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I couldn’t be.
I stumbled against the wall, putting my head in my hands.
You were never just some girl from Jersey. You were always a princess.
I held the wall, trying to get Gabby’s voice out of my head. This wasn’t my life. I didn’t want this. The music stopped and everyone looked up at the stage as forks tapped against fine crystal glass, echoing in the room like thousands of wind chimes. It was beautiful sounding, ethereal.
I hated it.
I didn’t want this. I wanted to go back to being Frankie Notte, staring at pictures on the wall and not really seeing them. The sound of clinking rose higher, loud and urgent, like cicadas had invaded the ballroom. Then it was quiet, deathly so.
Governor Dubois stepped up to the mic and started talking. He said some things about the party, lightened the mood, but I saw beyond that. There was something deeper, something darker. I ground my jaw at the gnawing voice in my head that sounded too much like Gabby.
Everyone was too busy staring at the stage to notice me falling to the ground. My legs were too heavy, my chest too tight. My red ball gown pooled around my feet like melted ruby. I stared at the satin, the way it caught the light reminded me of blood. It would be blood if I continued to play princess. When I’d traded my life, I hadn’t thought about what it would mean. I just did it, because that’s what you do for the people you love. If you see they’re about to die, you dive in front
of that fucking train. But the past month? It’d been like diving in front of the train over and over and over again.
I couldn’t stand Beast. Knowing he saw me as nothing was the worst torture. He commanded parts of me, completely controlled them, yet wanted nothing to do with them. He’d taken things from me without my consent. If I continued, he’d take my heart. I knew it. I had to get out before that happened, but playing princess would prolong the torture. I would have preferred traditional torture—you know, bamboo shoots in the nails, waterboarding.
I hate him for what he’s done to me.
Hate him.
“Frankie?” I snapped my eyes to the voice, immediately recognizing it. It was a carnal reaction, as if he held a string that he could pull and I would jerk to it. “What’s wrong?” I looked from Beast to the stage, remembering how he’d dropped me on my ass to walk up there, right after I’d given another piece of myself to him. I sighed jaggedly. He pulled my chin to his, looking into my eyes, trying to see beyond, trying to pull more of me to him.
No. No more.
I jerked my chin away but he pulled me up and wrapped his arms around me.
Why did this feel so right? Why couldn’t it feel wrong?
“I thought you were supposed to be on stage,” I murmured against his chest. “Don’t you have duties to attend to?”
“No,” he said simply. His fingers ran through my hair, caressing me in even strokes. I closed my eyes, leaning into his chest getting lost in the smell of him. For a moment I let myself sink into the feeling, into the lie.
But then I opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was his friend, the evil one who’d called me a dog, Crazy A. His glare was harsh and he looked at me like I was doing something wrong. He looked at me the way I knew I should feel, telling me everything I kept refusing to acknowledge, that Beast would never love me.
I swallowed and tried to pull away, breaking the spell between us. Sounds came rushing back in. Sounds of low music, hushed conversation, and the voice of Governor Dubois on stage. I noticed everyone around us. Beast only looked at me.
“I’m overjoyed to announce,” Governor Dubois said into the mic, “the temporary appointment of Emilio De Luca to senate—”
“You fucking motherfucker!” Everyone snapped their heads to the new voice, even Beast. A man, disheveled in appearance, with a wrinkled red tie that hung off his neck and a stained suit, ran into the room. At the top of the stairs, he pointed down.
It was Senator Hatch, but he looked nothing like the man I’d grown up watching. Senator Hatch had been in office as long as I’d been alive. With salt and pepper hair, a perfectly tanned face, and few wrinkles—likely due to a good relationship with a plastic surgeon—he wasn’t just a New York icon, he was prominent in the world. Hatch was one of the longest sitting senators and buddy-buddy with the Hollywood elite.
Which was why it had been such a shock, so horrible when Gabby told me the news.
He wasn’t pointing at Governor Dubois, though. He was pointing at Beast.
“You motherfucker!” he continued. “My life is ruined. You promised. You said if I stepped down you wouldn’t do it!” Security was coming in but the senator continued to run down the stairs, looking crazed. “Those men are liars!” Senator Hatch screamed. “They made a deal with me and they fucking lied!” I tried to follow where he was pointing now, but his movements were too crazed. “Governor Dubois is in league with the mafia and this new senator is just a puppet. This whole place is corrupt!”
Camera flashes were going off so quickly the whole place was illumined. Excited chatter broke out around us, and when Hatch’s hand finally settled, it landed on Beast.
On us, because Beast still hadn’t let me go.
Security ran into the room, gripping Hatch by the arms. The senator kept screaming as he was pulled out of the room, but it was too late. Everything Hatch had said had been recorded by the press and imprinted in the minds of the partygoers. My gaze moved over to where Crazy A stood, feeling like he was looking at me. Big O, Little O, and Pretty Boy had joined him. All of their stares were on me, and they looked at me like I’d caused this.
It seemed there had been some kind of deal between Hatch and Beast, and apparently that deal had gone south. It made sense at least…in the ugly way that I was starting to understand was the true way of the world—not the world I’d grown up believing was Senator Hatch and his pretty face and pretty words, but Beast’s world. All four of them were looking at me like I had ruined everything. I looked away, but Gabby’s words took root inside of me.
