ROM
Mia Morales was almost too perfect.
The interviews, the speeches at her father’s rallies—they painted a picture of a dutiful daughter, the kind who’d sacrifice anything for her family. Her stepmom was sick, so Mia stepped in as the radiant proxy, always at her father’s side.
The media adored her. She had the face of a saint, all soft smiles and big brown eyes, and was forever being caught in the act of doing something noble. Volunteering at soup kitchens. Shaking hands with elderly veterans. Laughing with wide-eyed kids at youth centers.
She smiled like there was nowhere else she’d rather be.
But it was a lie.
Her posture was too stiff, her shoulders too tight. Her smile was beautiful, but it didn’t reach her eyes.
Despite being all over the news, it was clear she hated the spotlight. And yet, she endured it. For her father.
I was sprawled out in bed, laptop balanced on my stomach, whiskey glass in hand as I scrolled through her Instagram for the dozenth time. Her Facebook was a fossil from her teenage years, abandoned long before the Morales political machine got its claws in her. The Internet was all curated interviews where she stuck to the party line. But Instagram? That’s where the real Mia lived.
Her account was private, but she wasn’t careful about who she let in. I made a burner profile for a fake clothing brand, posted a single vague teaser about an upcoming launch, and sent her a follow request. She accepted within an hour.
Little Mia probably prided herself on supporting small businesses.
Her grid was full of food shots, artsy cropped photos of New York, and outfit pics. Lots and lots of them. She dressed her clients in all kinds of wild shit, but her own style was more subdued. Especially in the last year. She was dressing for the campaign now. For her father’s voters.
If I had to guess, she was counting down the days until it was over.
That girl wanted to be in her studio. It wasn’t just a workspace for her. It was her temple, her sanctuary. I’d felt it the second I stepped inside. She’d spend all her time there if she could.
Her business meant a lot to her. But her father meant more.
That’s why I wasn’t sure if she’d take my offer.
It had been a few days, and she hadn’t contacted me.
Fine. I just had to work harder to uncover more of the secrets she hid beneath that polished do-gooder facade. Eventually, I’d find another way in.
Whoever handled security for the Morales campaign should be fired. Mia’s location was tagged in almost every photo. If I wanted to piece together her schedule, I could do it with ease. She was practically begging to be stalked.
Didn’t her father realize how reckless that was? He wasn’t stupid. He knew we were dangerous.
So what made him so confident she was safe? Pure arrogance, perhaps?
Outside, thunder cracked.
My gaze snapped to the window. The rain hadn’t started yet, but it would soon. I hated the sight of it. The way the droplets would slither down my floor-to-ceiling windows like slow-moving tears.
I got up and yanked the blinds shut.
Returning to my nightstand, I downed the rest of my drink. Another few minutes of scrolling brought me to the bottom of Mia’s feed.
Her first post. She was fifteen, maybe sixteen. Four girls posed in front of the backdrop of Valais Academy, that snobby Swiss prep school.
Mia. Fabi. Nina. And a fourth I didn’t recognize.
I had first discovered Mia and my cousin were also friends when I looked into her after Cosimo’s engagement party. But I still hadn’t called Nina to fish for intel.
Maybe it was time.
She picked up on the third ring. “Rom. I was wondering when I’d hear from you.”
My lips quirked. Nina and I barely saw each other these days. Long gone were the summers we spent together as children, playing board games in her parents’ basement. It used to drive her insane when I cheated. Which I did. Constantly.
She was bossy, sharp, and no-nonsense, traits that hadn’t faded with time.
If she suspected I was up to something, she’d warn Mia to stay the hell away from me.
“Let me guess,” I said, leaning back against the headboard. “Mia already told you I stopped by her studio.”
“Yes. And I won’t tell you a damn thing about her if that’s why you’re calling. The women who land in your crosshairs typically end up depressed, fleeing the country to ‘find themselves,’ or filing for divorce. I’m not signing Mia up for any of that.”
My brow arched. “Who’s filed for divorce?”
“That footballer player’s wife you had on your arm at Black Silk the one time I was there.”
I wasn’t aware. I didn’t keep tabs on old flings. “You know her?”
“We have some friends in common. Rumor is things at home went downhill the moment you entered the picture.”
Sounded about right. I excelled at many things, but there was one thing I discovered a long time ago I was particularly good at—destroying people’s lives.
Sometimes, I barely even had to try.
I chuckled dismissively. “You know better than to believe in rumors.”
“Whatever you’re planning, it won’t work. Mia’s not desperate. She knows better than to get involved with you.”
“So protective,” I mused.
“She’s a good person, Rom.”
I bet she was. Which meant she’d be easy to manipulate.
“Like you?” I asked.
“Is that an attempt at flattery? Give me a break.”
“Fine. But at least tell me what you told her about me.”
“Only the truth, and nothing but the truth.”
“Ouch.” I clutched my chest mockingly, even though she couldn’t see it. “We’re family. Family’s supposed to stick together.”
“Mia’s my family too. Maybe not by blood, but in every other way that matters. Don’t forget that.”
The or else hung in the air.
“Good catching up, cuz,” I drawled. I wasn’t going to get anything out of her.
“Good night,” she said dryly and hung up.
I set my phone on the nightstand. It was safe to assume Mia had been thoroughly warned about me.
Forcing Nina to give me something wouldn’t be difficult—I could mess with her business in some way—but I didn’t need to do that. Not yet. I could research—
My phone buzzed with a text.
“I’ll dress you for The Golden Circle party. Can you come to the studio on Tuesday at 8 a.m.?”
A spark of excitement zapped up my spine.
Well, well, well.
Guess Mia wasn’t so selfless after all.
She was open to crossing some lines to save her precious business. And that was even after hearing the warnings I presumed Nina had given, which had likely been as long as the tax code.
I raked my fingers through my hair.
Mia thought she could handle me, then. It looked like arrogance ran in her family.
I let out a low chuckle, shaking my head. She had no idea who she’d just invited into her life.
But she’d learn.
Oh, she’d learn.
