Page 52 of Redeeming the Villain
Oh, Iknow. Everything’s a rush—always. God forbid I take a second to gather myself.
But I don’t say any of that.
Instead, I smile up at her and stride up the stairs, using the railing to help. Before I even reach the top one, her hand is hooked beneath my arm and pulling me inside of the door.
The dean, president, and the provost of HEAU, as well as my dad, are all waiting inside. All of their stares find me as we rush down the hall toward them.
The persona that exists inside of me for the times I’m the congressman’s daughter more than myself surfaces, taking over. “I am so sorry that I am late! Please forgive me. I was feeling a bit under the weather when I woke up this morning.”
They all brush it off, the president speaking for the group. “It is no concern at all. We’re just glad you made it safely.”
My dad is smiling at me, seemingly as happy as the rest of the men. But there’s a sign—a tiny, almost-indiscernible darkness in his gaze—that tells me otherwise. He’s fuming; he just won’t show it in front of them.
“Shall we?” Jess asks, gesturing toward the door that’s propped open.
The men nod and smile before allowing Jess and me to enter the room first.
“Thank you,” I praise them, stroking their egos.
We file inside the Lockhart Room and make our way to the round table in the center of the circle rug beneath the tall crystal chandelier. Small name cards assign our seats, which we quietly take. I’m to the left of my father, then the dean, the president, the provost, and then Jess.
A server comes around the moment we’re settled and removes the name cards before disappearing from the room.
A different server approaches us with an iced water pitcher in her hands. “Can I get anyone a glass of water?”
“Yes, please.” My voice is almost unrecognizable, quiet and soft.
She starts with me, working her way around the table until the glasses are all full.
The president takes a drink before directing his attention my way. “Alora, tell us, are you enjoying your time here so far?”
I nod as a grin lifts my lips. “Most definitely. HEAU has been a dream come true. It’s an honor to be here, sir.”
President Scott responds, “That’s great to hear. We want nothing but success for you here. We’re honored to be your school of choice.”
The first server saves me from another political answer, walking over with the first two plates, setting them down in front of my dad and me.
Bacon, two small pancakes, scrambled eggs, fruit and a small slice of wheat toast. I see my dad failed to mention in the planning of this breakfast that I have to be careful with how much sugar I consume. The rest of the plates are brought out, and everyone thankfully spends the next few minutes eating while I pick around my plate and eat a few bites of the scrambled eggs and fruit.
After everyone clears their plate, aside from me, the guys talk shop for a while, which basically translates to kissing each other’s ass for a half an hour. I’m here merely as a prop. I bet if I didn’t say a word the rest of the day, no one would notice.
Once the breakfast table is cleared, we pose in front of an HEAU step-and-repeat backdrop for a few photos, which seems to take ages to complete.
I just need to get through the rest of this day, and I can relax again, without the hawk watching over me.
When the two-hour break approaches, I know just where I’m going—to practice piano until I feel more like myself again.
It goes by in a blur, and by the time the two-hour break comes to a close, I contemplate calling my dad and telling him that I’m too sick to come to our meeting.
But I know he would just come here instead, and neither of us wants that.
I’m meeting him in the dean’s office, who turned it over to him for anything he needs for the day. Generous, as always when it comes to my family. I know I should be grateful, right? But all I feel is disgust.
“Come in,” my father calls out after I knock on the hardwood door, his tone stern.
Twisting the doorknob, I push it open, finding him comfortably sitting in the dean’s chair with his hands crossed on top of the oak desk. I shut the door behind me, knowing he’ll want privacy.
“Have a seat,” he orders, his gaze dropping to the two black leather chairs positioned across from him.
