by Stella Hart
“It’s a guaranteed win six fucking years from now,” Mom snapped.
“But—”
She cut him off. “Do you have any idea what it’s like to be me, Jamie?”
“No, ma’am.”
“Well, let me tell you. Being Rutherford’s VP is an abject humiliation. Everyone loves him, but he’s an incompetent baboon. I’m the one who gets everything done, even when he shuts me out of every meeting and keeps me stuffed away in the Eisenhower Building. I’m the one who should be fucking president!”
Jamie held up his palms in a conciliatory manner. “You’re right. I believe in you, ma’am, and I know you should be president. But this is just the way things are. I’m sorry.”
“No. I can’t do this for six more years. I won’t.” Mom rubbed her forehead. “Screw it. We’re going with Plan B.”
“Plan B?” Jamie’s voice rose slightly. “That’s the nuclear option.”
“I know.”
“We should take some time to consider it.”
“No. We’re doing it.” Mom folded her arms. “I’ve had enough of Rutherford trying to crush my projects for all the stupid parts of his own agenda. It’s my turn.”
Jamie lowered his voice again. “Ma’am, with all due respect, we’re talking about killing the pre—”
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?” I said extra-loudly to announce my presence so it didn’t look like I was eavesdropping on them. Neither of them had noticed my approach at all, because the grass silenced my footsteps.
Mom turned to look at me. Shock was written in every line on her face. “Willow… what the hell are you doing here?”
I held up the plate. “I wanted to bring you some of this. The servers cut it early for some reason.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I asked for privacy out here.”
“Your detail said it was fine.”
“I see,” she said crisply. “Goddamned fucking idiots,” she added in a mutter under her breath. She obviously hadn’t intended for me to hear that part, but I did.
My shoulders drooped slightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to disturb you. It’s just that it’s your favorite cake. The raspberry and white chocolate one.”
“I hate white chocolate,” she snapped.
“But you told me—”
Jamie cut me off. “I’ll eat it, Willow. It sounds delicious.”
“All right,” I said in a small voice. I handed him the plate. “What were you talking about, anyway? It kinda sounded like you were planning on offing the president.” I said the last part in the cheeriest tone I could muster, hoping it would lighten the mood.
Mom glared at me. “We were discussing next month’s State Dinner.”
“And I was just saying that someone we know might have to kill someone else’s media image,” Jamie added with a genial smile. “That must be what you heard.”
“Oh. Right.”
“How’s college, anyway?”
“Good. I think I’m doing well.”
Mom’s lip curled slightly. “You’re in the eightieth percentile of your classes. I’d hardly call that ‘doing well’. At this rate, you won’t even make it into law school.”
I bit my lip to stop myself from saying something snippy in response. I knew how stressful my mother’s job was, and that stress made her irritable and downright coldhearted on occasion. “I’m happy with how it’s going,” I mumbled instead.
“Well, eightieth percentile means only twenty percent of the other students are doing better,” Jamie said, giving my mother a pointed look before turning back to me. “I think that’s great, Willow. Congratulations.”
“Now, if we can get her to stop talking like a street hooligan, we’ll really have something to celebrate,” my mother muttered.
I frowned. “Street hooligan?”
“When you waltzed up here a minute ago, all I heard was ‘hey’ and ‘what’s up’. Not to mention all this talk of ‘offing’ the president.”
I raised my eyes skyward. “Mom, that’s how regular people talk. Trust me. No one thinks I sound like a hooligan.”
She bristled at me. “You aren’t a regular person. You’re my daughter, and I didn’t send you to a fifty-thousand-dollar-a-year prep school for you to act like any old kid on the street.”
I sighed. This conversation was getting worse by the second. “Okay, Mom. I’ll leave you alone. Sorry for the interruption.”
Jamie gave me an apologetic smile before I turned away.
“Oh, one more thing,” I said, whipping back around to face Mom. “Have you seen Dad?”
She shrugged. “Not for an hour or so.”
“Okay. Well, I’ll see you later.”
I headed back toward the pergola and flashed my mother’s Secret Service agents a rueful smile. “I think I got you in trouble. Sorry.”
One of them almost cracked a smile. “Don’t worry, Miss. We’ll be fine.”
“Would you like me to go inside and get you something to eat?” I asked, still feeling guilty. “Maybe some birthday cake before it…”
I trailed off as something caught my eye. A large dark shadow had appeared in the window of the mansion’s turreted room. It looked like a person was standing up there watching us.
One of the agents moved closer to me. “Miss, are you okay?”
I blinked, and the shadowy figure was gone. “I’m fine. I think I’m just seeing things.”
The other agent spoke up again. “We don’t need anything to eat. You should head back inside.”
I nodded and walked back through the pergola with my detail. For a second, I thought I caught a glimpse of someone in the window again, but when I looked, there was nothing there. It was just my imagination. Still, my arms were peppered with goosebumps and every hair on the back of my neck had risen. Despite the complete lack of evidence to prove it, an unshakable thought had set itself in my mind.
Someone was watching me.
3
Willow
I stepped back inside and hurried upstairs, pretending I didn’t see Marissa waving to me from across the room. I needed to check on my little brother. The thought of someone creeping around the private upstairs rooms of our house and frightening him—or worse—made my stomach clench with fear.
When I reached the top floor, I raced into Jared’s room. He was awake, and the lamp beside his bed was switched on.
“Why are you up?” I asked. “Are you okay?”
He nodded and rubbed his bleary eyes. “I heard someone walking down the hall. The footsteps woke me up.”
“I was in here about fifteen minutes ago to check on you. You might’ve just heard me leaving.”
He shook his head. “It was only a few minutes ago, and it didn’t sound like your shoes,” he said. “I think it was Dad. I turned my light on because I’ve been waiting for him to come in, but he hasn’t yet.”
I let out a short sigh of relief. It hadn’t even occurred to me that it might be our father, but it made sense. He’d mentioned earlier in the evening that he wanted to check in on Jared every so often to make sure the party wasn’t disturbing his sleep.
I stepped back over to the door and peered up and down the hall. There was no one to be seen. “You’re right, it was probably Dad,” I said, stepping back over to Jared’s bed. “He must’ve quickly poked his head in to make sure you were asleep.”
“Maybe.” He sat up straighter. “How’s the party? Is it fun?”
I smiled and took a seat on the edge of his bed. “It’s pretty cool.”
“Yesterday I heard the housekeeper saying there would be billionaires coming tonight. Is that true?” Jared’s eyes were wide as he spoke, and I smiled again.
At nine years old, he was at the stage where a hundred dollars seemed like an absolute fortune. A billion dollars was almost incomprehensible to him. To be fair, though, the idea of having that much money was incomprehensible to most adults too. Myself included. My family was very well-off, but we weren’t that rich. Not like the
Thornes, Hales, and various other families on tonight’s guest list.
“Yes, it’s true,” I said.
“If I was a billionaire, I’d buy a shark.”
I laughed. “Me too. Sharks are awesome.” I picked up the tablet that sat on the bedside table and switched it on. “Why don’t I read you some cool facts about them until you go back to sleep?”
Jared pouted. “Can I go down to the party instead?”
“You’re still too young for that, and it’s ten o’clock. You should’ve been asleep an hour ago.” I leaned in and adopted a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, I know I said the party was cool, but I was just being polite. It’s really just a bunch of boring adults. Hanging out with you is way cooler.”
Jared snuggled back down into his bed, trying to hide his little smile. “Fine. Shark facts. Or dinosaurs.”
Fifteen minutes later, he was fast asleep again. I tucked him back in and left his room, shutting the door as quietly as possible so he wouldn’t wake up again.
When I reached the ground floor, Marissa, Kate and Simone hurried over to me. “Where have you been?” Kate asked.
“I was reading to Jared. He woke up for some reason.”
“Oh,” she said, cheeks flushing. “Well, look… we’re sorry, okay?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Wait, it was you walking around upstairs?”
She waved a hand. “No, I meant we’re sorry for being bitchy to Rowan earlier.”
“I always forget that you’re friends with him,” Simone chimed in.
“Plus we’re super bored,” Marissa added.
“Being bored isn’t an excuse to treat people like shit,” I said, folding my arms. “Rowan is nice. He doesn’t deserve to be bullied.”
Marissa sighed. “I’m sorry, okay?” she said. Before I could respond, she went on. “Seriously, though, what the hell happened to this party? Can you blame us for being bored?”
I looked around. She had a point. In the last half-hour, more than a third of the guests had left the party, and a few more were stepping out the door as we spoke. For an event that was supposed to be one of the hottest tickets of the season, it was turning out to be quite a disappointment.
“I don’t know,” I said with a shrug. “Maybe people are getting tired?”
“It’s barely ten.”
“Well, there’s still a lot of people here. Just not as many as before.”
“Yeah, a lot of boring people.”
Once again, despite her scathing tone, Marissa had a point. Most of the remaining guests were total stiffs.
“At least President Rutherford is still here,” I said.
“Even he can’t save this party. I want to go to a club,” Simone said, pouting her thin pink lips.
I sighed. “Okay, if you really want to, we can leave. I doubt my mom will care. But I’ll need to clear it with my security detail.”
“Wait, no. Fuck the clubs. I have the best idea.” Marissa clapped her hands together, eyes brightening. “Willow, you’ll know the answer to this. Is it true that there are secret government tunnels and rooms everywhere under D.C?”
I lifted my brows. “Hm?”
She leaned her head closer to me. “I heard there are a ton of them going from the White House to the Capitol and a bunch of other buildings. There’s even meant to be one here at the VP’s mansion. Apparently they lead into all sorts of secret passageways and rooms that are actually inside the White House. Imagine how fun it would be to sneak around there in the middle of the night with a few bottles of champagne.”
Kate nodded emphatically. “Oh my god, yes! I heard something about tunnels too. Although…” She tilted her head and frowned. “I thought there was only a short one from the East Wing to the Treasury Building.”
All three girls were looking at me expectantly now. I kept my expression neutral. “Secret tunnels under the city? Really?”
“Stop avoiding the question,” Simone said.
I sighed. “Look, we don’t live in some sort of Hardy Boys story,” I said. “I mean, yeah, there’s the evacuation tunnel to the Treasury Building like Kate just said, but that’s it. Nothing else.”
Marissa narrowed her eyes. “You’re lying,” she said triumphantly. “Your nose twitches when you’re nervous.”
“So there are secret tunnels?” Kate asked, dropping her voice to an excited whisper.
I let out another sigh. With one hand, I gestured for them to lean even closer to me. “Fine, yes. There are tunnels running under D.C. But it’s not that interesting. They were built ages ago so that government officials could get from one place to another when they didn’t want to be seen in public. That’s all. Hardly anyone actually uses them anymore.”
“Who else knows about them?”
I shrugged. “A lot of people. I overheard the Secret Service telling my parents about them when we first moved in here. The real question is who can access the tunnels, and the answer is: not many. All of the entrances are secret, and even if you find out where one of them is, you can’t get in without a keycard. They added that as a security measure about twenty-five years ago when someone mentioned the tunnels in an interview.”
Marissa’s shoulders slumped. “So we can’t sneak into the secret White House passageways from here?”
“The White House is two miles away,” I said. “You wouldn’t want to walk that far in heels.”
Simone tilted her head to the side. “You sneaky bitch. You didn’t actually answer the question.”
“Oh my god. They gave you a keycard, didn’t they?” Marissa said, eyes widening.
I snorted. “Of course not. Do you really think they’d give one to me?”
“Yes. You’re the VP’s daughter,” she replied, folding her arms.
“Trust me, that’s not considered important enough to warrant that type of security clearance. But…” A devious smile curled up my lips. “I might have a card anyway.”
“I freaking knew it! How did you get it?”
“My dad dropped his in the garden room a while ago, and I found it. He told his Secret Service detail to get him a new one and cancel the old one so it wouldn’t work anymore, because he thought he must’ve lost it out on the street somewhere. I got the agents alone a while later and told them that he found the old one and didn’t need it to be canceled anymore, but he still wanted the new one as a spare. That way the old one would still function. I honestly didn’t think it would work, but it did. They believed me, and the old keycard still works just fine.”
Marissa’s brows rose. “So you’ve actually been in the tunnels?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve poked around them a few times.”
“What’s it like?”
“Honestly, it’s pretty boring. I’ve never been able to find any of the so-called secret rooms, so I’m pretty sure they don’t exist.”
“I want to look around anyway,” Kate said.
I pointedly lowered my gaze to their shoes. All three of them were wearing stilettos. “You guys really want to walk around a bunch of dirty old tunnels in those?” I asked.
I found high heels comfortable to walk in, but that was only because I was so used to it, and I also had big feet which seemed to make it a lot easier. Marissa, Kate and Simone all had small feet, and they always whined that it was painful to walk in heels because of it.
“I don’t care. I’ve had enough wine to kill the pain until tomorrow,” Simone said. “Besides, if it gets that bad, we can just come back here and borrow some flats from you.”
“They wouldn’t fit,” I said, hoping they’d give up and drop the subject. It was a dumb idea to sneak around the tunnels at night. They were cold and wet most of the time, and there really wasn’t much to see down there.
Kate let out an impatient huff. “We’ll take some from your mom’s wardrobe, then. She’s close to our size.”
That was true. My mother was curvaceous but short with tiny feet, whereas I’d taken after my father in the looks department.
By the time I was fourteen, I was already a lanky five-eight, and I’d grown another inch and a half after that before finally stopping slightly short of five-ten when I was sixteen.
I chewed my bottom lip for a second. “Um. I don’t—”
Simone cut me off before I could argue again. “Please? I really want to go.”
“Please, please, please?” Kate added, eyes shining fervently.
I held up my hands. “Fine. We can go for a little while, but only if you guys do something first.”
Marissa’s frowned. “What?”
“Go and talk to Rowan,” I said with a smug smile. “He’s the one you should’ve apologized to earlier. Not me.”
She folded her arms. “Are you serious?”
“Do you want me to take you into the tunnels or not?” I asked, arching a brow. “All you have to do is say sorry, and then we can go.”
“Fine,” she mumbled.
All three girls flounced off.
While I waited for them, I rifled through my clutch to make sure I still had the stolen keycard. I found it tucked between two of my credit cards. When my friends headed back over to me, I pulled it out and held it up. “A deal’s a deal. Let’s go.”
“Your security guys won’t follow us, will they?” Kate asked as we headed across the room.
I glanced at her and shook my head. “They won’t know what we’re up to. The entrance is in one of the downstairs bathrooms, so they’ll just think we’re in there fixing our makeup or something. They only… ow!”
My sentence was cut off by another party guest slamming right into me. I whipped my head around to see who it was, and to my chagrin, I realized it was Logan Thorne. He obviously hadn’t been watching where he was going (though I wasn’t either, to be fair), and he’d bumped right into me and sloshed his drink all down my dress.
“Watch it, asshole,” Marissa snapped.
