The Revealed (6 page)

There’s his punch line.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell him tensely. “I don’t think you have your facts straight.”

He continues with his devious grin, “No? But I
do
have pictures.”

This is a new low. My heartbeat quickens at the thought of my picture—probably standing by the door of the car and staring defiantly at Jeremy—splashed across the home page of every major Internet site. My father will be horrified and my mother … oh God, my mother will kill me!

I have to get away from him. “Are you trying to blackmail me? I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

I turn from Westerfield, but he grabs my upper arm. “Do not underestimate what I am capable of Ms. Atwood.” His words slither across my cheek. “I am intent on winning this election.” A camera flashes. “And I think that you are the catalyst to get me there.” He drops his hand and holds up his drink. The ice clanks against the glass. “Cheers, to Daddy’s Little Girl.”

I am frozen, watching as Westerfield slurps down his drink with such smug satisfaction. I raise my hand, wanting to knock the glass from his mouth. I want to tear that smug expression from his face, prove to him that he can’t hurt me.

“That’s enough.” A hand wraps firmly around my arm and leads me to the middle of the dance floor. I yank my arms away from whatever security has been sent to collect me. Clearly, Jeremy’s decided it’s time to intervene.

“Take my hand.”

Another camera flash snaps me back to reality.

I look at the person I’m now dancing with for the first time. He’s wearing a military outfit, decorated with a splendor of pins and medals, some to show his rank, others recognize his achievements and awards. He doesn’t even pause as he begins gliding across the floor with me. It’s the sharp cut of his features that takes me off guard. The childish lines have faded, replaced by striking cheekbones and a firm jaw. But his dark hair falls across his forehead in that way it has since we were children, and that mischievous look in his green-gold eyes still spells trouble.

“Kai!” I try to pull away, but he holds my hand tighter, keeping our steps perfectly in time. “Why are you doing this?” I keep my voice low through clenched teeth, even though I want to scream at him.

Another flash.

We’re in the middle of the dance floor. There is no way I can hide my face from photographers.

Kai holds my hand tightly. “Relax.”

“Relax? You and your father are trying to ruin everything!”

Kai Westerfield is trouble. The kind of trouble I’ve always tried to avoid. I haven’t said a word to him since we were children. The last time I was near him, it was the day I was hiding under the bleachers, and he was telling his best friend what an ugly snob I was. I’m not the least bit interested in the way he goes through women or his affinity for partying. I know it, even if the rest of the country wants to paint him as the military hero. He’s just like his father.

“Lily,” he snaps, “if I wanted to ruin you, I would have left you with my father.”

“Oh, like this is any better!”

“The press is much more interested in you and me dancing than in my father having a five-second discussion with you. If I’ve learned anything, it’s that paparazzi aren’t hard to please. Better pictures of you and me on the cover than you and my father.”

“What about the other pictures your father has?”

“I’ll take care of it,” he says.

“You’ll take care of it?” my voice rises skeptically.

He purses his lips, amused, like he’s watching a two-year-old throw a tantrum and knows that intervening is not worth the energy. “Yes. And your father should be able to as well. He’s the one who reinstated all these journalists, right?”

My stomach sinks to my feet. Though my father is the last person I want to share those photos with, I don’t have a choice. I haven’t even been at this party for fifteen minutes and already I’ve ruined the night and possibly the election. Imagine the headlines, “Atwood can’t even control daughter, how will he handle the country?” Then a nice shot of me handing over the keys.

“If you had simply left,” Kai continues, pausing for a moment to spin me in a circle, then pulling me close again, “the media would have immediately picked up that something was wrong. But now it looks like we’re friends. Now the press can write about how great the Westerfield and Atwood families get along. It might even be wise for your father to slip in a couple words about how he and my father go way back. We both look good.”

Slowly, I nod my head. His words are beginning to make sense. It still doesn’t change the fact that his father is now out to make my life a living hell. Leave it to Kai to know how to manipulate the press.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on some military mission or something?” I demand.

“I’m on leave right now.”

“So you decided to come crash our party?”

“Actually,” Kai twirls me around again and this time when he pulls me back I worry for a moment that our heads will collide. But he’s in control, stopping me just before we hit. Enough to both shock me and make me realize how close we’re dancing. “I was invited.” His eyes don’t waver from mine, and I suddenly feel like we’re the only two people left in this ballroom. “Despite what you think, our fathers are actually more alike than different. They are both masters of PR.”

The song ends, and there is light applause as I realize that most of the guests are watching us on the dance floor. My cheeks are deep red by now, I’m sure.

I catch sight of my mother in the crowd; she looks like she’s waiting for the perfect moment to give me a good lecture. Thankfully, the guests begin to mumble and the crowd begins to shift.

Rory comes up to my side, and I’m glad for her company. She’s holding a plate. It’s filled with the rillettetes amuse-bouche she was plating yesterday. “Lily, your mother—”

Kai raises an eyebrow. “Rory?”

Rory lowers the tray while she takes him in. Recognition filters through her eyes. “Kai? I can’t believe they invited you and your father here!”

“You two know each other?” I can’t help but sharply add my two cents. This night is getting weirder by the second.

“We met last weekend,” Kai says smoothly.

“At that new club that I was telling you about,” Rory says, “called Frost.” She turns back to Kai. “I didn’t think you’d remember me.”

“Of course. How could anyone forget that argument?” Kai laughs.

“Argument? You got into an argument?” I’m glancing between the two of them. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? About him?” I sound more accusatory than I should.

“Well, I wanted to, but your mom dragged you out of the kitchen before I had the chance,” Rory explains. “Anyways,” she says, turning to Kai, “Thanks again for covering that tab. I kept trying to explain to that guy that I had cash out in my car but he just wouldn’t let me leave to get it.” Rory turns back to me. “I even told him he could walk out there with me, but because I hadn’t paid my bill they wouldn’t let me out the door. They said I should call someone or something. I don’t know what I would have done if Kai hadn’t covered for me.” She glances back at Kai and adds, “By the way, I owe you nine dollars.”

“No,” Kai says, waving her off, “no, you don’t. I told you that already the other day.”

She shrugs. “Well, I really appreciate it. Kai Westerfield of all people, coming to my rescue. Who would have thought?”

I know my face is twisted into a mix of shock and disapproval. Not a flattering expression, but I can’t wipe it away. Kai and Rory? And Rory is actually acting like she likes this dude. No way. No way! Sure Kai Westerfield is charming, but I can’t believe that Rory of all people is buying it. Everyone knows he’s a playboy. And Rory knows the history between Kai and me.

Soft string music plays in the background as some people dance and other groups of people around the room talk, keeping the noise level even.

I find my father in the crowd. A glass of champagne in his hand, and he’s laughing. A grin spread wide across his face as he talks to Roderick Westerfield. And it isn’t his politician grin. It’s his real one. The one that makes him look like a dad. My dad. During the days of backyard barbecues and summer nights. Sure, Westerfield is my father’s competition and rival, but I sometimes forget there was a time when they were good friends. It dawns on me that the nostalgia must mean something to my father. There must be some part of Roderick Westerfield that my father still feels he understands. Well, I’m not clouded in my judgment of Westerfield. I don’t trust him, and I
don’t
like him.

No one else is unsettled. They have all gone back to their business.

Just like Kai said. We dance. The media gets their pictures. We all go home happy.

Except I’m not happy right now. Is this—my eyes drift up and down Kai’s frame—what Rory meant when she said she met someone new last weekend? The idea makes me angry. She shouldn’t be going after someone like … him. I’ve told her all about Kai. I told her what he said about me. She’s my best friend. Shouldn’t she be on my side?

Kai catches me watching him, and I curtly turn my gaze to Rory.

Kai’s always flaunting around, making these big spectacles at events, smiling and acting like such the confident hero. Cocky, if you ask me. Girls swoon over him, and he eats it up. Did she say he came to her rescue? She should know better. It wasn’t to defend her honor or whatever bullshit he spews. It was for the attention. So he could play the hero and, at the end of the night, everyone would just love him even more.

I glance back over at him through my eyelashes. Clearly, not as subtly as I thought. He’s still staring at me and our eyes meet again.

He’s not even listening to Rory. But then, I guess, neither am I.

I turn my attention to her words just in time to catch the end of her last sentence, “Your mom wants you. She’s up near the media line with your father. I think they’re going to take more pictures or something.” She shrugs and adds, “I have to get back to serving. Ilan’s having a fit in the kitchen. There are so many people. It was good seeing you again, Kai.” She whisks away, tray in hand.

My eyes return to the crowd. At least Jeremy isn’t hovering nearby. But that probably just means he’s reported back to my mother about my “scene,” which is exactly why she wants to see me.

“I have to go,” I blurt to Kai. I want to get lost in this party for just a little bit longer before my mother drags me back to reality.

“Wait,” he says and grabs my hand, forcing me to turn and face him.

“Look, I appreciate what you did,” I say, “the dance and all but….”

“But what?”

A grin pulls at the edges of his lips, and he tilts his head in playful amusement. I can’t tell what the expression means. It’s almost a replica of his father’s. Only, it’s also the opposite of the expression Westerfield wears. Kai’s is laced with sincerity and an authenticity I don’t understand. It nevertheless fills me with suspicion.

“It was really good to see you again, Lily,” he says before I can finish my sentence. “It’s been a long time.”

My face melts before I can harden my gaze. It’s then I realize my hair has fallen over my shoulder, my cheeks are bare all the way to my ears, lending myself like a book to his gaze. I’ve never felt so exposed in my life. And I want to pull my hands up, shy away from his look before his eyes can take in the sight of my face. I don’t want to watch his expression as he analyzes my appearance. I don’t want him to see me and find the disappointments.

His eyes narrow and then his expression drops, yanking my chest and my lungs down with it.

But his face doesn’t mock.

Eyes widen. Jaw slackens. He doesn’t meet my gaze.

What?

Before I can verbalize the question, he’s grabbing my wrist.

“Get down!” he yells, yanking me roughly to the floor.

I catch sight of Marg Lancing, who shrieks. The room seems to take a collective shudder. My body vibrates with surprise. Everything suddenly comes into focus. People are dropping all around us. Glasses are tossed aside as something piercing and crashing pulses through the room.

On the floor, Kai wraps his arms around me. My heart jumps into my throat. An attack? Are we being attacked? I peek through Kai’s arms at the commotion. The back windows of the ballroom are completely shattered, leaving piles of broken shards.

The music stops, replaced by an orchestra of frantic screams as people recognize the danger, causing chaos.

The doors slam shut on their own and something translucent creeps along the hinges, cracking as it climbs up the sides of the door.
Ice.
Ice is forming along the doors!

My feet want to move. I scramble up, but Kai pulls me back to the floor. “Stay down,” he commands. A few people grab the door handles and try to open the doors, but they don’t budge.

All of the glass in the ballroom explodes—champagne flutes, light fixtures, serving platters. Everything. A sharp wind whips through the room like a bomb. Blackness sweeps over us with only the dim moonlight left to illuminate the room.

“Keep your head down!” Kai orders, and I tuck my face between my arms. Some of the flying shards hit my skin and I cringe at the sting, yelping as the pieces rake my flesh.

When the glass stops raining again, I dare to glance up.

My breathing is sharp and inconsistent. My limbs shudder uncomfortably, my muscles tensing repeatedly. I’ve felt this enough to know it’s caused by adrenaline. I just need to stay calm, take deep breathes.

We’re under attack.

And who knows what kind of attack. But it’s all-too familiar, this ducking under objects to protect ourselves from shrapnel.

Kai helps me to stand. He snaps into some sort of soldier mode and has this look in his eyes that says he knows exactly what to do. I cling to that look, praying it’s real. He takes my hand and pulls me back along the wall, hiding us behind the crowds that are running away from the broken windows. Everyone has cleared the dance floor. The musicians have abandoned their instruments, which lay strewn about the hall.

Kai grabs a napkin from a table and takes my wrist, blotting the tiny beads of blood on my arms. His jacket protected him. I wasn’t so fortunate. As he dabs the cuts, the pain settles in over my skin. I flinch at the sting, and my eyes water. Normally, I would snatch the napkin from him and tell him to shove off, but right now I’m too stunned. My eyes are shifting to everything around me. My vision adjusts to the darkness. The shadows dance along the walls as people scatter in frantic attempts to get away. If Kai wasn’t holding my arms, I probably would do the same.