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“And how does donating to Ezra Wright’s campaign help?”
I leaned slightly back in my chair feeling triumphant and slightly nauseous. “It won’t,” I said. “But you are going to do it because I’m going to give you a way to ensure my father keeps you by his side.”
“And what’s that?”
“You are going to tell him I’m alive.”
There was a long pause, and for a moment, I wondered if Rome had heard me. His face was frozen as he processed my words. “According to you, my father is embattled with grief over my death. Imagine his surprise when you tell him that he happened upon me.”
“I thought that you wanted to stay away from him.”
I took a deep, steadying breath as I tried to hold onto the confidence that was starting to fail me. “Ezra needs this money, and he needs you to convince your friends to donate too.”
Rome’s face appeared to sour, as though I’d shoved a whole lemon in his mouth, and I did my best not to smirk. Times like these made me realize why men like my father were the way they are. Having power felt good. It was heady and intoxicating, almost like sex.
“Fine,” Rome said.
I did my best not to jump out of my seat in happiness. Ezra would get what he needed. I’d made sure of it.
“Don’t look so pleased with yourself. There’s something I want from you.”
I raised a brow. “Is this about your son? Ezra’s already sent the letter off.” It hadn’t been too hard to convince him. He’d actually liked the kid.
Rome shook his head. “I want you to meet with your father today.”
I gulped. “Today?”
Rome nodded and reached for the phone on his desk. “If you want that donation, you’ll do it.”
I felt my insides clenching as I thought about coming face to face with my father. I’d been up all-night thinking about what I would say or do when I finally came face to face with the man, I blamed for all the pain in my life. “Why today?” I asked.
“Because I don’t want you running off, and from the look on your face, you might do just that.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
I smiled as I caught sight of Annie’s blazer being thrown across the back of my couch. Ever since we slept together, we’d become closer than ever. She was still struggling to open up to me, but I’d started to work on getting her to trust me.
“You look awfully pleased for someone whose campaign is floundering.”
I sighed as Marcel drew my attention. He’d come over to discuss my campaign, which wasn’t going well.
“How bad is it?” I asked, trying to give my friend my attention. The problem was that my house had become filled with Annie, and I found that when we weren’t together, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. She’d somehow become an integral part of my life.
“It’s bad,” he said. “We’ve already used the little bit of money you put up for ads. O’Connor is killing you with TV space and billboards.”
I snorted. “Who watches TV anymore?” I was being flippant, but I was worried.
And from the look on his face, so was Marcel. “You shouldn’t joke. Your numbers are terrible. We can’t get your face out there.”
“Which is a shame considering that I was splashed all over page six for the past six months.”
It was almost ironic that now no one was talking about me, since before I was all anyone could talk about.
Marcel sighed, and I knew he was thinking the same thing. “You know I hate to be wrong, but Annie is proving to be more of a liability than a help.”
I immediately stiffened, and Marcel raised his hands in surrender. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but you know that I’m right.”
“You are the one who insisted that I find a girlfriend. Now that I have, you are pissed?”
