Chapter 2 Cheeks blazing, I force myself to focus on the party. Wanting to put distance between me and the dark-haired man, I plunge into a small cluster of donors near the dessert buffet and begin the schmooze. "Can I tempt you with mint lavender petit fours?" I ask a woman dripping with pearls, my voice honey-sweet. "They cost a third of my car's market value, but don't worry, we got a bulk rate." My giggle is a little too loud and a little too high pitched. She titters. A man nearby launches into a question about my uncle's infrastructure plans. I chatter, schmooze, smile, and reassure. But I still feel that blazing gaze on me. Heat simmering, building. But I don't dare turn his way again. I have little experience with dating or sex. Make that no experience with sex. And I'm already unsettled tonight. It isn't just from the interaction with my uncle. Not that long ago, I would have enjoyed a party like this. I'd circulate through the room to make sure the food and drinks kept coming, while making small talk with the guests. But tonight, it all feels meaningless, and I'm just so freaking tired. The night drags and blazes all at once. Every second is a performance. Names to memorize, smiles to bestow, conversations to juggle like crystal balls that could shatter if I let one slip. I take only shallow breaths as I do my best to dazzle. My uncle must notice that something is off with me, though. He's often at my elbow, hovering in a way he usually doesn't. At one point he cuts me off mid-sentence with a donor and follows up with that soft chuckle that makes his rudeness seem like indulgence. "Well, she does her best." His hand clamps down heavy on my shoulder, a brand reminding me that I belong to Senator Gahr. This is something my uncle and aunt never let me forget. How much I owe the two of them. The senator is my mom's brother, and although she's around, in a very loose sense, my uncle and my aunt raised me. My mom did not follow the family tradition of marrying a promising politician. Instead, she ran away with a wannabe rock star and got pregnant with me. When my dad abandoned her and later died from an overdose, my mom self-medicated with alcohol and drugs to get over her grief. She still does, spending most of her time at expensive rehabilitation clinics. Or when in recovery, at expensive retreats and spas. My mom is a fragile person who needs a lot of care. Expensive care, which my uncle pays for. And so I don't let my fake smile falter, no matter how many veiled insults my uncle throws my way during this event. Inside my head, though, my thoughts are daggers that want to stab him in the eye. Outwardly, my schmoozing stays sharp and perfectly timed. And through it all, I feel it. That gaze. He's constantly there. Steadily watching. I avoid looking his way, but I sense him, like a gravitational pull toward the edge of the room. My uncle must have alerted my aunt that my mood is peculiar this evening. The clink of glasses, fake laughter, and murmur of conversations grow louder in my ears when I see her staring at me from across the room. Her hard brown eyes focused on me, has the opposite effect of the green-eyed stranger's gaze. They chill me to the bone. Aunt Monica glides over in a way that makes the polished marble floor seem like a runway, every inch the senator's wife. Nobody makes me feel as small and insecure as my aunt. Anticipating words that slice with precision, I shudder involuntarily. Her champagne-colored long dress glitters in the light from the chandeliers, the skirt swishing around her shapely legs as she walks toward me. The thin spaghetti straps show off the lithe, toned arms she spends hours in the home gym to maintain. Thanks to fillers and expensive hair-coloring, she looks ten years younger than she probably is. I know she's younger than my uncle, but not by how much. She refuses to give her actual age. My aunt stops just close enough to where only I can hear and tucks a golden blonde strand that dared to escape her updo behind her ear. "Perl," she says, voice smooth but with an edge that grazes my skin like a blade. "We need to talk." I force a smile. If you let her see the effect she has on you, she cuts deeper. "Of course, Aunt Monica. What's on your mind?" She studies me for a moment, sharp eyes missing nothing. And then uses that tone that's all velvet and steel. "I can't help but notice your... defiance tonight. You've been shirking your duties. Starting conversations with the guests instead of waiting for them to speak first. This is not what we've taught you." My defiance shrinks. Those words don't just sting. They brand me, reminding me that I would be nothing without my aunt and uncle. But some small part of me stubbornly refuses to give up all power. I hold my ground, voice almost completely steady. "I'm here, aren't I? Working the room." "No, Perl," she says, voice low, each syllable deliberate. "You're here in body. But your spirit, your respect for the family, it's absent." Anger fills my chest. "Respect goes both ways." She smiles thinly, eyes narrowing. "I don't know what's gotten in to you. But remember who you're speaking to. We're covering your mother's many...health expenses. Thanks to us you have a roof over your head and a chance at a future. In exchange for this generosity we don't ask for much." Only complete obedience and the eradication of my soul and free will. I know I'm being overdramatic, but I can't help it. It's as if the veil has lifted from my eyes and I see only the shackles binding me to my aunt and uncle. My life is one of privilege, I know that, but tonight the cost seems too high. I bite back another sharp retort. Instead, I let the quiet rage simmer just beneath the surface, my smile fixed. "Your duty, Perl," she continues, voice soft but unyielding, "is to be the perfect niece, the polished daughter of the family. You are being groomed for something far beyond tonight's event. You're destined to be the perfect political wife. One who knows her place, who doesn't rock the boat, who understands that family reputation outweighs personal whims." A cold wave crashes through me, and my smile falters. "I'm well aware of what's expected." She leans in just a little, a fake smile on her lips. To the audience in the room, it probably looks like we're exchanging confidences. My aunt likes to say we have a perfect relationship. Publicly, I am the daughter she never had, and we share a warm bond. The reality is anything but, and all I hear is the weight in her words. "Good. Because defiance will get you nowhere. The family has sacrificed for you, and you must honor that with loyalty and grace. Remember who's footing the bills the next time your mom needs care." My jaw tightens. "I'm not your puppet." Her eyes flash. "Watch your tone, Perl. Remember how much we've invested in you. It's not charity. We've given you power and expect to be compensated in return." Bullshit. All the power belongs to them. I am just a pawn. I swallow hard, feeling the trap tighten. "And what if I refuse? What if I want something different?" Aunt Monica straightens, voice like ice cracking. "Foolish child. You don't know what you want." She smiles and nods at a woman in a green sparkly dress who walks by and gives us a little wave. But the words she aims my way are still chilly. "Your duty is to our family and you better show your loyalty. Or doors will close, support disappear, and rumors fly." The weight of the room feels crueler now, suffocating. I want to scream, to break free, but I tuck my rage away, framing my words carefully. "I'm grateful for what you've done. But gratitude doesn't erase who I am." She tilts her head, a predator amused. "Who you are is what we've made you. Don't forget that, Perl. Because in the end, loyalty isn't a suggestion. It's the required payment. And you're deep in debt." The music swells again, punctuating her threat. She steps back, lips a tight line. "Think on that." I swallow hard. Chills race down my spine. How long before the price of 'loyalty' demands everything I have left? Before I can answer, my uncle steps up. "Perl. Monica. I have someone you need to meet." My aunt dons her most charming smile before she turns around to face my uncle and his new friend. The man the senator brought, however, doesn't give her as much as a glance. Over my aunt's shoulder, I see green piercing eyes focused on me, like they have been all night. And just like that, my skin heats, and a flush creeps up my neck to bloom in my cheeks. 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