hasn’t it? He’s come to take you from me.”

CHAPTER TWO

“I’M WORKING ON IT.” Alex bit his tongue, literally, to keep his tone polite. The Republican National Committee had been riding him ever since they figured out Roberts was going to be the make-or-break candidate for control of the Senate. The rest of the races were a foregone conclusion. Only a third of the Senate was up for reelection every six years. Virginia had been a predictable race, as Senator Roberts was well liked, but a new challenger had changed all that. Now the race was close. Tight enough to be within the polling margins of error. If Roberts lost, the powerful Senate would go to the Democrats.

“The senator needs to focus on his trip. Convincing the Egyptians to give us the technology is critical for the bill,” he told the RNC chair as calmly as he could. The senator didn’t need to deal with a media crisis. The whole point of his trip to Cairo was to get a firm commitment from the Egyptian government, which was not currently a friend of the United States, to turn over the specifications for new robot detectors that could clear IEDs. As an active senator, Roberts was both campaigning and trying to get his bill passed before the election. It was Alex’s job to make sure he was successful in both endeavors. IEDs were the biggest killer of American soldiers, so for every minute that soldiers were using old equipment, someone was dying.

“I’ll handle it. This isn’t my first campaign.” He stabbed the end button on his BlackBerry without saying goodbye. He wouldn’t distract the senator. The Egyptians had initially agreed to sell the technology for an exorbitant amount of money but were now reconsidering the deal under significant pressure from other Middle Eastern countries not to sell to the US. The senator was fighting overseas, so it was Alex’s job to deal with the battleground that was Washington politics.

This was a big ticket, his first national effort, nothing like the small-time campaigns he had been running. He was almost a Washington insider, not just—pull yourself up by the bootstraps, young man—hanging around the elite. No longer the token senior staffer, the one people turned to when immigration was the issue du jour. He wasn’t even Mexican. His mother was from El Salvador, a woman who legally immigrated. Yet that fact was often overlooked. All his life, he’d been around men in power. They saw him as the stereotypical son of the cleaning lady, out to work hard and make a name for himself. Good for you, boy.

The party leaders were waiting for him to fail. Senator Roberts had hired him when it was going to be a simple race. Still, he’d kept him on even though the party leaders were putting pressure on him to replace Alex. Those smug men. Alex knew that if he didn’t control this media nightmare, and fast, the RNC leaders would slap him on the back and tell him he’d fought a good fight, then give him a fatherly smile and suggest he go back to the minor leagues. You’ve made your mother proud, son. They’d blame him for the bill not passing, a bill they supported only because the Democrats were against it. Men like that always won. But he wasn’t a helpless kid anymore; he was a grown man who was going to fight back and beat them at their own game.

He rubbed his temples. His first thought had been that this had to be a woman looking for her moment in the spotlight, so he’d brought the campaign checkbook and the standard nondisclosure agreement to get the situation resolved quickly. But this was clearly not the usual deal.

First of all, CNN normally gave the RNC more notice for a story like this, hoping to barter for an even bigger scoop. This time it was a call for comment as they were going to air. Second, they refused to even hint at their source. No “senior White House officials” type of disguise to indicate where the story had come from. Third, the woman hadn’t given an interview. If this were the familiar get-rich-quick scheme, she would’ve been in front of the cameras talking about emotional damage. Her photos would be picture-perfect. Instead, they were using a mug shot from the college website, and the Twitter photos were even worse. Could this be the real deal? She’d seemed genuinely distressed when he found her.

He clicked on the BlackBerry again and eagerly read the email he’d been waiting for. The plastic squeaked as he sank deeper into the couch. It can get worse.

The bedroom door opened and Kat emerged, closing it softly behind her. She was even paler than before, and far more beautiful in person than in the pictures on TV. Her blue eyes were clear and expressive, her long blond hair haloing her delicate face. A naturally beautiful woman who would be stunning if she was done up right. Yet he could tell she wasn’t the type to make sure her nails were polished, hair blown to perfection and clothes immaculately pressed. She wasn’t someone you put in front of the cameras.

“So?”

He already knew what she was going to say, but he needed to hear her version of it.

“Can I get you some coffee?”

He raised an eyebrow then stood.

“I’ll help you make it.”

“No, you sit here. I’ll be right back.”

He thumbed through the remaining messages on his phone. He’d made a rookie mistake. He should’ve sent an unknown staffer to deal with this. Yet something about her picture had gotten his spidey senses tingling and he’d decided to deal with it himself. In hindsight, he realized that if the media found him here, in her house, the story would gain even more steam. He’d already taken a chance driving her from the college. Even with his hat, he couldn’t be sure someone hadn’t recognized him. Kat needed to make a statement, and soon. He didn’t have time for coffee.

Thankfully, Kat returned quickly with two mismatched mugs. She handed one to him. “I have cream and sugar if you’d like.”

He shook his head. He’d learned to drink his coffee plain black. Hard to deal with creamers and sugar packets while on the go.

“So?”

She sighed and leaned back into the squeaky couch, wincing at the sound. He expected her to take her time, but she got to the point. “The senator and my mother were married thirty-six years ago. Briefly. She left him then discovered she was pregnant with me. By then the divorce was final.”

His deputy, Crista, had just unearthed all this. The senator was such a public figure, having always put his life and family in front of the media, that Alex hadn’t bothered to dig much deeper before Roberts entered the national stage. Like the media, he’d thought the man was already well vetted and that any skeletons would have been dug up a long time ago. Another mistake.

Her face was now ashen, her eyes large and luminous. She wrapped her hands around the coffee mug and he saw waves in the liquid.

His leg jerked. He wanted to tell her it would all be okay. Except it wouldn’t. Her eyes shone and she stared into her coffee. Then a sound outside caught his attention. Great!

He flew to the window and pulled the drapes across it. She looked up, splashing coffee on her hands.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re here. You need to close all the blinds.” He kicked himself for not asking her to do that first thing.

To her credit, she didn’t let the panic clearly visible in her eyes overwhelm her. The cup clattered as she set it down and ran to the bedrooms. He drew the venetian blinds on the skinny window next to the front door, then walked into the tiny kitchen and did the same.

“How did they find my house?” The accusation cut through the air as she emerged from her mother’s bedroom.

“Probably the same way my assistant just discovered that Senator Roberts and your mother were married for exactly eight months and it was the first marriage for both of them.”

Eyes widening, she stepped backward, pressing herself against the door frame. They were both standing in the kitchen and he suddenly realized how much of the small space he was taking up. Excusing himself, he walked past her and back to the living room couch. This wasn’t the standard situation, but there was an easy answer—one that would get him out of here and back to work on the things that mattered.

“Listen, obviously you don’t want the publicity any more than we do.”

“You’ve got that right,” she muttered, sitting across from him and crossing her arms.

He leaned forward and gave her the smile he usually reserved for female heavyweight donors. Using his classic move, he reached out to take her hand. As soon as their fingers touched, she pulled back like she’d been burned and gave him a look that implied he had cooties. A nerve in his left eye twitched. Okay, then. We aren’t going to be friends.

“Then it’s simple. Have your mother make a statement that you’re not Senator Roberts’s daughter and we’re done.”

Her head snapped up. “You want her to lie.”

“Versus...what?”

“Versus telling them it’s our private matter and they need to stop harassing us.”

He stared at her. Was she really that naive? Then again, she was a college professor. His deputy, Crista, had briefed him on the articles she’d written. Kat was an idealistic academic who had no idea how things worked in the real world.

“You say that, and the story continues. They start interviewing your neighbors, students, Facebook friends, Twitter followers...everyone you’ve ever spoken to.”

“Why would they—”

“People you hardly know will come out of the woodwork with a charming—or nasty—story about you and your mother. Think about how many people want to get on national TV. This is their chance. Have you ever cut someone off in line? Left a bad tip at a restaurant? True or not, people will have all kinds of stories about you. Just look at how many Tweets your students sent.”

If possible, her face went even whiter, the color completely draining out of it.

“I’m not worth that kind of attention, surely...”

He stood and lifted the edge of the curtain. She gasped. There were no less than ten trucks blocking the street and a bunch of reporters crowding onto her front lawn.

“Any second, they’re going to come banging on the door. The only reason they haven’t yet is they need to get their cameras ready and the uplinks to their networks established.”

This time he went and sat next to her on the love seat. She moved slightly but didn’t get up. “They’re not going away. You’re the story of the day, and the only way to get them off your back is to tell them there is no story. Discredit it, and they’ll slink away.”

“I don’t want to lie.”

“Your birth certificate doesn’t have a father listed. There is no record of when your mother separated from the senator. Our spin would be that they were separated when you were conceived, so he’s not your father. There’s no way, without a DNA test, for them to prove you’re his daughter.”

Her eyes were big and wet. He wanted to look away, but he couldn’t. Something pricked his heart. Risking another rebuke, he put his hand on hers, and this time she didn’t move.

“Listen, I know this is hard, and I don’t agree with the tactics, but they won’t stop harassing you. Your mother is sick...”

She snatched her hand away with such force that the coffee cup sitting on the table teetered, threatening to fall. “How do you know about my mother?” She inched away from him on the couch. He was handling this all wrong.

The job necessitated being able to put on a number of faces, so he furrowed his brows and leaned in, his eyes conveying sympathy and understanding. He couldn’t show his impatience with this woman now. Why is she being so stubborn? She obviously didn’t want the media attention, and he was giving her an easy way out.

He felt a familiar anger bubble deep inside, and he took a breath, modulating his voice, softening it, the way he’d been taught. “I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to intrude. Unfortunately, the internet has more information on all of us than we’d like to disclose. When the story first came out, I had my staff research you.”

“You thought I did this for attention. Fame.”

Her sharp tone cut through him. “We didn’t know you. The story came out of nowhere...”

“I want nothing to do with Senator Roberts, nor do I want any part of that circus.” She jerked her head toward the window. There was raw pain in her voice and fear in her eyes. He didn’t doubt for a second that this wasn’t a publicity stunt for her. Kat genuinely didn’t want the attention. There was a backstory there, and he made a mental note to have the campaign’s private investigator do some deeper digging. They hadn’t had much time to search smaller, local newspapers for archived articles.

“Then make this story go away. If your mother is up to it, have her make a statement that it’s not true.”

“I most certainly will not do that.”

An older version of Kat walked into the room. Emilia Driscoll looked frail, far thinner than Kat but with the same blue eyes and blond hair, identical cheekbones. The PI had sent Alex Kat’s birth certificate, which showed that Kat was thirty-five and her mother had been twenty-two when she had her. Emilia was fifty-eight years old, yet she looked closer to seventy.

His own mother was about Mrs. Driscoll’s age, having had him when she was only seventeen, but she was vivacious, still working as a housekeeper despite his protests. Whenever he insisted she stop working, she’d tell him there was no shame in hard work, even if her occupation embarrassed him. There was no point in having that argument with his mother anymore.

He stood. “Ms. Driscoll, I’m Alex Santiago. I work for Senator Roberts.”

Taking her hand, he controlled his grip. She seemed so fragile; he didn’t want to break her fingers.

“Call me Emilia.” She took a seat next to her daughter on the love seat, forcing him to go back to sitting across from them. “How is Bill?”

Alex widened his smile, giving her his disarming “I’m your friend” look. “He’s doing well, ma’am. He’s currently on a plane overseas, or else he’d be here himself to talk to you.”

“Oh, I very much doubt that. Bill never wanted to deal with me personally. He arranged it so he didn’t even have to show up to court to sign the divorce papers. Gave his proxy to a lawyer.”

Alex opened his mouth to defend the senator then stopped when he saw the ice in Kat’s eyes. She put an arm around her mother.

“Mrs. Driscoll, I know this is a difficult situation...”

“Look, young man, I know where you come from in DC—people have affairs and children out of wedlock. That’s not how it works in these parts. I was raised better, and I won’t have people believing my little girl is illegitimate.”

This is going to be tougher than I thought.

“I understand how you feel, but if you don’t dispute this story, they’ll hound you all the way to the elections.” He put his elbows on his knees and folded his hands.

“Then let them.”

Kat’s hand went to her neck and he watched her turn over a pendant in her fingers. “Mom, we don’t want to deal with the media.”

“They will pick apart your lives, sensationalize every detail,” he chimed in, his voice low.

“I want Bill to claim his daughter. Publicly. It’s her birthright.” Emilia sat back, lips pressed together.

Alex stared at her. Oh, boy. Was she the anonymous source to the media?

“I’m not the one who started this thing, but I’m sure as heck gonna finish it,” she responded to his unasked question. Something in the way she said it set his intuition tingling. What more is she hiding? Her fingers played with the flowered fabric of her skirt.

“We can reimburse you for your inconvenience,” he said carefully.

Both Kat and Emilia glared at him and he realized it was the wrong thing to say.

“This is not about money. It’s about honor.” Emilia clasped her hands in her lap.

Several thoughts raced through his mind: he could have the senator call this crazy woman and talk sense into her. Or they could discredit her with the media. His phone buzzed and he excused himself to go to the kitchen.

“Yes,” he barked. Crista was on the other line.

“Alex, one of the students uploaded a video from her lectures. I just emailed it.”

Hanging up, he clicked on the email. The video came to life and he activated his Bluetooth earpiece so Kat and Emilia wouldn’t be able to hear it in the living room. He had to watch only a few minutes to get the gist of it.

He strode into the living room and switched to speaker on his BlackBerry. He pointed the video at Kat.

“Did you really say that the IED robots are a waste, and the money should be spent saving lives at home?”

She gazed at him unflinchingly. “I’m a political-science professor lecturing in class. I was legitimately criticizing his policies.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. “And you’re a registered Democrat.”

“Excuse me, but when did that become a crime?”

“It’s not, unless you’re the secret daughter of a Republican senator in a hotly contested race. You just gave the other candidate a two-point boost in the polls.”

Her eye roll told him that not only did she not care, but she wasn’t inclined to help him.

“I did a whole class on the Democratic candidate, too, pointing out his flaws. I present a balanced view to my students.”

“That’s good. Do you remember what day that class was?” He began typing an email to Crista to see if she could get that video. Senator Roberts’s poll numbers were falling every second, and with them, his odds of getting the bill passed. If the senate rank and file thought Roberts wasn’t going to win reelection, they would stop supporting him on the IED issue. Alex had spent a lot of time on things that wasted taxpayer money: initiatives that didn’t improve people’s lives, investments that were downright wrong. The IED technology was the one purchase he knew would save his soul, or at least give him an image other than that of his buddy lying on the desert sand with his leg blown off. He wasn’t going to let anything get in his way.

“I don’t want any more videos of me out there.” Kat’s frosty voice pulled him back into the moment.

“Then go outside and tell them this is a nonstory.”

Emilia stood. “Mr. Santiago, please leave my house. Now.”

He looked at Kat, who also stood and put an arm around her mother.

The doorbell rang, followed by loud knocks. They all started at each other.

Emilia Driscoll was the first to speak. “The vultures are back.”

CHAPTER THREE

“CALL THE POLICE. They’re not allowed to be on your property. They need to stay on the street.”

Kat began rummaging through the drawer in the hallway credenza. Everything was happening so fast, she needed a minute to catch her breath.

“What’re you doing?” Alex said impatiently.

“Looking for the number to the local police department.”

“It’s 911.”

“The nonemergency number.”

He picked up the phone, dialed and held it out to her. “Hello, what’s your emergency?”

“Hi, it’s not really an emergency, but I need the police.”

“Are you in danger, ma’am?” came the dispassionate voice.

‘Well, not really, but—”

Alex snatched the phone from her. “There are twenty people on the front lawn, banging on the front door and threatening to come inside. We need the police.” He rattled off the address.

Kat heard the woman put him on hold then come back and ask for his name. “I can’t talk right now. They’re breaking down the door.” He hung up the phone.

Kat stared at him.

“You lied.”

“I did not lie. I stated the facts in a dramatic way. I want the police to get here quickly.”

“And what if there’s a real crime being committed, like a woman being raped or someone getting murdered?”

“When was the last time something like that happened in this town? Most likely, they’re out patrolling the highway and you just saved a citizen from getting a speeding ticket.”

“That’s Washington logic,” she muttered. He was a typical man, bending the truth to suit himself. If someone got hurt in the process, so be it. Driven by his own needs, he didn’t care whom he trampled along the way.

They heard the scream of sirens. The pounding on the door stopped.

Kat went to the drapes and peeked out. Four police cars came to a stop, and as officers emerged, the reporters began retreating to their vans. She had to admit it was an effective idea, but she still didn’t like Alex’s manipulations. He’d been playing her since they met, and she had to remember that the sincerity in his eyes was also an act.

An officer walked up to the house and she opened the door when he knocked. She ushered him in and then noticed that Alex wasn’t in the living room. Her mother’s eyes flicked toward the bedroom.

Kat explained the situation to the gray-haired, heavyset policeman who patted her hand in a fatherly gesture.

“You’re helping my daughter with her master’s thesis.” Kat blinked back her surprise as he told her his daughter’s name. She was one of the students Kat had recently taken on. “Tell you what—I’m not supposed to be doin’ this, but I’ll ticket them for parking illegally and tell them I’ll arrest them for trespassing if they set foot on your lawn again. I can’t stop them from talkin’ to you, though. And they’ll probably accost you when you leave the house and take pictures with long-range lenses through your windows. Nothin’ I can do about that.”

Kat nodded numbly. This had to be a crazy dream; all she could hope for was to wake up soon.

The cop stood to leave. “And another thing—I don’t think they’re gonna leave you alone until you give ’em a statement. I suggest you either do that or leave town. The dean is mighty upset at you, and we’re a small-town police department. We can’t really protect you or keep comin’ out here every time these reporters cross the line.”

He gave her his card and left. Kat went to get Alex out of hiding and find out why he didn’t want his presence known, though she had her suspicions already. She rapped on the bedroom door and entered without waiting for permission. This was her room. Her house. He had no right to waltz in and demand things from them.

“It won’t end until you deny the claim,” Alex said matter-of-factly. He seemed to take up all the air in the small space. “Nice room, by the way.”

She followed his gaze, considering what he saw. Her bed was made with an old Amish quilt. The dresser held some basics. There were no pictures anywhere, no clothes loosely strewn, no underwear lying around. It was a functional room, one she hadn’t made home yet because it didn’t feel like hers. Yet, for the first time, she felt an energy in here that she hadn’t felt before. Alex stepped toward her and she resisted the urge to back away. She was in the doorway, her hip leaning against the frame.

He reached out and touched her shoulder. She looked at his hand, but the now-familiar urge to smack it away didn’t bubble up. His hand felt strong and warm. Comforting. She frowned.

“I’m not the one you need to convince. I’m ready for us to denounce this whole thing. I’m up for promotion, and the last thing I need is this media circus.” She checked her watch. The APT Committee would be meeting soon.

“Then let’s talk to your mother together.”

She nodded. “Why didn’t you want the police to see you here?”

“If anyone catches wind of me, the story becomes bigger. If you deny he’s your father, but I’m seen here, they’ll say I paid you off.”

“Like you tried to do earlier?”

He opened his mouth then suddenly turned toward the door. “Do you feel that?” He pushed past her and she realized there was a light breeze coming through the house. She followed him into the living room. The front door was open.

“Where’s your mother?”

Kat looked around, her heart sinking. Alex swore under his breath just as Kat caught sight of her mother on the front lawn, her blond hair lit up by several bright cameras.

Without thinking, she ran to the front door, but paused at the threshold. Once she stepped out, her face would be all over the cameras. Alex called to her, but she ignored him and ran to where her mother was standing. Kat wasn’t going to let her face the vultures alone.

Several cameras were trained on her mother when Kat reached her.

Out in the lead was a brown-haired reporter with perfectly styled hair and enough makeup to paint an entire canvas. With her skintight suit and stiletto heels, Kat thought she looked like a doll. “Ah, Miss Driscoll, I...”

“It’s Dr. Driscoll or Professor Driscoll,” Kat said evenly, surprised at the strength in her voice.

“Dr. Driscoll, Mrs. Driscoll, thank you for speaking to us,” said the reporter in a sugary voice.

Before Kat could say anything, her mother spoke out. “I have a statement to make, but I won’t answer questions.” There was silence among the reporters and Kat could almost see the cameras zooming in on her mother’s drawn face. “Kat was conceived when Bill and I were still married. We decided to divorce, and then I found out I was pregnant. I chose not to tell Bill. He’s never known about his daughter, and Kat has never been told who her real father is. There is no more to the story, and we want nothing from the senator. We ask you to please leave us alone.”

Every reporter spoke at once, but Kat put her arm around her mother and turned her, intending to walk back into the house. No such luck. The reporters formed a circle around them, hurtling questions at lightning speed. Her mother froze. Kat sensed panic seizing her.

“Please, let us through,” she said firmly. The reporters ignored her, slowly closing in on them. Her mother was breathing faster and faster, and Kat knew she was close to losing it. She tightened her grip and spoke more firmly. “Please let us through.” The note of desperation was clear, but it was drowned out by the cacophony of reporters. She barely heard them as her heart drummed in her ears. How were they going to get out of this?

Suddenly, the crowd separated, like the biblical parting of the Red Sea. Kat looked up to see Alex push through. He walked confidently up to them, flanked Emilia’s other side and put his arm around her, laying his hand on top of Kat’s and squeezing it reassuringly. They pushed toward the door.

The reporters stayed close, sidestepping to keep up with them, lobbing questions at Alex, which he calmly ignored. He stopped a few steps from the door and held up his hand. The crowd fell silent. “The senator is on a flight. He’ll comment when he lands. I’m here to make sure these good people aren’t unnecessarily harassed. Mrs. Driscoll will not be seeking child support. In case you hadn’t noticed, Dr. Driscoll is a grown woman. No further comments right now.”

He was smooth as silk, his lies sounding as authentic as the truth. Once they stepped over the threshold, Kat slammed the door and threw the dead bolt.

She let out a long breath, the tightness in her chest easing. “Thank you.”

He gave her a hard stare. “That was not a good move.”

Her mother looked like she was about to collapse, so Kat took her to the bedroom. The doctor had warned her against using sedatives, but she felt her mother needed one now. Or maybe she needed her mother to take one. The situation was getting more out of control by the minute. Kat took a pill from the locked cabinet in the bathroom and gave it to her mother, urging her under the covers to take a nap. Once Emilia was tucked in, Kat went to the living room to find Alex standing in front of the TV.

“They interrupted their regularly scheduled programming to air your statement.”

“It’s time for the truth to come out,” Kat said simply. She didn’t agree with her mother’s impulsive behavior, but Emilia had been remarkably brave and articulate in front of the cameras, showing more strength in the last five minutes than Kat had seen in her for the past several years.

“Well, it’s now an even bigger story than it was before. Congratulations. Until something blows up in the Middle East, the president has an affair or there’s a school shooting, the media will be playing that clip of you and your mother every thirty minutes.”

Where was the guy who came and saved them from the reporters? Kat stepped up to him, her feet planted wide. She put one hand on her hip and shook a finger in his face.

“My mother told the truth, something I know you’re not familiar with in DC. Now that it’s clear we’re not on the same side, why don’t you get out of my house and go back to your lair.”

He carefully placed the remote he was holding on the coffee table and gazed at her with a bland expression. Every cell in Kat’s body was as taut as the strings of a guitar. Breathe, Kat. This was no different than handling a rowdy classroom. Hold your ground. He took a small step in her direction, closing the distance between them so his chest was no more than a hair’s width away from her. Heat emanated from him, and her own temperature rose a few degrees. Normally she’d shrink away from a man standing this close to her, but she lifted her head so she could continue to gaze steadily into his eyes. Let me see the fire beneath your cool exterior.

Their faces were barely an inch apart. Something shifted in his gaze and his expressionless eyes turned into a warm chocolate brown. Her own nerves tingled as she caught a whiff of his spicy aftershave, and she couldn’t help but look at his mouth. His lips quirked in response and she immediately forced her eyes upward. What am I doing?

It wasn’t like she hadn’t dated since Colin. Well-meaning faculty members had a never-ending stream of friends and relatives to set her up with, and she’d been on plenty of first dates where the conversation dried up long before dessert arrived. So, okay, she hadn’t really allowed any of those guys to go beyond a peck on the cheek. And none of them made her toes curl, but whatever she was feeling was a result of adrenaline. Too much was happening all at once.

Alex took a deep breath, and she could feel his controlled exhalation. She should step back. Away from the tempting smell of his aftershave. Away from his comforting warmth. Her legs refused to move.

“I’m not going anywhere. The senator knows about you now, and he wants to talk to you and your mother.”

She stepped back. “You lied to me. I thought you said you didn’t have a way of reaching him, that he was on a plane.”

“He is.” His tone kicked up an octave, almost imperceptibly so. “Planes have Wi-Fi these days, and he has access to his email. I didn’t want to bother him with this, but after your mother made that statement...”

“You had no choice because we aren’t just a minor nuisance anymore.”

“That’s not—”

“You lied to me earlier. You told me—”

“I told you he was on a plane.”

“Right, not a technical lie in DC, but in the real world, we’d call that dishonest.” She balled her hands into fists so he wouldn’t see her shaking. “Now leave, before I call the sheriff to escort you out.”

“Kat...”

“Dr. Driscoll!”

“Fine, let me—”

The shrill ringing of a phone interrupted him. The APT Committee! She flew to her purse and dug it out.

“Katerina Driscoll,” she answered with as much normalcy as she could muster.

“Professor Driscoll, it’s Dean Gladstone.”

He was the only dean at Hillsdale; he didn’t really need to specify, but he always insisted on formality in a school where everyone referred to each other by their first name. Kat suspected he did it to remind people that he alone had the power to change the course of their lives.

She checked her watch. The APT Committee wasn’t scheduled to meet for another ten minutes. As usual, the dean got right to the point.

“We’ve decided to postpone the APT meeting. Yours was the only application we were considering, and I didn’t think it was in your best interest to have the meeting today.”

Her heart stopped. “So what does that mean for me?” She managed to control the tremor in her voice.

“Professor Driscoll, I’ve personally reviewed your application and I have concerns.”

She swallowed. It was happening all over again, just like it had with Colin. The media were blowing up a story, and she was paying the price. It had taken all of her savings and months of effort with a lawyer to get a small-town newspaper article retracted and deleted from the internet. No amount of money and lawyers could do that with a story this big; this would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“You’ve obviously worked very hard, but I’m trying to raise the caliber of faculty in this school.” Kat’s heart sank. He’d canceled the meeting because they weren’t going to give her the promotion.

“It’s hard for our little college to compete in Virginia when we have big-name universities that attract both students and faculty. We must ensure that our professors are of the highest standing.” He spoke with the kind of fake British accent that ivory-tower professors often put on. She felt like Maria in The Sound of Music getting a lecture from Mother Superior.

She sat on the bench next to the entryway and let her head rest on the wall behind her. The dean had obviously made up his mind.

While he droned on about his standards for faculty members, Kat’s mind wandered to thoughts of the senator. After all these years of wondering which shadowy politician was her father, she finally had the truth. What was he like as a man? Would he have stood by her mother if he’d known she was pregnant? Would her mother be the same woman if he’d been in their lives? Would Kat’s life have been different? Would she have picked a better man than Colin if she’d had a male role model growing up? These were all questions she’d asked herself a thousand times before, and she never came up with any answers. But maybe now...

She sat up straight. When the dean paused to take a breath, she jumped in. “Dean Gladstone, I know you don’t like my newfound notoriety, but it could be a real opportunity for the school to gain a national reputation.”

That was what Colin had done, hadn’t he? Turned the media attention to his benefit. So why couldn’t she do the same? Though he was silent, she knew the dean was still on the line because she heard his breathing. So she continued.

“What if I do a few interviews with Senator Roberts and write some articles on this race and the impact of his defense policy?”

“That’s an interesting idea,” the dean allowed. “One significant deficit in your tenure application is that you haven’t written a book.”

Kat bit her lip. She hadn’t written a book because her ex-fiancé had stolen years’ worth of analyses and sold them as his own.

“A book would make your application more competitive, particularly one analyzing your father’s policies and tracking this campaign through the election.”

That was a lot more than what Kat had in mind. Maybe she should’ve thought through this half-baked idea before blurting it out. She couldn’t commit to being away from her mother for an extended period of time. “A book would be hard to write based on a few interviews.”

The dean wasn’t listening. He talked over her. “I have a very dear friend at Harvard University Press, and if you can deliver a book in the next three months, I’ll twist his arm to publish it before the election.”

She closed her mouth. A book? Published by Harvard University Press? In the academic world, that was like hitting the New York Times bestseller list. She might have a chance at living down this story. Other career opportunities would open up; maybe she could even return to a big-time university. But that meant spending two to three months researching with her father...and with Alex.

“Dean Gladstone, covering my father through the election is a longer proposition than what I was thinking.”

“Professor Driscoll, perhaps I haven’t made myself clear, so let me be blunt. Your current application will not get you a promotion. And your newfound notoriety gives me cause to consider whether to continue your contract for next year. I’m giving you a solution—I suggest you take it.”

Kat couldn’t bring herself to hit the end button despite the insistent beeps in her ear telling her the dean had hung up. She closed her eyes. What have I done? If he didn’t renew her contract, it was too late for her to find another position. Her savings account barely held enough money to cover next month’s rent. She couldn’t afford to lose her position. More important, her mother needed the health insurance that came as a benefit.

“I couldn’t help but overhear.”

Kat opened her eyes to see Alex kneeling in front of her. She closed her phone.

“This is none of your business.”

“Actually, it is.” He squeezed the bridge of his nose, then looked up at her. “I’m going to put my cards on the table. No bull. I have a win-win solution for both of us.”

She leaned forward, searching his eyes. He was a charmer, just like Colin. But she wasn’t going to be fooled. Not again.

“The senator’s going to take a hit in the polls with your mother’s announcement. No matter what she said, our conservative state will see him as having abandoned you. The only way to manage the story now is to invite you into the fold. Come on the campaign trail. Take some pictures with the senator so he can show that he’s getting to know his newfound daughter. Your mother said she wants him to claim you, and he’s willing to do that. In return, you can spend time learning about him for your book.”

She stared at him. His eyes were pleading and she could feel herself melting. Alex was a trained liar. This whole situation was his fault. If he hadn’t put pressure on them to lie, maybe her mother wouldn’t have made that impulsive statement. But... She had a chance to find out once and for all why her father had left, and to get some answers to questions that had haunted her life. Maybe it was time she learned to use her situation to her advantage rather than curl up and wait for others to determine her fate.

“I can’t leave my mother.”

“Our campaign headquarters are in Richmond, just an hour from here. The senator uses it as a base to travel through the state. I can situate you there.”

“Is that where you work out of?”

“I split my time between Richmond and DC.”

An unwelcome pulse of disappointment went through her. She ignored it. His not being around was a good thing.

“I have two conditions.”

He lifted a brow, his lips pressing together. “I’m not sure I can meet them.”

“Then I am sure I’ll be slamming the door in your face in a few minutes.”

A vein bulged in his neck and she felt her nerves spark as she took in the curve of his neck and jawline.

“Let me hear it.”

She focused her attention back on the matter at hand. “First, no media. You can take some posed pictures of me and circulate them, with my approval, but I don’t want to be in front of the cameras like I was just now.”

He steepled his fingers and tapped them against each other. Kat found herself getting distracted by the way his fingers moved. “It’ll be faster to take the attention off you if you give a statement to the media. They hound people who avoid them.”

She shook her head. “I won’t do it. That’s nonnegotiable. Posed photos only.”

He looked down before meeting her gaze, and Kat had the distinct impression she was making a deal with the devil. “I think I can manage that. What’s the other condition?”

“I want full access to the senator and to campaign decisions.”

He opened his mouth to protest but she held up her hand.

“I will sign a limited confidentiality clause and allow you to review my final manuscript before it goes to the publisher. Review it for factual accuracy, not to change my analysis.”

His eyes locked onto hers. She didn’t blink.

“That’s the only way I’ll do it.”

“I guess there’s no way the book can be published before the November elections.”

She bit her lip. Under normal circumstances, he’d be right. It took at least nine to twelve months to bring a book to publication, but she wasn’t writing a commercial book. She should tell him about the inside track Dean Gladstone had.

“You’ve got yourself a deal.” He held out his hand.

She hesitated before taking it. Was she doing the right thing? Reluctantly, she grasped his hand, surprised at the roughness in his firm grip. He smiled, and she found herself staring at the way his lips moved, the way they curved, the contrast of their pinkness against his golden skin. Her body warmed from her hair to her toes.

This is going to be disastrous.

CHAPTER FOUR

KAT KNEW WHAT to expect from campaign headquarters, but no intellectual knowledge could have prepared her for the in-your-face chaos that greeted her. Flashbulbs exploded in her face as she stepped from her car onto the sidewalk. Alex was there in a flash, shielding her and passing reporters with a firm “Wait for the press briefing.”

Alex thought it best to come to headquarters right from the house to draw the media away from her mother. They walked through a set of glass doors and staffers from every corner of the warehouse-like space came rushing toward her. She instinctively stepped back...and bumped right into the solid mass that was Alex. His hands went around her shoulders, steadying her. He lifted one arm and extended it, palm out. The rush of people stopped barely a foot from her. Questions and introductions were hurled at breakneck speed. Alex shooed them away and steered her over to a glass-walled office in one corner. She sank into a guest chair as Alex waved to someone.

Kat turned to see a petite redhead with black-framed glasses walk in.

“Kat, this is Crista Jordyn. She’s—”

Crista held out her hand. “I do all the real work around here while Alex runs around looking good.”

Alex rolled his eyes good-naturedly. “Crista will introduce you around the office and find you a computer station. I have to go to DC.”

Kat stomped on the flare of disappointment. It was a good thing he wouldn’t be around, as she had enough to worry about between meeting her father and researching a book. The last thing she needed was to get distracted by Alex.

“When is the senator expected back?”

Alex tapped on his BlackBerry. “He’s on the ground in Cairo. He’ll video call with you at eight tonight. Crista will get you set up.”

Kat glanced at her watch. “I can only stay for two hours. I need to get home to take care of something.”

Alex looked up. “Kat, most everyone here works well into the evening. You want full access, you can’t expect to work nine-to-five...let alone just popping in when it suits you.” He began to study a sheaf of papers.

Crista took her elbow. “Let’s leave Mr. Crankypants to deal with his work.”

He didn’t acknowledge them as they walked out, and something pinched in Kat’s chest. What did she expect? He was running a major campaign and a ton of staff reported to him. Why should she feel entitled to special treatment from him? She was looking for the man she’d gotten to know back at her house, the one who rescued her mother from the talons of the reporters. Maybe what she thought had been a glimpse of the real Alex was really an aberration. After all, she had plenty of experience with men who could turn on the charm when needed.

Once out of earshot, Crista whispered to her, “He’ll be leaving soon and I’ll get you the senator’s call information. You can take it from home.”

From home? Where her mother was?

She shook her head. “I want to do my share. I’ll go home, then come back for the call.” Kat had to make sure her mother took her evening pills, but she didn’t want to upset her when she spoke with the senator.

Crista leaned forward. “I think it’s great you take care of your mom like that.”

Kat gave her a thin smile. Does everyone here know about Mom?

Crista led Kat around tables overflowing with campaign signs and papers, introducing her to the staff. To their credit, they kept the gawking to a minimum and welcomed her warmly. The place was packed with people bustling about. There were only two offices, one for Alex and one for her father. Cubicles covered most of the floor. In the center of the large space was a long conference table littered with signs. She stole several glances at Alex. He was almost always surrounded by people. The place was buzzing with energy.

He led her into a cube. “And this is Nathan Callahan. He works on defense stuff.”

Nathan swiveled in his chair, pinning her with bright blue eyes. “I hear you’ll be observing.”

“I hope to do more than just observe. I’d like to participate and be helpful. I’ve analyzed a lot of the senator’s policies.”

Crista squeezed into the little cube. “Nathan is working on some policy briefs for the IED bill.” She gave Nathan a meaningful look but he avoided her gaze. “The people back in DC, they staff the Appropriations Committee, which is really interesting work. They use Nathan’s analyses to advise the senator.”

“What do you specialize in?” Nathan asked.

Pressed between the cube wall and Crista, Kat felt claustrophobic. Everyone seemed a little too comfortable with physical proximity. “I keep abreast of all issues, but I have a particular interest in military policy.”

Nathan quirked an eyebrow. “Interest, huh? Well, I have six years of experience—” Before he could say more, Crista shot him a searing look.

“Why don’t you send Kat the briefing materials you have on the IED bill.”

He frowned. “Those are internal. Have you checked with Alex?”

“The senator wants her to have full access.”

Nathan opened his mouth in obvious protest, but Crista stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder. “Nathan, trust me—the senator wants this.”

Nathan’s face softened. Kat suppressed a smile at the puppy-dog look in his eyes. Crista stepped out of the cube and Kat was behind her in a flash.

“Have you spoken to my...the senator today?” Kat asked.

Crista shook her head. “Alex talked to him about the deal you made and the senator sent me an email.” She stopped and Kat almost ran into her. Crista pulled her to the wall as if the extra foot would give them even a modicum of privacy. “The senator has a lot of respect for Alex,” she whispered. “But when he wants something done without a lot of argument, he’ll email me and ask me to take care of it.”

What did that even mean? Kat wanted to ask more, but Alex was storming toward them. He had taken off his suit jacket and loosened his tie. She straightened and felt Crista melting into the background, her ever-present BlackBerry back in her hands.

Alex stopped mere inches away from her, and she resisted the urge to back away. She met his gaze evenly, waiting for whatever it was that had him grinding his teeth.

“Did you talk to anyone on the way here this morning?” he thundered.

Kat straightened. “You know very well I wouldn’t. What’s this about?”

“The story about you writing a book on your father got leaked.”

Kat’s stomach bottomed out. He loomed over her and she sucked in a breath, immediately regretting it. His scent assaulted her senses, a spicy deodorant and the clean smell of soap. For some unfathomable reason, her body seemed to welcome his closeness. After Colin, she’d wanted nothing more than to lash out at every man that got within touching distance, so why wasn’t she pushing Alex away?

“I didn’t even tell my mother about our deal. She thinks I’m here to take care of paperwork.” Her voice was squeakier than she wanted.

His gaze flicked behind her shoulder, and then he lowered his head and whispered, “Kat, if this is about sabotaging the senator’s campaign...”

She stepped back. “Why would I do that?”

He opened his mouth then closed it, obviously rethinking whatever he’d been about to say. She leaned in. “I’m not a seasoned politician—I don’t play games. What you see is what you get from me.”

He stared at her, his brown eyes at once expressive and shuttered, as if he was processing and then denying what he knew to be true.

“Then how did the media get hold of the story?”

“It must have been Dean Gladstone.”

He frowned and muttered something under his breath.

“What is it?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I don’t have time to deal with this today.” For a moment, he looked weary. “I need you to fix this.”

Without thinking, she put a hand on his arm. “How?”

His eyes softened into pools of milk chocolate. They were mesmerizing. When he spoke, his voice was warm. “Give a statement to the media that you want to get to know your father. They’re loving the fact that you’re at campaign headquarters.”

She retracted her hand. It didn’t take him long, did it? “No,” she said simply, her fury threatening to erupt like a volcano. She could sense people surreptitiously watching them while pretending to be on their phones or studying their computer screens.

“What? You wouldn’t be lying—that’s part of the reason you’re here, isn’t it?”

She flinched at his harsh tone. “Alex, I told you, no media jaunts. That was our deal,” she said quietly.

“But...”

“Right now, it’s the book story. In another hour it’ll be something else. Once I step into the limelight, I’ll never get out. If you can’t respect the deal we made just hours ago, then it’s best I leave and we don’t speak again.”

“Why are you so afraid of the media?”

She crossed her arms. She didn’t owe him anything. He tapped on his BlackBerry then turned it toward her. His voice was soft.

“Is it because of this?”

She looked down and recoiled. It was a picture of her from three years ago, talking to the police and paramedics. She was front and center, holding a compress to her cheek; Colin was in the background with a bandage on his head. A freelance photographer had come by after he heard her 911 call on the police scanners. He sold the photo to the newspapers. The story only appeared in the local daily, but it had been enough to get her fired. How had Alex found it? She’d paid a lawyer to get a court order for the newspaper to remove it from their online archives.

She put a hand to her mouth and stepped back, staring at the incriminating caption: Scorned professor lashes out at boyfriend.

“That wasn’t my fault.”

He reached out and touched her hand. “Kat, CNN found this and they’re going to run it. You need to tell me your side of the story.”

Eyes wide, she squeezed his arm. “You have to stop them. Whatever it takes, you have to stop them.” She knew her voice was too loud because the staffers were no longer being discreet about their glances, but she didn’t care. The story couldn’t get out. It had taken her over a year to live it down enough to get her job at Hillsdale College, even after the story was scrubbed from the internet. She suspected that Colin had called around and gotten her blackballed at most of the major universities.

He nodded. “I’ll handle it, but you need to tell me what happened.”

She sighed. Even her mother didn’t know the whole story. “I had a fight with my then fiancé. He basically stole years’ worth of my work. I confronted him and told him that I planned to bring plagiarism charges against him. I had proof that the work was mine, dated emails that showed the research I did, et cetera. He didn’t take the news well and got violent. I fought back hard. He bumped his head and called 911, concocting a story about how I was mentally unstable. He said I attacked him first.”

Alex clenched his fists. “Why would anyone believe him?”

“Earlier that day, I also found out he was having an affair with the dean of the school. I vented to a fellow faculty member, a woman who I thought was my friend. You know how you say things like ‘I’ll kill him’ in anger? Well, later she said I was so angry, she was worried I would actually hurt him. The dean fired me and it took months before another school would even grant me an interview.” She touched the pendant on her neck, rolling it between her fingers. Did Alex believe her? No one else had; the media had portrayed her as the classic woman scorned.

“Where is he now?”

Kat reeled at the murderous look in Alex’s eyes. The warmth was gone, replaced by a smoldering darkness. She shrank back.

“He’s still faculty at Wellingforth University,” she said carefully. “Colin wanted so badly to be promoted, to be able to show his daddy that he had amounted to something. I think he believed I wouldn’t make a fuss about him using my research, but when I threatened him, he lost control. He was desperate not to make a fool of himself. The university said I had to drop all claims to the book if I wanted my severance pay, which I needed at the time. If it hadn’t been for that story...” Her voice cracked and she took a breath. “Every interview I went to, that article came up. With my mother’s history mentioned in there, they just thought I’d come unhinged, too. Even after I had it taken down, it took a year before people stopped asking me about it. My mother, she became so distraught, I don’t think she’s ever recovered. We had to start a whole new medication regimen.”

She blinked back tears and acid burned in her stomach. What was wrong with her? She was over it; the incident was now three years ago. She’d put it behind her. “Those reporters never bothered to get my side. I spent all my savings fighting with the courts to get the story taken off the internet.”

He shook his head. “It’s almost impossible to erase something that’s been posted on the internet. All you did was make it a little more difficult to find, but CNN dug it up.”

“Please, Alex...”

He nodded. “Whatever it takes, I’ll kill the story. I can’t promise other outlets won’t find it and harass you, but I won’t put you in front of them.”

Their eyes locked and a sense of relief washed over her. It didn’t make any sense, but somehow she knew Alex would protect her. He wouldn’t let the old story hurt her again.

She jumped when Crista grabbed her elbow. “Hey, your computer is ready. Let’s get you settled in.”

Alex took a breath, his eyes a dark brew of black and brown. He and Crista exchanged a meaningful look, and then he turned and left without a word.

Kat exhaled.

“Don’t worry about him—he’s that intense with everyone,” Crista said smoothly. Kat followed her, marveling at how she’d handled Alex. How she’d been handling him. She wondered whether there was more to Alex and Crista’s relationship than boss and assistant. Hadn’t she seen sparks between Crista and Nathan earlier? Campaigns were notorious for affairs. Long hours working together with no outside life could pull anyone together. Something flared in her chest, but she tamped it down. It was none of her business whom Alex dated. She needed to focus on writing her book.

“So, Crista, what’s your secret?”

Crista turned with a puzzled expression. “What do you mean?”

Kat gave a nervous laugh. “You know, with Alex and Nathan—how do you get your way with them?”

The moment the words were out of her mouth, Kat wanted to run and hide in her car. What’s with you? She was not a gossip, nor should she care about whatever was going on in Alex’s personal life.

Crista motioned toward a desk and Kat sheepishly took a seat. Crista pulled up a nearby stool and huddled in close.

“You’ll hear the rumors soon enough, so I’ll just give you the lowdown. Alex and I were an item, like, two years ago when I worked on the Hill for Congresswoman Burton. I broke it off. Then this job came up and Alex was man enough to hire me because I’m the best person for it.”

Kat wasn’t surprised given the familiarity she’d observed between the two of them, but something kicked in her stomach. What man would hire an ex-girlfriend who’d dumped him? Probably one who still had feelings for that ex.

“Why did you break up?” Kat couldn’t believe she was asking the question. Despite herself, she was curious about Alex.

“I was getting too attached.” Crista studied the BlackBerry in her hand. She still had feelings for Alex; that much was obvious. “He’s a great guy—don’t get me wrong. He treated me so well... It was the hardest thing I’ve done in my life. But he was never going to marry someone like me.”

“Someone like you?”

“Alex has political aspirations. He needs a woman with a pedigree, like someone with the last name Kennedy. I joke with him about missing the boat with Chelsea Clinton. He needs a tall, beautiful, impeccably dressed woman who can stand in front of the camera and talk about world peace and saving our children.”

She pointed to a stain on her blouse, something Kat hadn’t even noticed. “I’m lucky if I make it into work wearing matching clothes.”

Kat smiled. “Then I’m in good company.” She marveled at the ease with which Crista spoke about Alex after knowing Kat for all of fifteen minutes. Kat didn’t have any close friends; it had been hard for her to work on friendships when she was constantly unavailable. The few girlfriends she’d had when she was younger didn’t understand why she had to run home all the time when they wanted to hang out. Eventually, they stopped inviting her to events, realizing her RSVP would always be no.

After Crista left, Kat worked on setting up her email and reading the briefs that various staff had sent her. A frisson of excitement coursed through her. She’d only studied campaigns from afar. Never had she been in the throes of something like this.

As uncertain as the decision had felt just a couple of hours ago, she knew she’d done the right thing. She would be forced to interact with people other than her students and get out of the house during the summer months. Normally, she taught a summer class, but this year the political-science department had decided not to offer courses in order to allow students to work on campaigns for college credit. Now she didn’t have to dread the long summer months with nothing to do. This would be good for her.

The first email she had was from Alex, sent minutes before their most recent encounter. She opened it.

From: ASantiago@SenatorRoberts.com

To: KDriscoll@SenatorRoberts.com

Subject: Welcome

Kat,

Despite the circumstances, I’m glad you’re here. I look forward to getting to know you. Welcome.

—Alex

PS: Consider changing your name to Kat Roberts.

Kat reread the email. The nerve of him!

“He has a point, you know.”

Crista’s voice startled her. She whirled in her chair to find the woman standing behind her, openly reading the email on her screen.

“Excuse me—isn’t it rude to snoop?” Kat winced at her snarky tone. After Crista had been so open with her, Kat should be a little nicer, but she wasn’t used to such unfiltered sharing.

Crista laughed and gestured around her. “There’s no privacy here on purpose. People jump ship on campaigns all the time. That’s why strategies are closely guarded secrets and Alex and I have access to every email that goes out on our servers. That’s actually what I was coming here to tell you—and to give you this paperwork to sign, which includes a privacy notice that says you have none.”

Kat stared at her. Was she serious?

Crista nodded at her screen. “And he’s right. The optics would be much better if you changed your name. Maybe not right now, but closer to the election.”

Kat didn’t have the words to respond to the casual tone Crista used, as if they were talking about her switching from regular to diet soda instead of changing her entire identity.

She finally found her voice. “I will not change my name. It’s my mother’s name, and I’m proud of it.”

Crista shrugged and walked away.

Kat turned back to her screen and hit the reply button. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure no one else appeared behind her.

From: KDriscoll@SenatorRoberts.com

To: ASantiago@SenatorRoberts.com

Subject: You are unbelievable

Alex,

Asking me to change my name is not the way to welcome me. The answer is NO.

—Kat

PS—next time you want to welcome someone, try chocolates. I prefer mine dark and nutty, none of the sugary, cherry-filled kind.

Satisfied, she took one more look over her shoulder and hit Send before she could lose her nerve. She immediately went to the next email, which was from Nathan—a terse note explaining the files that were attached. The first file hadn’t even downloaded when she saw an email pop up from Alex.

Frowning, she craned her neck to peer into his office. He wasn’t there. She clicked the message.

From: ASantiago@SenatorRoberts.com

To: KDriscoll@SenatorRoberts.com

Subject: Thick skin

You’ll find campaign staff don’t have time for sugar coating or cherry fillings.

But I’m all for a woman who likes dark and nutty.

Sent from my BlackBerry

Her face heated. She minimized the message and looked behind her before she reread it. Was he flirting with her?

“Here you go.” She nearly jumped out of her chair as one of the campaign staffers she’d met earlier appeared. He handed her a BlackBerry. “It’s all set up for you. Use this instead of your personal phone from now on—hackers are likely monitoring your text and phone messages so they can sell something to the media.”

She opened her mouth to ask the pimply-faced intern if he was serious, but he turned and left before she had a chance. She deleted Alex’s emails and went back to reviewing the documents Nathan had sent. Whatever game Alex was playing, she would not indulge him.

Hours passed like minutes. Kat immersed herself in the policy briefs she’d received. The analysis was fascinating and unlike the academic ones she was accustomed to. Nathan’s arguments could almost convince her the IED bill was justified. Almost. She made several notes for her book.

When she looked at her watch, she realized with dismay that she wouldn’t have time to go home and make it back before the scheduled call with her father. She walked to Crista’s desk and asked if they could move the video chat to another day. Crista handed her a tablet computer. “Here, this works on cellular. You can take the call from your car so your mother won’t find out.”

Kat blew out a breath. “What exactly do you know about my mother’s situation?”

Crista continued tapping away at her computer. “Everything. We researched you when the news story broke and were able to get the claims made on your health insurance, so we’re aware your mother is on mood stabilizers. I assume that’s why you need to go home.”

Fire erupted inside her. Kat gripped the tablet so hard, her fingers whitened. “That type of information is private. How did you get it?”

Crista turned in her seat, finally focusing her eyes on Kat. “Don’t be upset. Privacy is an illusion. We hire a firm to do investigations for us—every high-profile campaign does. In this electronic world, information is abundant.”

Kat muttered her thanks for the tablet and rushed out to her car. Someone had moved it to an underground parking spot the senator used when he needed to come in and out of headquarters without battling the media. She was shaking with anger, but there was no point in taking it out on Crista.

It took her several minutes of clicking her electronic key to find the car, but she was relieved not to encounter a horde of reporters waiting for her when she did. She sat with her hands resting on the steering wheel. Something buzzed and pinged in her purse, and she reached inside to retrieve the BlackBerry. It was an urgent text from Alex.

You ok? Crista says you seem upset.

She resisted the urge to throw the device out the window. She tapped back a message.

Privacy is important to me.

The response was almost instant.

We’re a small campaign staff. It’s not personal.

What did that even mean? Not personal? It was the very definition of personal. There were at least thirty people inside that campaign office and they all knew every intimate detail of her life.

She put the phone in her purse and started the car. In two hours, she would be talking to her father for the first time. She needed to prepare herself. The BlackBerry buzzed and pinged insistently. She put the car back in Park and picked it up.

The senator is looking forward to talking to you. Need anything?

Yes, she needed to go back in time, before the story broke, when she was all set to get her promotion. A gnawing ache grew in her stomach. Had she miscalculated? Alex made a good case for how her working on the campaign was a win for both of them, but she didn’t trust him. What was the play? She put the phone on silent. She needed some quiet time to think.

Kat’s mind whirled as she drove home, and she was grateful that the rush-hour traffic on I-95 had abated. She made it home in less than an hour. The news vans were gone; they’d left after Alex had made a statement that she was moving to Richmond to work on her father’s campaign. He’d even gotten her to roll out an empty suitcase when they left the house earlier in the day, explaining that the media didn’t have unlimited resources. They would take the stakeout to Richmond, and they had. Alex was a smooth operator. Just like Colin.

She entered the house and found her mother sitting in the living room with the TV on. Kissing her on the cheek, Kat noted her color was better.

“How’re you doing?”

Her mother’s eyes were bright. “You didn’t have to come back early. I took my meds.”

Kat raised a brow. Every evening was a battle to get her mother to take her medications. There had been several days when she’d actually resorted to mixing them in her food or tea. But the pillbox containing her mother’s daily medications was empty. Nothing in the trash. Had her mother flushed them down the toilet? Kat didn’t want to re-dose her—too much was just as bad as not enough. She’d learned that the hard way. In the past year, the medications had gotten more complicated than ever. Her mother’s doctor seemed to be getting stricter about dosages and schedules for both sedatives and mood stabilizers.

She went back to the living room and sat with her mother. Emilia was in better spirits than Kat had seen in months. They watched the news in companionable silence. Her name was mentioned in a three-minute story but it had stopped being top news. Alex had made a statement outside headquarters a few hours ago saying that the campaign had asked Kat to write an honest report on her father’s defense policies. She rolled her eyes.

“He’s quite the charmer, isn’t he?”

Kat couldn’t agree more.

“I’m glad Bill is finally going to know you,” Emilia continued. “I tried contacting him, you know, after the divorce. To tell him. But he wouldn’t take my calls.”

Kat turned to her mother. She’d spent years trying to get her to talk about her father. “I thought you said you didn’t tell him.”

“Because he never gave me the chance. He was so angry with me for leaving him.”

Kat’s eyes widened. She’d always thought it was her father who broke things off. “Why did you leave him?”

Her mother sighed. “We had a whirlwind romance in college during our senior year. He asked me to marry him on our third date. Graduation was coming up, and he wanted me to come with him, to his home in Northern Virginia, so we could be close to DC. I hardly knew him, but he was charming and so handsome. I was young and didn’t know any better. After we were married, it all started.”

Her mother stared at the TV. Kat picked up the remote and turned it off. “What started, Mom?”

“First, his mother told me I needed to change the way I dress. Be more like Jackie O. She took me shopping. I hated those clothes—they were itchy and uncomfortable. Then Bill took me to a cocktail party where they were talking about the Cold War. I spoke up and told them what I thought, that we needed to focus on jobs at home, not on stockpiling weapons and hunting down spies.”

She shook her head. “Bill laughed at me, called me a silly woman. I was so embarrassed. When we got home, he told me I had no business making those comments. My job at those parties was to smile and look pretty.”

Kat’s heart ached for her mother. For most of Kat’s life she’d been sick, but once in a while when her medication was just right, Emilia showed Kat a glimpse of the intelligent and vibrant woman she was. She had often wondered whether her mother would have been a different person if she hadn’t been heartbroken over her father.

“There was always something. I didn’t know how to host a proper dinner party or smile properly when the photographers snapped our picture. I started staying home more and we drifted apart. I could tell I wasn’t the wife he’d hoped for. Then one night I heard his daddy tell him that I was going to ruin his dreams of becoming president. He told his father he’d made a commitment to me, and as a good Christian, he wasn’t going to break his marriage vows. He said he’d just have to give up his dreams. That’s when I left.”

Kat put her arm around her mother. Emilia wiped her eyes. “I loved him, Kat. I wasn’t going to be the reason he didn’t become the great man I knew he could be.”

“Did you tell him why you left?”

Her mother nodded. “I told him we weren’t right for each other, that he needed to marry a woman who could be his first lady. He was so angry with me...wouldn’t talk to me after I left...said I’d abandoned him. Then you came and I had a new purpose in life. By then he’d remarried and had a perfect new wife. I saw them on TV, the perfect couple. She looked great on camera. I figured if I said anything he might sue for custody, and I’d lose you, too.”

So that was when it had all started. Kat’s aunt had told her that undiagnosed postpartum depression had made her mother spiral out of control. But what if it was heartbreak, too? She squeezed her eyes shut to keep from crying. “I don’t have to do this, Mom. I don’t need to know him. I’ll quit the campaign.”

Her mother grabbed her arm. “No, Katerina, I want you to know your father. I should have found a way to tell him. You need him now.”

Something in her mother’s tone gripped her heart. “What do you mean, Mom?”

Her mother shook her head. “It’s time, Kat. It’s time.”

Kat wanted to press her mother, but a look at the wall clock told her it was almost time for the video call with the senator. Muttering an excuse about a grocery-store errand, she left. She drove to a nearby coffee shop and parked in a dark spot.

After powering up the tablet and following Crista’s instructions to sign into the video chat app, all she had to do was wait. The senator would initiate the call. Her heart was pounding so loudly, she was sure he’d be able to hear it on the other end. She took out the BlackBerry to distract herself and noticed several messages from Alex. She must’ve missed them when she was talking to her mother.

Do you want to come to DC tomorrow? Briefings on the IED bill.

Would be good experience for you.

Hello?

Good material for your book.

Kat? I see your BlackBerry is online. Are you ignoring me?

This is not how I expect my staff to behave.

She’d seen the other staffers constantly glued to their phones, but she refused to use the holster that would let her clip it to her person. Crista went as far as to say that she only wore clothes that allowed her to attach the BlackBerry. Kat thought about how to play this with him. Going to Washington, DC, tomorrow? It would be a three-hour drive for her, and she’d have to leave well before dawn to avoid the horrendous rush-hour traffic in DC. It was a long trip for one day. But she would get to spend it with Alex, away from campaign headquarters. Maybe she could grill him about his endgame, find out what he was up to with her.

She thought about how easily she’d melted under his intense gaze. Was it a smart idea to spend more time with Alex? She punched out a message.

Chill. My BlackBerry was in my purse.

His response came seconds later. The man must have lightning-fast fingers.

Keep it on you at all times. That’s an order.

Really?

I don’t take orders from you.

She waited.

You do if you want to work on the campaign. DC tomorrow. Be here by 9.

She stuck her tongue out at the device.

I’ll be there at 8. Be available to sign me in.

She was not, in fact, going to take orders from him, and tomorrow was a good opportunity to tell him face-to-face.

The tablet chimed and her father’s face lit up the screen. With trembling fingers, she touched the answer button.

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