Ruthless Empire (Royal Elite 6)

But like Silver, I care about Mum too much to kill her chance at happiness. She was brought up in a closed-off environment by her strict father before she was shipped off to an abusive husband that she spent years recovering from the remnants of his degradation.

Since Sebastian came into her life, she doesn’t need the pills to sleep or to eat. She doesn’t walk around the house like a ghost, or kiss me like a robot who feels nothing because of antidepressants.

Mum deserves this.

But that doesn’t mean I’ll do as Silver demands and walk away from her. It doesn’t mean I’ll let her slip away from between my fingers and go to some other fucker while I watch like a pussy.

She’s currently sitting across from me around the conference table in Sebastian’s office as the head of his PR, Frederic, goes through the family part of the campaign.

She chose the farthest seat from me, snuggling to her father’s side and glaring at me every chance she gets.

I smile back, riling her up even more. After the shower, she changed into denim shorts and a black tank top that moulds to her curves. Her hair is pulled into a tight ponytail, reminding me of how I grabbed her by it while I pounded into her over and over again.

I force myself to focus on Frederic, the leader of the campaign, to prevent getting fucking hard in front of Mum and Sebastian.

Frederic is a short man with a beer belly and piercing brown eyes. He has a look that sees through things and a quick wit that fits a politician’s right-hand.

When he asks for suggestions, Silver suggests posting pictures on social media, like the one she made us all take over dinner earlier.

The caption was: Family dinner #SebastianQueensForTheWin #GoTories

The selfie looks spontaneous. Frederic and his people are wearing their half-dishevelled clothes — mostly no jackets or ties. Mum, Silver, Sebastian, and I are in house clothes. The casual quality of it has gained a lot of attention on social media. Instantly, many online magazines picked it up with headlines like:

‘Sebastian Queens’ Daughter Calls Her Father’s Team a Family.’

Silver might seem spontaneous, but she’s taking a lot after her parents. Her upbringing has made her plot even the most casual moments.

That’s why she gets irritated when things don’t go as planned — such as Aiden’s recent obsession with Elsa.

Or me.

The fact she can’t plan me pisses her the fuck off. As it happens, I live to see that expression on her face.

“Posting too much on social media can be interpreted as attention-seeking,” I say.

The light blue of her eyes snaps my way. “People want to know about the lives of those they’re entrusting with their vote. If we show that Papa lives normally like them, it’ll give him a good push.”

“But he’s not like them.” I raise a brow. “He will rule over them, and if that’s not in their conscious mind, it’s buried in their subconscious.”

“So what do you suggest?” She fists her hand by her side. “That he stays away?”

“He should be close, but not close enough that they know about every detail of his life.”

“But…”

“Cole is right,” Frederic interrupts. “The sense of mystery is what keeps people coming back for more — even subconsciously. You can post as usual, Silver. Your Instagram statistics are doing very well.”

She purses her lips, cutting me a glare as Mum tells her she loves her Instagram account.

That may be the case, but the fact she didn’t win against me, even in opinions, is turning her cheeks a faint hue of red.

That’s exactly the reason why I keep doing it. I’m the only one who gets to wrench that reaction out of her.

She retrieves her phone, seeming to check a message. Her lips part. The reaction is so small, it can be interpreted in different ways.

Silver’s lips part when she’s surprised, aroused, or scared. The first two are out of the way because her fist is still clenched.

Is she scared? Of what? Or whom?