Take a Chance on Me(103)

“That’s enough. I’m still your father.”

Something tightened in her chest. Was he? He didn’t feel like it. She straightened her shoulders and modulated her tone to neutral. “All I’m saying is that I’m not sure it’s necessary.”

“Trust me, it’s necessary.”

She laughed, a hard, brittle sound. “Trust you? You almost ruined your career.”

“But I didn’t,” he said, his voice cold as ice. “I’m doing what I need to do, and if you want to win, I suggest you do the same.”

She fought it—the pull that longed for his approval—but the habit was too old and her anger too new. She took a deep breath. “I understand.”

Sometimes it was best to concede the battle to win the war. Or at least that was the political spin she sold herself today.

“Good. Remember the plan.”

Ah yes, the plan. She ate, slept, and lived the plan.

Revival. Eight miles.

Two weeks with Shane. Two weeks with his sharp, disapproving gaze. Two weeks of playing the ice queen he expected, pretending he had no effect on her.

She was exhausted just thinking about it. “I remember.”

“And on that note,” Nathaniel said, his voice rich and pleased.

Her stomach dropped with dread.

“I spoke with Miles and Paul this morning, and we decided right after the wedding we’ll announce you’re running for office.”

She frowned. “What do you mean, right after?”

“At the reception. We’d call in a few reporters to cover the wedding. You could let it slip and have a press conference the next day.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Was nothing sacred to him? “It’s Mitch’s day. Let him have it.”

“The timing—”

She cut him off. “No. This is my campaign, and I’m putting my foot down.”

She might not be close to Mitch, or have the slightest clue what to say to him, but she respected what he’d done and how he’d turned his life around after the senator had gone and f*cked it all up. She wasn’t about to ruin his wedding to gain a few points in the polls.

“Cecilia, let’s be frank. You’re a long shot.”

Yes, the factors working against her were endless, but she was sick of him pretending he wasn’t part of the problem. Venom filled her tone as she spit out, “Thanks to you and that little intern I told you not to hire.”

He scoffed. “That’s easy for you to believe, but we both know your image needs work.”

Nausea roiled in her belly. “I didn’t get blackmailed. You did.”

“The voters forgave me. After all, I didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Ha! You didn’t get caught, there’s a difference.”

“Perception is reality, my dear. You know that better than anyone.”

What did he mean by that? He sounded smug, as though he knew something she didn’t. “I’ll build my own perception.”

A long, put-upon sigh. “You can’t connect. You’re logical and pragmatic, which can be a benefit, but it doesn’t win votes. People don’t love you. You don’t inspire them to act, or empower them to believe that government is within their grasp. You have no voice. No vision.”

The truth. It was like a stab to the heart, but she refused, absolutely refused, to give in to the tears that pricked the corners of her eyes. She did not cry. Ever. Instead, she steeled her spine and said sweetly, “Awww, you always give the best pep talks.”


Never show weakness. Never break.

“It’s up to me to tell you the truth.”

A cocktail of riotous emotions threatened to bubble to the surface, but she pushed them back down. “I will not let you ruin Mitch’s wedding so you can play father of the year in front of a few reporters.” Her training had served her well because there wasn’t even a hint of a quaver in her voice. Her hurt was hidden down deep where it belonged.

And since he was so keen on truth, she’d dole out some of her own. “As your advisor, let me return the favor. If you want a chance in hell at winning your wife back before the next election, you’d better stop using your son to gain points in the opinion polls. You’re losing her. She’s starting to loathe you. Maybe that’s why you had sex with an intern younger than your daughter?”

“Watch your mouth.” His voice was filled with outrage. Unlike her, he’d never been a pro at hiding anything unless he had an audience. “I did not sleep with that woman.”

She laughed, the sound filled with rough, bitter edges. “Do you think I’m an idiot? You think I didn’t see how you fawned over her? How you preened at her ego stroking?”

Fifteen seconds must have ticked by before he spoke. “Have you told your mother this?”

She scoffed, shaking her head. This was so like him. All he cared about was covering his ass. Another mile marker sign flew by. “Good-bye, father.”

He hung up without a word.

She exhaled a slow, steady breath.

Well, that was ugly.

She’d held her own and scored her point, but the victory was hollow.

Revival. Next exit.

She slowed to fifty-five and changed into the right lane. She had to block out this noise—her family crisis, Shane Donovan, the wedding—everything and concentrate on what was important.