Page 120 of Royal Bargain
Miranda hums, unbothered. “That sounds about right.”
I blink. “You think that’s okay?”
“I think it’s business,” she replies smoothly. “Ingrid’s… intense. But she gets results. She doesn’t like being told no. Most people in her position don’t.”
“I’m not saying no to be difficult,” I protest. “I have a life. A baby. Sometimes I just need to say no, but she doesn’t care. She threatens my entire career over one missed gig.”
“And you think she’s the only one who will?” Miranda says mildly. “Annika, this is the industry. No one coddles talent anymore. They expect you to perform, to be hungry. If you want to succeed, you have to show up even when it’s inconvenient.”
Something in my chest twists.
“I just… I thought this was supposed to be a fresh start,” I say quietly. “I thought this was supposed to be mine. But it feels like everyone still wants to pull the strings.”
There’s a pause.
Then Miranda says, “You still have more control than you think.”
I’m not sure if it’s meant to be comforting or a warning.
I clear my throat. “Right. Well… I gave you that Harborview intel. That deal helped Burns secure the vote, didn’t it?”
Miranda’s voice doesn’t change at all. “It didn’t hurt.”
“So why am I still being tested?” I ask, frustration bubbling up in my throat. “Why does Ingrid act like I have something to prove?”
“Because you do,” she replies simply. “You’re not just a Volkov trying to be a singer. You’re you. That means people are going to push you harder to see what you’re really made of. Harborview was a good step. But if you want this life, you have to take the next one. That’s how the game is played.”
Something about the way she says it sends a chill skittering down my spine.
I shift my weight, glancing at Lily, who’s now gnawing peacefully on her stuffed bunny. My fingers tighten around the phone.
“You seem very invested in all this,” I say slowly. “In Burns. In me. In Ingrid. Why?”
A pause.
Then, smooth as ever, Miranda says, “I like to see the right people win.”
But there’s something underneath it—something cold and calculated that sets my teeth on edge.
Why does she care so much about Burns?
Why push me to help him, then turn around and act like it’s just business?
What does she get out of this?
Before I can press her further, she adds, “I’ll talk to Ingrid.”
Relief flickers in my chest, but she keeps talking.
“Still… I’d be more concerned about Anatoly’s release if I were you. Things are probably already in motion.”
My breath catches.
“What—”
Click.
The call ends.
