Protecting Her(75)

“I went to Moorhurst. It’s in Connecticut.”

“Yes. I know where it is. What was your major?”

“English.”

“Why did you choose English?”

“I had to pick something. It’s not like it matters what I picked. I’ll never use the degree. I’ll never have a job.”

“You could still use your degree.”

“You don’t use yours.” She smirks. “You’re just a housewife. You didn’t need a degree for that.”

Up until now, I thought Katherine might be maturing. She was being almost pleasant until her rude comment.

“I’m still glad that I have the degree,” I say. “And someday I might use it.”

“You won’t. Pearce doesn’t want his wife working.”

Another rude comment. And she says it as if she knows him well enough for the comment to be true, which it’s not.

“Katherine, I should go find Pearce.”

“Are you going anywhere for the holidays?”

Damn. I was hoping to get away from her. “No. We don’t have any plans.”

“We do. Father is taking the family to Grand Cayman for Thanksgiving. And Paris for Christmas.”

“That sounds nice. I’m sure you’ll have fun.” I turn to leave but she keeps talking.

“We’re taking the private jet. Have you ever been on a private jet?”

“Yes, I—” I stop myself before I say it. I almost told her I was on the Sinclair jet, but that’s a secret. Pearce and I took Royce’s jet to Las Vegas when we eloped, but Katherine can’t know that. “Actually, no, I haven’t been on a private jet.”

“Why not? Pearce’s family has a jet. Why wouldn’t you use it?”

“I’m not comfortable on small planes. I think they’re dangerous.”

“My father’s company makes airplane engines, and he said private jets are safer than big planes.”

“Well, I’d still rather be on a regular plane. I need to find Pearce. It was nice seeing you, Katherine.” It’s such a lie. I didn’t like seeing her. Or talking to her. There’s something not right with that girl. She’s strange, almost eerie. I think it’s the expressions she makes. She always has this half-smile on her face like she knows a secret and is reveling in the fact that other people aren’t aware of that secret.

I walk away, searching the room for Pearce. I don’t see him anywhere. He always does this at parties. He disappears and I can’t find him. I wish he wouldn’t do that. I already feel out of place at these parties and it’s even worse when I’m surrounded by people I know don’t like me. It’s always the same people at these parties, and even after all these years, some of them still don’t approve of me.

“Rachel!” It’s Martha, waving at me from across the room.

I smile and head over there. I don’t want her to move away. I’m really going to miss her.





CHAPTER SEVENTEEN


17


PEARCE

“What’s the real reason you’re moving?” I ask Jack. We went into a room down the hall so we could talk privately.

“Royce,” he says as he shuts the door. “I have to go down there and babysit him.”

“Royce is moving?”

“To an estate in Virginia.”

“When is he moving?”

“I don’t know. Within the year, I suppose. They haven’t decided.”

“This is because of the presidency?”

“Yes. He has to live among his fellow politicians. Be seen with them. Go to their parties. Interact with them.”

“So what are you supposed to do?”

“Keep him in line. As I’ve said many times, Royce is a f*ck-up. You leave him alone for two seconds and he gets himself in trouble. Drugs. Women. Gambling. He’s a menace to both himself and the organization. And yet they still want him as president. Although I admit he is damn good on camera. He looks good. He sounds good. And when it comes down to it, you need someone who can perform well on TV. Someone who can act the part. So as much as I hate to admit it, Royce is perfect for the role. Problem is, he knows it, which is why he thinks he can do whatever he wants and get away with it.”

I feel like I should tell Jack about Royce’s affair and the child that resulted from it. If Jack is going to be looking after Royce, he should know this information. But I promised Royce I wouldn’t say anything. He said if I did, he’d go after the child’s mother, and I can’t risk endangering her or the child. So I decide to keep quiet.