“Dillon is from England, Mitch,” Catherine imparts happily. “Isn’t that wonderful?”
“Hmm. So, what brought you to our country, Dillon?”
No hello or nice to meet you.
God, he’s an ass at times.
“Oh, erm …” Dillon’s eyes nervously shoot to mine. “Holiday. Sorry, vacation. I’m here on vacation.”
She’s so nervous. I just want to pick her up and carry her out of here.
“How did you two meet?” he asks me.
I hold his stare. He’s checking to see if I’ve brought home another scandal for the press to run a story about. He’s not worried for my sake, but his own.
“On vacation.” I’m not making this easy for him.
His eyes go to Dillon. “So, you were on vacation first in the Maldives and now America?”
Dillon swallows. “Yes, sir. I, um … I was on vacation first in the Maldives. But when West suggested I come to America after my vacation ended there, I thought it would be a good place to get inspiration for my new book. I’m a writer. Author. I write books.”
“What type of books do you write?” Catherine asks Dillon. “Will I know them?”
“Oh no.” Dillon laughs softly. “I’m not well known at all. I self-publish my books. I write romance.”
“Oh, how wonderful!” Catherine beams at her. “I love romance books. Come with me, and we’ll get a glass of champagne and talk all things romance and books.”
She threads her arm through Dillon’s and leads her off, and I’m thankful to Catherine for whisking her away from the awkwardness of this conversation. I watch them go for a few seconds before turning back to my father.
“So, you brought home some random girl that you met on vacation?”
“No, I invited a friend to come stay with me for a little while. I’m surprised you didn’t already know about Dillon.”
He gives me a look. “Of course I knew. I just didn’t expect you to bring your latest fling with you here to Catherine’s birthday party.”
“She’s a friend.”
“Whom you’ve known for a few weeks. I’m assuming you’re screwing her. Do you really think bringing some hook-up back home with you was a good idea after the reason you went on the vacation in the first place?”
It’s hilarious that he’s giving me a hard time about having a fling when this man spent all of his married life to my mother—and maybe his married life to Catherine—fucking anything with a pulse.
I clench my jaw. “I went on vacation because of a video of something that I did when I was a kid.”
“You were seventeen and snorting coke off a random girl’s stomach.”
“Seventeen. Ergo a kid.”
“I had a job when I was seventeen. Not partying and stuffing drugs up my nose.”
“I was hurting over Mom’s death. I made a bad choice. I’m not proud of it.”
“Your mother had been dead for two years at that point. You can’t use her passing as an excuse for everything.”
I feel all the old hurt come rushing back, angering the fuck out of me. “It’s not an excuse, but not everyone could get over her death in point-three seconds after she died, like you,” I hiss.
His jaw clenches. “I mourned your mother.”
I laugh humorlessly. “Yeah, fucking your assistant must’ve really helped you to deal with the grief.”
“Is that why you do this shit? Bring some random girl you picked up on vacation here, just to get back at me for the past?”
“Believe it or not, Mr. President, not everything is about you.”
“Hi … um, I’m really sorry to interrupt.” It’s Dillon, and my eyes close on a sigh. There’s no way that she didn’t hear what he just said. “Catherine, um, I mean, the First Lady got taken away to greet some guests who had just arrived and she asked me if I would send you over,” she says to my dad.
My dad stares at me a beat. “We’ll talk later,” he says to me and then looks at Dillon. “Enjoy your evening.”
Dillon watches him stride away before she looks back at me.
“Any chance you didn’t hear any of that?”
She gives me an awkward smile. “He’s not keen on me, huh? I mean, I get it. It’s fine.”
“This really is a case of it’s not you, it’s me.” I reach out and take hold of her hand, tugging her a little closer. “My father looks at my choices in life not as how they’ll affect me, but how they’ll affect his approval ratings.”
Nothing I’ve ever done—or will do—is good enough for him. It’s always been this way, and it only