Page 26 of Cruel Dominion

Mom and Dad sat at the head and foot of the table. Her in white linen. Him in his usual black suit. Like a pair of decorative salt and pepper shakers.

Across from me, Steve Draven took a long swallow from his glass of Malbec.

“So, how was your time in Africa?” he asked casually.

I put my fork down on my plate and dabbed the sides of my mouth with my napkin before peering over at him.

“Life-changing,” I replied obsequiously, feeling the frost of my father’s gaze on me from the seat at the head of the table. I quickly added more detail to my answer. “I’m so glad that I got to see more of the world, but I’m grateful to be home again.”

“Hudson, you’re very involved in charity, aren’t you?” Steve asked. He was a state senator, and I doubted Dad had paid him much attention before. He probably only chose him because he was single, under forty, and attractive enough to look good cheering Dad on from behind a presidential podium.

The poor guy didn’t seem to realize that his job here was to seduce me, not suck up to the governor.

Dad cocked his head toward Mom. “Michelle takes the lead on charity work in the family.”

“Yes, you’re probably too busy with work, Hudson,” Steve replied. “I know getting the state budget approved was a nightmare.”

Nobody saw me roll my eyes. If there was one thing that got Dad talking, it was budget cuts and whether or not he personally approved of them.

My mother was silently eating her swordfish steak, laughing and gesticulating at the appropriate times to cast my father and me in the most flattering light. His perfect performer.

It made me sick to think that I could be her in just a few years.

…if I let this happen.

Sorry, Rosie. I agreed to dress up, but that was where my promises ended.

I put my fork down and interrupted.

“You know, Steve, there’s something you should know about Malawi.”

“Anna,” my father warned, but I could already feel it. The manic urge to scream rose in my throat. Or maybe that was just bile. And I was doing so well, too.

Doing everything just right, like I was taught.

There was only one problem, the Anna Vaughn that left this house six years ago and the one sitting here now, were not the same person anymore.

I couldn’t do this.

Even if it meant kissing the security I desperately needed right now goodbye.

If he wanted me to dress a certain way and say certain things while I lived under his roof, then I could do that. I could play the part of the daughter of a future president at parties, when he had company, when I got my Starbucks in town. But I wasn’t going to shape the rest of my life in his image. I’d rather choke to death on this stupidly delicious swordfish right here and now.

My pulse raced and my fingertips tingled. I folded them on the table in front of my plate and gave Steve my best smile.

“I never went, actually,” I said sweetly. “That’s just what we’re telling people, for obvious reasons. The truth is, after high school, I became a waitress at what is essentially a high-end titty bar, had a string of bad boyfriends, then came back.”

The sound of my mother’s knife clanging against her plate rang through the silence. I looked up. My father cleared his throat, choking out an awkward laugh.

“So…you weren’t building sustainable housing,” Steve said, his words full of jest, like he was on my side and was as desperate as my parents were for me to say ‘just kidding.’

“I’m afraid not. Didn’t so much as pick up a hammer. I can’t take credit for something I never did. If anything, I lost the last six years to bad decisions, and I’ll never get them back. If you and I are going to get engaged, you should probably know all the details.”

“Engaged?” Steven echoed. He sounded like he’d just swallowed a fly.

“That’s why you were invited,” I explained, while Dad’s face got redder and redder. “Dad doesn’t intend to do anything to help your political career. Not if you don’t put a ring on it. But I’m guessing a smart guy like you realizes that I’m as much a liability as I am an asset.”

I pushed my seat back and stood.

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