Everything for Us (A Bad Boys Novel) by M. Leighton

murder?”
    “That just makes him more relatable to constituents. Makes him seem more human. He’s the boy from the streets who overcame his humble beginnings. A man of the people.”
    Constituents?
    “And why does that matter? It’s not like he’s—”
    I stop abruptly, for the first time recognizing my father’s big-picture plan for me. I always thought it had to do with him grooming me to take my place as a partner in the firm one day, but it didn’t. It never did. He never had plans like that for me. He was simply grooming me to be the wife of a powerful man. A very powerful man. Like a man in politics.
    He has plans for Nash in politics.
    “Oh my God! How did I never see this before?”
    His lips thin, confirming my suspicion. He doesn’t even bother to deny it. He knows exactly what I’m talking about. “I knew you’d catch on one day and see how perfectly this could all work out.” He takes a step toward me, narrowing his eyes on mine. “As long as you don’t screw it up.”
    My mouth drops open. I can’t help it. Has he always treated me like nothing more than a pawn and I’ve just never noticed it? Is it possible for someone to be so wrapped up in an identity that she’d never notice she was living in such a twisted, narcissistic, superficial world?
    Apparently so.
    “Close your mouth. And don’t act like this is a foreign concept to you. You’ve been more than happy to go along with my plans up until now.” He walks to me and puts his hands on my upper arms, bending slightly to look into my eyes. It’s his version of tenderness. I recognize it. I’ve just never realized how cold, calculated, and practiced it is. “I only want what’s best for you, sweetheart.”
    I close my mouth, but only to keep the words that are lodged in my throat from spilling off my tongue. I nod robotically and give him my best attempt at a smile. I need to keep up pretenses as much as I can until I have some time to think. And plan. And figure out how to live, how to make a life for myself, outside of everything and everyone I’ve ever known.
    In a town that my father practically owns.
    It doesn’t look very promising for me.

NINE
    Nash
    Visiting my father in prison, with all the security checks, thick bars, uniformed men, and violent-looking criminals at every turn, is a harsh reality check. It marks the first time I’m able to have a little sympathy for what Cash must’ve felt the first time he’d visited Dad all those years ago. As a lost kid, no less. That slap in the face must’ve hurt like a bitch.
    “Sign in, please,” the guard says automatically. It’s the second time we’ve had to do this, which makes me wonder what kind of incompetent asshole is keeping the records when you have to sign in two different times, on the same day at the same prison, for the same inmate.
    Good God, people! It’s not that hard.
    I’m grouchy. I’ll admit it. None of this—from seeing Cash again, to finally finding the man who killed Mom, to how I’d spend my first few days “alive,” so to speak—is anything like I’d imagined it would be. It makes me wonder if the rest of my life will be as disappointing. Maybe this is the way everything will turn out—shitty.
    I’ll be damned
, I think rebelliously. I refuse to let a cascade of events that was beyond my control and perpetrated by people other than me ruin my life.
    I just need to get this figured out, get past this part, and move the hell on!
    My head aches from the scowl I know is plastered across my face. It’s been a constant companion for about seven years now. I know the feeling well.
    Because there are two of us, they put us in a small room to await Dad. It reminds me of an interrogation room from one of those cheesy law shows on TV. All that’s missing is a bright light swinging over the table.
    I sit in one of the cold, plastic chairs and lean back to cross my arms over my chest. I feel impatient. And on edge. I’m mulling over all the