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“Excuse me?”
I swing my arm around Reign’s shoulder, pointing at the building behind me. “My friend was fucking attacked last night, and the first thing on your list is to make a story about it? Get the fuck out of here,” I snap.
Her lips smack, absolutely speechless as her eyes dance from me to my friends, and back to me. “I… I…”
The cameraman steps up behind her, lowering the camera. He places his beefy hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze. “Bridget, maybe we should—”
Bridget’s hand goes up, and she slices her thin fingers through the air. She’s tiny, really. The only reason she looks tall right now is the four-inch black heels she’s wearing. “Keep rolling, Brock, this one might be able to give us a good story.” A rude smile lifts her lips, and she adjusts herself, a mask falling over her face as she readies to try to ruin my reputation.
“Lakyn Ashford, step away from the camera right now.” The booming voice of my father cuts through the crowd, and I spin on my feet, seeing him, my mom, George, and two other of his longtime lackeys walking toward us. They’re all dressed to the nines, and I want to roll my eyes and kick dirt onto their pressed clothes.
Bridget’s face pales slightly as she watches my father, and then she turns back to me, her jaw slackened. “Ashford? Are you related to Barnett Ashford?”
I roll my eyes. “Yes, my father is the governor.”
She swallows, lowering her microphone slightly. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, looking apologetic, nervous, and worried.
My father steps in front of me, and George pushes the camera crew away. My father grips my wrist, and I can hear a growl come from behind me as I’m pulled away from Bridget and her truck, off to the side, beneath a tall oak tree.
“Tell me you had nothing to do with this,” he growls once we’re alone.
My eyes widen, and I swing my eyes up to his, a sharp, offended breath slipping past my lips. “Are you honestly asking me that question right now?” I ask.
He stands still as a statue, his face not flinching in the slightest as he watches me. “It’s a yes or no question, Lakyn. The fact that you can’t answer it makes me wonder if you are actually involved.”
I grit my teeth. “Are you asking me if I attempted to kill my best friend?”
His lips purse, and he gives me a nod. “Well? Did you, Lakyn?”
I shake my head slowly. “Un-fucking-believable. How you’re my father is beyond me,” I whisper, hurt and appalled at his words. How could he possibly think I could kill my best friend? Does he think I’m a monster, some maniac that gets high off murdering people?
My own father doesn’t even know me.
His hand snaps out, and he wraps it around my wrist.
“Hey, Ashford!” Archer’s voice rocks through the air, and I glance over my shoulder, seeing the four guys stalking up to my father, equal levels of rage on their faces. The girls are behind them, their bodies tensed, ready for war.
“Take your hands off her,” Kyler growls.
My father laughs, his fingers trailing down to my wrist until he cups my hand. “I’m allowed to touch my own daughter, you know. She’s my blood.”
Reign steps forward, his eyes narrowed as he reaches for my dad’s wrist. The balls of him in public, touching the governor. It fills me with heat, and I gasp as he grabs my dad’s hand, removing his fingers from me. He takes my hand in his, pulling me to him, and I sink into his side. “If she steps away from you, it’s in your best interest to let her go,” he says quietly, his tone lethal.
“I think the last person I need to listen to is a murderer.” My dad’s voice is taunting, and Reign’s lips flatten into a severe line. I narrow my eyes at him in confusion. “Yeah.” My dad chuckles. “I know exactly the type of man you are. You belong in prison. Well, you deserve to have rotted in prison instead of your small stint.”
I clench my hands into fists, staring at Reign.
He went to prison?
My father glances around, and I see George standing not far away, my mother next to him. She watches me with worried eyes, a hint of apprehension in her features.
She thinks I killed my best friend.
I shake my head at her, narrowing my eyes as I turn to the guys. “I want to leave. Can you take me home?”
Archer wraps his arms around me, hauling me against his side. “Of course, baby. Let’s get out of here.” He sneers at my father, pulling me away from him. “Say goodbye to your father.”
Shaking my head, I lean my head against his chest. “I don’t want to,” I mumble, not even looking back at him. I can’t. I’m too disappointed in him.
