Page 103 of Sinful Palace

Jamie let out a short, frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry, Willow, but I don’t know how I can help you with that. I’m not a member.”

“I just want to know what you know,” I said, pulse racing. “I want to know exactly what you heard that stopped you from wanting to join them. Any piece of information could be helpful, even if it’s small.”

He took a step back. “It sounds like you’re trying to investigate them.”

I nodded. “I want to know the truth.”

“Willow, you can’t do that,” Jamie said, holding up a hand. “You can’t start looking into the Order. It’s too dangerous.”

“Too late.”

His jaw clenched. “Christ,” he muttered. “What have you managed to fi—”

He stopped abruptly as the door opened. Lauren poked her head around it. “There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere,” she said, voice tinged with annoyance. “Your mom got off the phone earlier than expected, so she can see you for a few minutes before her next meeting.”

“Okay. Just give me a second, please,” I said, face flushing with warmth. “I was asking Jamie for, uh… Christmas gift ideas.”

As Lauren waited in the doorway, impatiently tapping a stiletto on the marble tiles, Jamie moved his mouth close to my right ear. “Your mom is having a party in a few days,” he murmured. “If she hasn’t already invited you, I’ll get you an invitation. We can talk more then.”

Before I could reply, he strode past Lauren and out of the office.

Lauren raised an eyebrow in a way that made it obvious she thought I’d been flirting with Jamie. I didn’t bother correcting her. It was far better for me to have rumors flying around about possible affairs with older men than for the Order to hear a single whisper about me looking into them.

We walked down the hall, toward the Oval Office, and she let me in with a curt nod. Mom was sitting at her desk in front of the three mullioned south-facing windows, rubbing her temples as she stared down at some papers.

When she heard the door close behind me, she glanced up. “Oh, there you are. Take a seat.”

I did as she said, folding my hands in my lap. Mom removed her glasses and leaned back with a tired sigh. “You’ll have to make this quick. I’ve only got five minutes before my next meeting.”

I frowned. “I need more than five minutes with you. It’s important.”

Her forehead creased. “Willow, I’m the president,” she said sharply. “I can’t just drop everything for anyone who shows up outside my office. You’re lucky I made any time for you at all.”

My eyes widened. “I’m lucky my mother deigned to give me five minutes?”

She let out an anguished sigh. “Don’t be so dramatic. I’m just saying, I’m extremely busy,” she said. She glanced at her watch. “Now, please tell me what you came here to talk about before we run out of time. We’re down to four minutes.”

I stood up and crossed my arms. “Mom, seriously! Are you kidding?”

“About what?” she asked, looking bored.

“In case you forgot, Dad died six days ago. Six.”

“I didn’t forget.”

“Well, you’ve barely said a word to me about any of it, even though I’m your daughter. In fact, you’ve barely spoken to me in months, and you always act like you can’t stand the sight of me,” I said, cheeks flushing with heat. “On top of that, it’s nearly Christmas and I can’t even spend it with my brother, because if I see him I’ll probably break down and tell him Dad died, and then you’ll hate me even more for ruining your whole plan to wait until after Christmas to tell him. Which I still disagree with, by the way. Not that you’d know, because apparently you don’t listen to me or care about anything I say.”

“Willow, please…”

I ignored her and kept going, eyes narrowed. “I don’t understand how you can be so cold. You didn’t shed a single tear at Dad’s funeral, and now you’re back at work less than a day later, chattering away with Prime Ministers and attending cabinet meetings like nothing even happened. Do you even care that he died? Do you care about me or Jared? Do you care about anything at all apart from your job?”

“Willow, stop.” Mom waved a hand at me, motioning for me to sit down again.

I sank into the soft chair, averting my eyes from her gaze.

“You’re right,” she muttered, clasping her hands in front of her.

My eyes shot up. “What?” I said, certain I’d misheard.

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