No Way Back (Mia's Way, #1) (15 page)

I see Dom leaning against the reception desk talking to Wendy as I head towards the front entrance. He catches my eye and straightens. I’m ready to bolt and start past him.

“Mia, wait.” He touches my arm.

I stop and face him, looking up. With Dom’s warm eyes and gravelly voice, I’m beginning to believe Grandpa really is looking out for me from heaven. I shouldn’t feel as comfortable with a stranger as I do with Dom. I don’t even mind that he touched me. Since the rape, I jump every time someone touches me.

“Just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” he says.

Anxious to leave, I can’t help the jaded thoughts in my mind, even about my rescuer. I wonder if he called yesterday and stopped by today to pressure me.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Thank you.”

“You’ve got my number, if you ever want to talk.”

“You mean, if I decide to come forward maybe, given what I’m sure you saw in the news?” I cross my arms.

“You’re welcome,” he says, unfazed.

We stare at each other.

“Yeah, I do want you to come forward, and I’ll keep asking you until you say yes. But, I also want to make sure you’re okay,” he says at last. “Let’s make a deal. I’ll be straight with you, and you drop this defensive shit with me. That tone just really drives me crazy. Deal?” A slow smile crosses his face. He holds out his hand.

I don’t know why my defenses melt around him, but they always do. He can see right through me, and he’s not running for the hills. I’m not sure what to think about that, either. I shake his hand and offer a quiet,

“Deal.”

“Good. Scram, before your dad calls in the National Guard.”

I start to smile but force myself to stop, not wanting to give him anymore access past my defenses than he already has. I walk away.

“Ms. Abbottt-Renou,” he calls when I reach the door. “Tell your driver not to park in front of a fire hydrant next time, or I’ll write him a ticket.” He winks. “And I won’t forget to sign it.”

“You would’ve made a good politician!” I retort.

“Hey now, that’s low!” He throws his arms open like I’ve wounded him.

I leave. This time, I do smile. I ignore the paparazzi as they snap pics of me and hurry to the car, followed by a silent Fabio. I climb into the back seat while he gets in the front. The small thrill I feel at the exchange with Dom is gone by the time I reach home.

I’m ready to make a run for my closet when I notice who’s walking down the hall towards me. My half-brother, Joseph, is dressed casually. He waves for me to wait. The eldest of the three of us, he was out of the house in college by the time I turned five. I barely know him.

“Mia, c’mere,” he says and motions me out of the foyer.

We walk into the formal living area. He sits on one of the designer couches Mom imported from Europe. I sit on the other end and wait for him to give me another of Daddy’s speeches. He and Molly are model children with Shea-crafted images. She’s so good, I was convinced, too, until Mom said what she did about Molly. As I stare at my half-brother, I wonder if perfect, confident, Ken-doll Joseph has secrets.

“How are you, Mia?” Joseph asks.

I shrug. We have the same blond hair and blue eyes, which we inherited from Daddy.

“I’m sorry I didn’t fly in earlier.” Joseph is on a special presidential appointment at the UN. I don’t know what he does, but I remember he’s always been gifted with languages.

“Why would you?” I ask, crossing my arms.

“Because I’m your brother, maybe?” He’s got Molly’s arrogant edge.

I roll my eyes at him.

“I haven’t seen you in so long. I forgot you’re not the little girl you were when I left for college.”

“Well I’m not.”

“Look, Mia, Molly and I have always been very distant from you,” he says, lowering his voice. “You were always the little princess, the spoiled daughter of the woman who replaced our mother. I don’t think either of us ever forgave your mother for that. I also don’t think we ever forgave you for what your mother did.”

“I know you guys hate me,” I say. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“This is what I’m talking about,” he says. “This attitude. You’ve never been interested in the family image or anything outside yourself.”

I get up to leave, furious he flew home from Europe to tell me they hated me.

“But, then this … incident came out in the papers. I think that’s the shock it took for me to take a look at how we treated you. I called Chris, and we talked for a bit.”

“Where are you going with this?” I demand, not sitting but not leaving either.

“I didn’t know about your mother’s alcohol problem. I didn’t know Daddy wrote you off. I had no idea you were so alone.”

“It wasn’t like that for you and Molly?” I ask, puzzled.

“It wasn’t this bad. We lived in Georgia, not DC, so there was a buffer. Our mother wasn’t as interested in the social scene. We never had a normal life, but we had a better one,” he says. “In any case, you’re my sister. It’s time I started acting like your brother.”

“It’s a little late, don’t you think?”

“No, I don’t,” he said, the edge in his voice again. “If I thought that, I wouldn’t have come back at all. I’m late, yes, but I’m here now.”

“Right. Until I do something that embarrasses Daddy or the family.”

“Even if you do something Daddy opposes.”

I look at him. I don’t know him well enough to read him, and he’s got Daddy’s poker face. He can’t know how confused I am or what I’m considering doing, but his words make me think he might.

“We’ll see.”

“Mia, I’m serious. What happened to you is inexcusable. If I knew who did this, I’d do everything I could to help you get him.”

“Them,” I correct him. “There were two.”

“My god, Mia.”

“And I’m the one doing community service.”

Joseph frowns. Exhausted, I leave him and go to my room. I can’t help thinking of the rapport between Dom and Gianna. He’d given her a ride to work when her car broke down. I haven’t seen my half-brother in person in years.

Joseph is more of a stranger to me than Dom. I don’t know if I can trust Joseph or if he’ll turn his back on me the moment I do something Daddy disapproves of. He admitted that he and Molly have always hated me. I don’t know how they can suddenly
not
.

I trust Dom more than my own brother, maybe because I understand Dom’s ulterior motive in talking to me. Or am I making excuses for him betraying me, because he reminds me of my grandfather, the only blood relative who ever treated me decently?

I hate my life.

I stay in my room the rest of the day.

The next morning, I ride alone in the car to meet Molly for brunch. Grudgingly, I have to admit Dr. Thompkins is right. It’s getting easier to go out. I still feel nervous and worried someone will grab me. My phone has become my crutch, and I clench it in my hands. Dr. Thompkins says that’s okay for now.

 Molly is already seated drinking coffee when I arrive. She’s well-dressed, her make-up flawless. Like mom, she’s a natural beauty with perfect features, a slender shape and bright blue eyes. My gaze goes at once to her huge engagement ring. In comparison, I feel like a dirty slob. I’m dressed in jeans, even if they’re expensive ones.

“Nice rock,” I say, sitting.

Her insincere smile tells me she thinks I’m being crass. I didn’t go to the Southern finishing schools she did.

“I’ve ordered for you,” she says, her cultured, heavy Southern accent rolling off her soft voice.

“Thanks.”

“Joseph’s in town.”

“Yeah, I know. How’s the wedding planning going?” I ask.

“Exhausting. I’ve hired three assistants, and it’s still overwhelming.”

“Hmmm.” What do I say to that? Molly’s nails are always perfectly manicured and her hands soft. I doubt she’s doing anything other than ordering people around.

“Is your mother coming back to town soon?” Molly asks.

“Allegedly. We’ll see if she actually shows.”

“Hopefully she does. I could use her advice on European designers.”

I look up from pouring coffee. Molly knows the designers as well as Mom. She spends her summers in Europe.

“Caffeine isn’t a good idea for you right now, sweetie.”

I flush. Molly waves the waiter over and orders me herbal tea. I always feel off around her and Joseph. Neither of us talks until after the tea is brought. Molly pours me a cup. I sip at it and clench the warm cup in my hands to keep from fidgeting. Our food comes out, and I start to eat.

“Your mother helped me out last year. I had a moment of indiscretion, as Daddy would say.”

“But you’re marrying Emmitt. You’ve been together for years,” I point out. “Why not have a shotgun wedding instead of … of what you did?”

“Emmitt was detailed abroad at the time,” Molly replies. “He wasn’t the father.”

I stare at her. Perfect, darling Molly cheated on the son of a former president?

“The father was a college friend,” she says. “Emmitt and I were on the rocks at the time. He cheated on me, and I wanted to show him what it felt like. It was beyond stupid and petty. I didn’t expect to get pregnant.”

“Wow,” I breathe.

“You should know that our public personas are not who we actually are,” Molly chides me.

“Mine is. Shea and Daddy gave me no choice.” The memory of my press conference makes tears come to my eyes. I’m still humiliated by it, by seeing pictures of my battered face and body all over the news and internet.

“You’re also Daddy’s ace-in-the-hole right now. His ratings have sky-rocketed since your pictures hit the newsstands. “

“Great. I’m glad my rape is gonna get him reelected!”

“That’s the game, Mia,” Molly says coolly.

“I hate it!”

“I know. And that’s okay.”

I wipe my eyes and look at her. Her smile is genuine this time, and I see pity in her eyes.

“Not everyone needs – or wants – to play the game. Your mother always sheltered you from it. Daddy lost interest in you when he realized you’re not meant for it. We all knew it when you were young. You know Daddy. If something isn’t going to help him get elected, it’s not worth his time.”

I nod.

“That changed when you were raped. Shea’s brilliant at her job and saw an opportunity. She took it.”

Molly’s cold, calm words make more sense than I’ve ever been able to make out of my world.

“Now that you’re an asset to Daddy, you’re going to find your world grows smaller,” she continues. “I was always jealous of you, Mia.”

“Jealous?” I echo, surprised. “Why?”

“You had everything I did, plus your freedom. You could go to the mall without being hounded by press. You weren’t a puppet to Daddy’s team. You didn’t have to look perfect and say perfect things.”

I’ve never thought of Molly as being trapped in the world she seems to love. I’ve never seen
this
Molly, the one who didn’t act like Daddy’s pet. I never knew she had her own thoughts.

“I thought you were happy,” I say, confused.

“I am. It took me a long time to realize it is a game and how to play it. I’ve learned how to create an oasis away from the spotlight. Much like your mother, I love being a public figure. But watching her taught me I needed to balance the public figure with the other side without resorting to alcohol.”

“So are you marrying Emmitt because you love him, or because Daddy wants you to?” I ask the question I’ve wanted to know the answer to for awhile.

“It’s what’s expected of someone in my position. What Emmitt and I both know is that our public images require sacrifice and work. When he proposed, we agreed that we both intend to remain public figures, whose emotions will come second to our service.”

“But you must love him, or you wouldn’t have slept with someone else to get even.”

“We care for each other, Mia, but neither of us believes in true love or soul mates or anything like that,” she says mockingly. “I let my emotions get in the way, and it almost cost me my future. What I learned from that experience was that I do value my future with Emmitt. We’ve been together for years, and we come from good families. There aren’t any skeletons in the closet. Our marriage is a safe bet that won’t embarrass either family. It’s more of a business deal.”

Maybe I should be disgusted that she’s admitting to marrying for reasons other than love. But I feel sorry for her instead. I’m not sure why. There’s no remorse or regret on her face.

“I guess we are different,” I say. I was too enthralled in her story to feel my usual unease and confusion. They’re starting to return now.

“We are.”

I wait for her to say more. She sips her coffee and nibbles on a croissant.

“Is that why you wanted to meet me? To tell me we’re not alike?” I ask.

“Partially. I think, when you turn eighteen, you need to get out of this mess.”

“I plan on it after I graduate,” I reply.

“No. When you’re eighteen. You’ll be legally able to do what you want.”

“But that’s in a few weeks.”

“Go to Europe to finish school. Overseas, an abortion wouldn’t make the news.”

Suddenly I understand. “Mom said she’d help me.”

“The risk of having one stateside is that the press finds out. Then Daddy finds out. Then, you get kicked out of the family,” Molly explains. “That kind of press will follow you wherever you go.”