Page 50 of Sinful Palace

11

Willow

“Areyou sure this is a good idea, Jamie?”

I stared at my mother’s Chief of Staff with wide eyes as he ran a lint roller over my thick cream-colored coat. Across the room, my father was helping Jared with his blue and red tie, and my mother was pacing around with an aide, practicing her upcoming speech.

Jamie smiled gently. “It’ll be fine. You don’t need to worry.”

“So I’m the only one who thinks this whole thing could go horribly wrong?” I said, tilting my head to the side.

It seemed like the whole world had gone insane. With all of the Rutherford-related accusations being thrown around lately, my mother’s administration had decided the perfect response was to put on an elaborate presidential parade between the Capitol building and the Ellipse.

The event was being staged under the guise of festive celebrations, seeing as Christmas was fast approaching, but the truth was that it was a political rally to bolster support for my mother. She wanted to prove to the world that she still had lots of loyal fans and friends, despite all the recent media mud-flinging and looming threats of Justice Department investigations, and so her minions had done everything they could to ensure that today’s crowds were bigger than the ones at any other rally she’d held so far.

I thought the whole concept was outrageous, and I couldn’t believe my mother was actually making us go through with it. She had millions of angry detractors these days, so it seemed like an obviously-terrible idea to make our family stand on a slow-moving parade float while we smiled and waved all the way down Pennsylvania Avenue.

To put it bluntly, it seemed like she was asking for an assassination attempt.

“Are you being dramatic again, Willow?”

I turned my head to see Mom stepping over to me and Jamie, holding out an American flag pin in one palm.

I shook my head. “I’m just worried something bad is going to happen.”

She gave me a withering look as she affixed the pin to my coat. “Don’t be so morbid,” she said. “This event is necessary for the sake of the country. You need to buck up.”

“It’s just a parade and a Christmas tree lighting ceremony in the Ellipse,” I said, brows puckering. “Do you really want to risk getting shot over that?”

Mom rolled her eyes. “This is exactly what I mean about all the drama,” she said. “You’re being completely ridiculous. Nothing is going to happen, and no one is going to shoot me.” She snatched the lint roller from Jamie and finished off the left side of my coat. “Besides, I’m wearing a bulletproof vest under my jacket just in case.”

“So you are worried someone might try to kill you,” I said, arching a brow. I didn’t even broach the obvious problem of a bulletproof vest doing absolutely nothing to stop a headshot.

“It’s just a security measure every president has to take at events like this,” she replied, tone turning frosty again. “You almost sound as if you want something to happen.”

I shook my head. “I’m just worried.”

“Well, as I said, there’s no need for concern. Did you know my approval ratings have actually started going up again since last week?” she said, lifting her brows. “More and more people are starting to realize this whole Rutherford thing is just a witch hunt.”

“That’s good,” I said softly.

“Yes, it is. No thanks to you, I might add,” she said. “Now, please try to stay out of trouble this afternoon. You’ve already caused enough drama for ten lifetimes.”

“You know I didn’t mean to.”

“I don’t care.” She narrowed her eyes and adjusted the pin on my lapel. “When you get out there, smile and wave, and don’t say a word to anyone who isn’t on the approved list once we get to the Ellipse.”

“Okay, Mom.”

She stalked away, and Jamie flashed a rueful smile at me. “Sorry. She’s been very stressed lately.”

“No shit. Half the country wants her in prison,” I said. “She blames me for that.”

He squeezed my arm. “She shouldn’t. It’s my fault and her fault. If we didn’t have that stupid conversation on the night Rutherford died, no one would suspect us now.”

“He didn’t just die, though. He wasmurdered. So I guess we can’t really blame people for wondering.”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s a horrible coincidence. But don’t worry, we’ll be vindicated soon. They’ll find the real killer.”

---