Chapter One
“I can’t believe you did this.”
Blake Hewitt stared at her hands clutched in her lap, the sound of her father’s angry voice making her throat close. She refused to look up, didn’t want to see the disappointment written all over his face.
She’d seen enough of that to last a lifetime.
“Why did you do it, Blake? You know how delicate circumstances are. The election’s in a couple of weeks and we’ve been struggling. Then you go and do this.”
The loud slap of the magazine hitting the center of his desk sounded and Blake jumped in her seat. Gritting her teeth, her lids lifted, allowing her gaze to focus on the tabloid magazine facing her.
With a candid shot of her on the cover in a most provocative pose. The headline screamed, “Blake Hewitt Revealed!”
She looked away. It hurt too much to remember that night. A night that had been all in good fun with the few close friends she had.
Her friend Shannon invited her over for a barbecue and swimming. Not necessarily unusual in D.C. when the city was in the throes of an Indian summer. She had a few drinks, become a little loose. Stripped down to her American flag bikini—the swimsuit chosen since it was just so ironic, she couldn’t resist—she’d been hot and wanted to jump in the pool. Hey, she was amongst friends, so why not?
But she hadn’t been amongst friends. The photo on the cover of the popular trashy magazine more than proved that. And the two-page spread filled with various photos within the tabloid confirmed it.
She could trust no one.
Blake frowned, sadness filling her. She hoped whoever sold the pictures was well compensated. She hoped the money they made had been worth it.
“Where in the world were you anyway?” her father demanded.
“It was a party at Shannon’s house. You remember Shannon, don’t you?” Shannon’s father had been a diplomat and they’d known each other since they were teens. “It was a small gathering, just a few friends.”
“People you didn’t know were there.”
“And people I did know. I thought…” Blake paused, swallowed hard. “I thought I could trust them.” She winced when she heard her father’s disbelieving grunt.
“Please. Haven’t I told you before you can’t trust anyone? The campaign’s winding down and we’re being scrutinized like bugs under a microscope.” Her father grunted with disgust. “I swear, it’s like you did this on purpose. Mocking our country with the stripes of the American flag draped across your...posterior, stars placed directly over your...God.”
Flinching, she finally looked up at her father, watched as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He was exhausted. The election campaign was taking a toll on his health and mental state. She wished she could comfort him, give him a hug and whisper she was sorry.
But he would just push her away like he always did. He wouldn’t believe her. In his eyes, she always screwed up. Always made a mess of things, and this latest endeavor was no exception.
He still hadn’t forgiven her when she graduated from college with a degree in political science and instead chose to work in a museum. She’d earned that degree only to make him happy, obtaining her minor in art history to please herself.
She was working on her father’s campaign because he asked her, trying yet again to please him. How she hated being in the public eye. The attention, the photographers, all of it made her agitated, withdrawn. Many believed she was a snob.
At least the media wouldn’t call her the ice queen any longer. Now she was the new party girl.
She didn’t know which moniker was worse.
“The president called a meeting with the immediate staff. We’re creating a plan of attack—all because of this cover.” James Hewitt stabbed the magazine with his finger. “I can only hope we’ll be able to salvage the last few weeks of the campaign. We’re going to have to work extra hard now.”
Despair filled her. The president had become involved? The very last person she wanted to offend. “I didn’t know this was going to happen. It was just an innocent moment, some fun by the pool with friends,” she said, feeling stupid. “I’m sorry.”
Her father glared but didn’t say a word, ignoring her apology completely.
Disappointment flooded her. No matter what she said or did, she could never please him.
“You’ve gone too far, Blake,” her father finally said, his voice low as he watched her, his expression stony.
“They must’ve used a camera phone. I never noticed anyone taking pictures.” She glanced at the offending photo. The quality wasn’t that great. The angle was awkward and slightly out of focus. “Why would anyone sell pictures of me anyway?”
Okay, she knew why. Easy money, plain and simple. A seemingly innocent, fun evening had turned into a huge deal. A giant mistake.
One she could never repeat again.
“Honey, everyone cares about what you do these days. You’r
e young, single, pretty and in the public eye constantly. They make pointless reality stars into the next biggest thing, so why can’t they do the same to you?”
Her father had a valid point. One she didn’t like to face.
“Just send me away,” she said, her voice soft, pleading. “I’ve done more harm than good, and I’m sorry. I know you don’t want me here.” It hurt to admit that, but she spoke the truth. He didn’t want her around, not really. When was she going to get it through her thick skull?
Her father didn’t care about her. He was obsessed with his campaign, his career, his public appearance. Garnering his attention resulted in his disapproval, no matter what she did.
“And where the hell was Russell?” her father asked, startling her from her thoughts. “Why didn’t he stop you from making a mockery of yourself?”
She couldn’t help the warmth that suffused her at the mention of Mason Russell’s name, despite her father’s insulting tone. She barely contained the shiver that stole over her.