Page 28 of Ruthless Prince
No doubt President Rhoades will release a statement about her daughter’s unbecoming behavior soon… Watch thisspace!
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Ichuckledand put my phone down, closing the tabloid article. The Beltway Buzz gossip site was the trashiest news joint in town—if you could even call their content news—and no one with an ounce of decorum or even a sliver of moral fiber visited it or believed a word published onit.
However, this was D.C., the epicenter of the world’s most cutthroat political scene. Hardly anyone here had any sense of decorum, let alone any morals. That meant everyone read the Buzz religiously, devouring every little morsel of gossip like it was manna from heaven. The latest article would be on everyone’s lips beforelunchtime.
It was perfect. The general public now thought Willow was some sort of sloppy drunk, and the people closest to her thought she was mentally unstable. No one trusted her. She didn’t even trust herselfanymore.
That meant I’d played my cardsperfectly.
The best part was that I didn’t even have to pay anyone to make it all happen. Not the Secret Service agents assigned to her detail, nor the doctors who treated her at the hospital. They all genuinely believed she’d lost her shit over the last few months, courtesy of my sinister system ofharassment.
Every piece of evidence Willow thought she could use to prove she had a dangerous stalker either ceased to exist within seconds of her seeing it or could be conveniently traced right back to her, making her look like the world’s dumbest attention seeker or straight up mentally ill. It was incredible. Made me rock-hard whenever I thought aboutit.
There was actually a German word that perfectly described my feelings on the matter.Schadenfreude. Pleasure derived from another’smisfortune.
The mental image of Willow trying to convince everyone in the hospital that a man actually attacked her in her bedroom last night brought on that sense of schadenfreude more than ever. She would’ve looked and sounded completely crazy, because there was simply no way anyone could get in or out of the White House with all its security measures… or so theythought.
While the Secret Service and high-ranking government staffers were well aware of the tunnel system zigzagging below the White House and other government buildings, they didn’t know about the secret passages contained within the walls of thehouse.
Idid.
My father told me about them when I was a teenager. He even showed me how to access them. It was astoundingly simple, provided you had a valid tunnelkeycard.
All you had to do was head up the westernmost tunnel into the White House basement level, and then (provided you weren’t caught in the basement) you needed to locate the walnut-paneled wall in the smallest storage room and press on it extra hard. This would make a secret door swing open, and thenbam… you were in. Unfettered access to the WhiteHouse.
The secret passages ran throughout the entire building. Even the upstairs levels of the Executive Residence could be accessed via narrow staircases hidden within the walls, and there were multiple exits into the biggest rooms for those who dared to risk being spotted. Willow’s bedroom was no exception. A mirror in her spacious walk-in closet hid a door which quietly swung open to reveal a narrow passage. That was how I got in and out without anyone seeing or suspecting athing.
The secret passages were apparently built into the house during its initial construction, and only a few key people were allowed to know about them at the time. They fell into disuse in the 1930s, and after that nearly everyone forgot they existed. They weren’t in the original blueprints, either, for obvious reasons, so no one could look at those and figure out their existence fromthere.
At some stage back in the early 20thcentury, my great-grandfather became aware of the passages via a well-connected friend who owed him an enormous debt. The friend showed him everything in return for my great-grandfather forgiving the crippling debt, and from there it became yet another Thorne family secret, passed down from fathers to sons when they reached a certainage.
I wasn’t supposed to be told until I was thirty-five, but my father didn’t care about that particular rule. I wasn’t supposed to know about the Order until I was twenty-one, either, but he told me aboutthatfrom an early age too. Dad considered our family to be above the laws of any society, even the most secret ones, so when I was initiated into the Order three years ago, I already knew everything aboutit.
Just like I knew about all the hidden delights of the WhiteHouse.
“Logan! I had no idea you were coming over for breakfast. What a lovelysurprise.”
I glanced up to see my mother sweeping into the downstairs dining room. Tall, blonde and thin as a rake, she was dressed in a loose taupe top with billowy sleeves and a matching skirt. Her lips were painted with her trademark burgundy lipstick, and there were matching lip prints on the rim of the white espresso cup clutched in her righthand.
I held up my own cup. “Ran out of coffee at my place, so I figured I’d just come overhere.”
Even though our family’s elegant Edwardian estate in Kalorama was big enough to house over a hundred people if necessary, I’d chosen to live in a nearby apartment for the last two years. Having my own place afforded me the kind of privacy I preferred, and it was close enough for me to walk over and visit Thorne House whenever Iwanted.
“Well, I’m glad you came to visit instead of going to a café or ordering in. You know you’re always welcome here.” Mom sat down and waved her hand at a maid to bring her some fruit from a large silver platter on the end of the table. She smothered a yawn with one hand before speaking up again. “What time did you leave the ball last night? I had a look for you around ten, but I couldn’t findyou.”
I shrugged. “I wasthere.”
She let out a tinkling laugh. “I must’ve had one too many glasses of champagne. I could’ve sworn you leftearly.”
Technically, Ididleave the party early, so I could go and leave those messages in Willow’s room to freak her the fuck out, but I couldn’t tell Mom that. It might get back to her through the D.C. grapevine that my car was parked in its reserved spot on Jackson Place until three in the morning, and then she would know I lied aboutsomething.
I feigned a yawn. “No, I didn’t get back until late, so I barely slept. Hence the need for coffee.” I took a small sip, though I didn’t actually need it. My body was still pulsing with energy from last night’s wildadventure.
“Take some of our coffee beans with you when you leave. Glenda will get them for you.” Mom gestured at the maid, who nodded and ducked out of the room. “They’re from this amazing Australian place. Absolutely delicious. Strong,too.”
“Thanks.” I cleared my throat. “I figured I’d visit Chloe while I was here, too. I haven’t seen her for a fewdays.”
