The Insiders by Tijan

FIFTY-THREE

There were people everywhere. They were wealthy, privileged, powerful, and I was officially freaking. Forget that they were here for me, though I knew that was just the excuse. When Peter Francis threw a party, people came. That was the sentiment I felt, and I knew it was true as I saw three politicians, a mega pop star that I was fangirling over inside, and—oh boy—a queen of a television network. She was laughing with a group of television anchors and my mom.

My mom?

I stopped walking. Kash stepped next to me, following my gaze.

He chuckled, but it was strained. He hadn’t said a word about my “talk” to him. “Why am I not surprised to see Chrissy Hayes fitting in like she owns this house?”

I threw him back a frown. “Speaking of that, have you gotten a feel on the dynamics between her and my dad? And Quinn? They’ve all been tight-lipped about letting any of that out. It’s weird.”

He shrugged, tugging me forward now.

A server went by with champagne, strawberries inside, and I snagged two. I wasn’t even going to pretend I got the other one for Kash. He wouldn’t drink, so call me Two-Hands Fister. It was my party. I could drink if I wanted to.

“I think there’s history between the two that neither wants to talk about,” he said.

As soon as people started noticing us, conversations quieted. Eyes turned to track us. One would think they were watching me. Nope. I wasn’t buying it. All those gazes were on Kash, then dipping to his hand, which was now on my back as, yep, I was holding both of my champagne glasses. Classy.

I could fix that. I quickly drank one of the glasses.

Kash was pulling me over to where Matt was sitting. He was with his usual group of friends, sitting on the lounge chairs by a glass-enclosed fire pit. Matt jerked his head up in a nod, grinning as we drew nearer. He moved to meet us, separating from his group, and one of his hands went into his tuxedo pocket. “You two look fucking smashing.” His eyes were twinkling. He looked me over. “Shit, Bailes. You look hot, even for a sister of mine.” His lips tugged further upward and he motioned around the entire backyard. The party tables were set up on the bricked patio, behind the mausoleum, but the people had spread so they were standing on the greens that were a part of the estate’s private golf course. A few even were on the basketball court, and I saw a couple kids running around shooting hoops at the far end. Cyclone was with them.

Seraphina was standing in a group of other girls. I made a mental note to find out the names of each and every one of them. I remembered the online journal I hacked from Seraphina’s account. It hadn’t boded well then, and it boded even less now.

Big protective sister was here to stay.

We stayed with Matt and his friends, friends who were very keen and interested and now suddenly all wanting to be friendly with me. Shocker. They were also noticing the hand that Kash kept on my back.

I liked how we were.

I wasn’t leaning on him. He wasn’t claiming me. He didn’t pull me to his side, but he was next to me. There was some space between us, but his hand was behind me in case I needed him. It was almost perfect.

Matt sometimes stood on my other side, sometimes maneuvered in front of us so it was the three of us and his back was keeping everyone else out. Sometimes he just moved aside and grinned when people came over to “meet” me.

It was his friends first.

Fleur and the third girl in her trio with Victoria were next, though no V.

I figured Victoria was around somewhere.

Torie and Tamara were at the snack table, then at the edge of our circle. They were laughing with Chester and Tony. Torie glanced over at one point, sharing a look with Kash before skimming to me and giving me a smile. She tipped back her champagne glass and turned back to whatever Guy was saying. He had replaced Chester at some point.

The more time passed, like a clock ticking off every second, the more tense I grew. I hadn’t moved out of our spot, but I knew it was coming. Then it came.

Conversations quieted as Peter nodded hello to the outer circle first, moving toward where Matt, Kash, and I stood.

He paused, looking uncertain for the first time. His eyebrows dipped together. He raked a look over Matthew, then Kash, and coming last to me. His lips thinned and he settled his shoulders back. His head rose a centimeter and he cleared his throat.

“Are you ready?”

Matt stepped back, glancing to Kash, who moved forward.

Kash asked, “For what?”

Peter looked to him. “I was going to introduce her to people.” He paused, just the slightest of pauses, dropping his voice low. “You know I have to.”

“You don’t have to do a thing.”

Peter pressed his lips together, the exhaustion coming from him for the first time. I noticed an extra line of bags under his eyes. “I do, actually. It’s the only way to make it right, for her. You want something long-term with her, you know this will make things easier. If I don’t walk around with my daughter, at a party for my daughter, it’ll look like I don’t want them to address her as my daughter.” He kept giving Kash a meaningful look each time he said that phrase.

His head lifted again. “Networking isn’t something I enjoy, and I know you hate it, but it’s a necessity. It might not be for you and where you are going to be in the hierarchy, but Bailey’s not that lucky—or unlucky, however you prefer to see it. If I don’t walk around with her on my arm, she’ll look like an embarrassment and”—his eyes flickered to mine—“she’s anything but an embarrassment.”

Now he turned right to me, focusing on me, only me. “This is overdue. She deserves this respect.”

Tears.

My throat was swelling up.

This was not boding well for me.

I needed a joke. Stat.

Matt grinned, seeing my predicament, and leaned in. “Yeah, sis. Don’t choke. Suck it down. Be a Quinn.”

Peter threw him a disgusted look, his eyes flaring. “Are you kidding—”

Matt gestured to me with his drink. “It worked.”

A laugh burst from me, and I was coughing, trying to get the rest of those annoying things out of me. I was damn near hacking. Could not process. Could not think, feel. It was robot time.

I touched Kash’s arm, not surprised at how tense he was. “It’s just a roundabout, then I’ll be back.”

His scowl never left his face, but his eyes flashed over my shoulder to Dad. “Don’t introduce me.”

Introduce Kash? Then I saw what he meant.

Peter—I was adjusting here. Dad/Peter … I was going with Peter now—nodded, saying, “Fine.”

My dad/Peter, myself, and Kash behind me.

My dad introduced me to people. Some, I tried not to swoon, because—hello—they were huge names. It was the ones in the tech world that had my knees buckling. A couple government officials and the few celebrities, they had my stomach all fluttering, but they didn’t pack the punch of the cyber conglomerates.

My dad introduced me, drawing me forward to the circles. I shook hands, kept a nice smile on my face, and every second question I was asked, I responded with one in the same vein.

Everyone was nice, but I wasn’t the only reason they had come. As soon as the introduction was done, and sometimes before it even started, their eyes trailed behind my shoulder.

They all wanted to know Kash.

A few tried. The government officials tried to reach out for a handshake, but Peter moved in with a question or a comment and the attention was diverted.

When we were done, I snagged my fifth champagne. I was heading left. Peter grabbed me and veered right, and I heard Matthew snorting somewhere behind me. I tried to throw him a glare, but then Peter was leading me to my absolute nightmare.

I should have been prepared. I was prepared.

I knew this was going to happen, hence the five champagnes, but then everyone was being moved farther down the backyard. Peter was leading me to the top of the patio/deck area, so—gulp—it was like we were on a stage.

This. Right here. Worst nightmare ever.

I so wasn’t prepared.

I was suddenly realizing how much I hated attention—like, dreaded it. Like I made an entire career plan so I wouldn’t get attention. Ever. And here I was. I was also remembering the benefits of not being known as Peter Francis’s daughter. Yeah, yeah. I couldn’t have it both ways, being claimed as his daughter and not getting attention. It was what it was. But I could gripe about it, couldn’t I? So I was griping. Actually, I was drinking. I was almost done with my fifth champagne, and as Peter was talking, a microphone was placed in his hand—did we really need that?—and I was trying to catch the eye of a nearby server. Refills, sir. Refills.

“… are moments in life that we will always remember, and the day I heard I had another daughter was one of them.”

I was clueing in, and I saw how Peter stood to the side, a smile on his face, no sparkle in his eyes, and the microphone in front of his mouth. He was grandstanding. He was making a show here. This was supposed to be just an announcement, just to tell them who I was and how happy he was that I was a part of his life. That wasn’t what he was doing.

He was lying.

He’d been told from the beginning.

My hand clenched my champagne glass and I fought to keep from weaving on my feet, but he was lying. I hated that. Detested it. It wasn’t one of my big rules. I was pretty lenient on the whole being-fake charade. But right now, hearing the father who hadn’t acknowledged me in forever now acting like I was this big, grand surprise to him—I was gritting my teeth.

I wanted to tear into him, rip that mic out of his hands, and tell everyone the truth.

He kept on, so damn smooth. “She wrote to my office, and we didn’t take her seriously.” A har-har-har laugh from him. The crowd joined in, thinking he was hilarious.

What was going on here?

He was kind, then kind again, attentive even, and now this? I was not following a thing, not at all. Nothing was making sense to me.

My blood was starting to simmer.

His eyes hardened, seeing my confusion, but he kept his voice so light and happy. How did he do that?

He was saying, turning back to the crowd behind him, “And then we realized that she truly was my daughter, and no one could imagine the whirlwind that happened after that.”

Damn, he was good. He almost sounded sincere.

The simmering was moving to the next stage.

His voice was low, husky even. “We had hoped for some privacy while we got to know each other, but it’s time now.” He turned, facing everyone, his free hand holding up his champagne. “Join with me as I toast, as the entire Francis family now has one more member, my daughter.” He turned back, his eyes warming, now being genuine, and he blinked back a tear. His voice broke into the microphone, but it only added to a swoon effect. I saw some of the women wiping away tears of their own.

I shot past the boiling stage. There were flames.

“Welcome, Bailey. I want the world to know about you. I want the world to love you as much as I already do.” And then he couldn’t say any more. A second tear was sliding down his face, and his Adam’s apple was bobbing up and down as he tried to control his emotions.

He just stopped.

He sighed, raised his glass up, everyone else raising their own, and he was beaming at me as he took a drink.

Lies. All the fucking lies. I was sick of them.

A cheer rose up from below us, then Peter was moving toward me. He wrapped me in his arms, hugging me, and he whispered into my ear, out of everyone’s sight, “I had to keep with the script our publicist gave me, but I meant every word. I already do love you, and I am so happy that you came to us, even if it was in an unorthodox way.” He pressed a hand to the back of my head as I resisted, but shit. I was weak.

I hugged him back.

I felt the emotion rippling through him, and damn if that didn’t do something to me. I was melting, so I pulled back. “Thank you.” It was all I could get out.

He blinked away a tear, then someone called his name and he stepped away.

How fitting.