I raised my palms. “Sorry.”

“He was leaving,” Charlotte said, pushing me past the girls and out the door.

I could feel her hands on my arms and I relished the brief contact, until we were outside and she kept walking away from me.

I held her arm and pulled her back into the dark hallway. “Wait.”

“Why are you doing this?”

I didn’t let go of her arm. “Honestly, I don’t know. I just … I guess I miss you.”

A small smile appeared on her lips. “Do you miss all the girls you hook up with during spring breaks? Oh, there’s summer too, right? Busy town during summers, right?”

Annoyance was making its way into me. “For your information, I am not that kind of guy.” Wasn’t I? That was what I said I would do. “I had the same girlfriend for three years before you.”

Her smile faded. “Please, Mason …”

“What?” I slid my hands up her arms, pulling her closer. “Tell me about it.” But she didn’t. She averted her eyes. “Why are you acting so stiff and reserved?”

She jerked away from me. “That’s who I am. I call it refined and educated. Or even elegant.”

She was certainly refined, educated, and elegant, but that wasn’t it. “No, no. You’re not like that. Come on. I saw you.”

“Who you saw is someone I cannot be.”

So, that was it. She couldn’t be like that here.

“But that’s who you are, isn’t it?” I walked up to her, towering over her, pushing her against the wall. “That’s who you have to be.”

Her eyes grew wide and she looked side to side, as if trying to find a way out of my trap.

“What are you going to do? Tell the world what a slut I am?” Her beautiful eyes filled with tears. “What do you want? Will you ask for money to stay quiet?”

I gave one step in her direction, bumping my legs onto hers—only a few inches separated my body from hers now—and reached around her, brushing my fingertips along the bare skin of her back.

“I want you,” I whispered in her ear. Her breath hitched, and I took pleasure in feeling her back arching with my touch, her body shivering with my breath.

Her hands grasped my arms. “Please,” she gasped.

I loved when she begged. “I want the real you. The one that spent six wonderful days with me.” I slid my tongue along her jaw and her nails dug into the skin of my arms. Damn, her scent was like drugs. I was addicted. “The one I know is in there. Let her out. For me.”

“I can’t,” she whispered. Then she pushed me back and, in tears, she dashed away.

Stunned, I watched as she stopped by the VIP area, said something to Tracy, and then ran downstairs.

I hurried after her, but when I got to the dance floor, I lost her.

Charlotte

Being the governor’s daughter was serious business. I had to attend several balls, meetings, and fundraisers, and visited nonprofit organizations. Before, it was a pastime. Now it was boring. The people were always smiling as if they had perfect lives, they dressed as if they were on runways, and they wasted fine food as if there was no hunger in the world. It was not only boring, but also disgusting.

“Are you going to keep frowning when we get there?” my mother asked from beside me on the Lincoln’s backseat.

I made sure my forehead wasn’t wrinkled and glanced her way. Peyton McClain looked regal in her indigo suit and pearls, her legs crossed and her back stiff.

I barely slept after leaving Mason behind at that club in Washington last night. I had gone with the friends my mother approved of, because I had promised I would, but it had all been an act. I showed up, played pretty, coy, and innocent, and then left. That was the plan, until Mason marched in the bathroom and took my breath away. How was I supposed to know I would meet him like that again?

I tried to sleep, but how could I when every time I closed my eyes, I saw Mason in front of me, teasing his fingertips on my bare skin, his mouth on my neck? I shivered just remembering. Tired of fighting with sleep that didn’t come, I got up early and was literally thrown into work with my mother. It was a goddamn Sunday and I wanted rest and peace, but my mother’s political career couldn’t wait.

“No,” I whispered. “I’ll smile, as I always do.”

Peyton narrowed her eyes. “I don’t expect anything less of you.”

Of course not.

The Lincoln rolled to a stop before a white building, and the chauffer helped us out. The only bright side of this outing was that Donnie had commitments with his father and couldn’t be with us.

Soon after our arrival, I was surprised to find this event wasn’t as bad as I first thought. My mother and I strolled through the big conference room, meeting families who had lost someone they loved because of the war. Most were wives and kids who had lost their fathers—soldiers in the Army.

Just like my mother and I had lost my father to terrorists.

Times like this I believed I could go through with this. I could try. I could even make a difference. Not being a politician. God, no. But being the wife of a politician. Organizing these events, bringing hope and comfort to people in need. It wasn’t all bad.

After I had spent a half hour circulating and talking and hugging, a small girl tugged on my pencil skirt. She was probably seven years old. Her blond hair fell down her back in tight curls and her big blue eyes shone with unshed tears.

“Is it true you lost your father too?” the girl asked.

I crouched before the girl. “Yes.”

A woman, with blond curls and bright hazel eyes, caught up with us. She held a toddler in her arms. “I’m so sorry. She just wandered off, saying she had to speak with you. I’m so, so sorry.” The woman held the girl’s arm.

“No, it’s fine,” I said. “What’s your name?”

“Natalia,” the girl said. “This is my mom, Jennie, and my little brother, Jacob.”

I shook Jennie’s hand. “Nice to meet you.” I stood, noticing my mom was right behind me. I stepped aside. “This is my mom, Peyton.”

“Hello,” Natalia said with a small smile.

When Peyton said nothing, I nudged her back.

“Oh, hello—” She shot me a confused look.

“Natalia,” I whispered.

“Hello, Natalia,” my mother said, regaining her composure. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too, governor,” the girl said. “Charlotte was telling me she lost her father too.”

Peyton glanced at me, her eyes soft for the first time in a long time. I smiled.

“Yes, she did,” Peyton said. “She was only twelve when George was killed.”

“Honey,” Jennie hissed. “You’re bothering them.”

“It’s okay,” Peyton said, surprising me.

Natalia stared at me. “My mom always says we’ll be fine, that it’ll hurt less someday, but I never believe her. But you’re okay, and you’re pretty and like a princess. You turned out okay. I hope to be like you someday.”

I felt the tears building behind my eyes. I glanced at my mother, before taking Natalia’s hand. “I loved my father and he’ll always be a part of me, but yes, it does hurt less now.” She kissed Natalia’s cheek. “You can be whatever you want to be, as long as you don’t disrespect others and do it from your heart. I promise you, you’ll be okay.”

Natalia beamed. “Thank you.”

Peyton wiped a tear from her eye and said, “If you turn out like Charlotte, I’m sure your mother will be proud of you.”

What? I gaped at my mother.

After several goodbyes and thanks, Jennie was able to pull Natalia away, but I couldn’t stop gaping at my mother.

Peyton linked her arm through mine and guided me through the crowd, to talk to other families and finish our social agenda.

“I still can’t believe it,” I said. “Can you please repeat that?”

Peyton shot me an annoyed look. “Why the surprise? Despite our differences and arguments, you’re mostly a good daughter.”

Mostly. Of course, my mother would never think I was good enough. Still, mostly was better than nothing.