Page 5 of The Love You Fight For
I smile pleasantly and stick out a limp hand. Instead of giving it a weak shake like I expected, Ashton takes my hand between both of his and holds it hostage while he grins down at me. He wants me to be uncomfortable, to pull away in disgust, so I don’t.
“Ashton. So wonderful to see you.”
He knows I’m lying.
“Looking beautiful as always, Samantha.”
When he finally drops my hand, I resist the urge to rub it on my skirt. I don’t want his grime to stain it.
“I thought you were clerking for a judge in Manhattan, Ashton. Isn’t being Daddy’s campaign manager considered a conflict of interest? Challenging the integrity and impartiality of the judiciary, and all that?”
His grin doesn’t falter. He just nods and grins as if he’s talking to a child.
“Samantha, that was years ago. I’ve decided my particular talents would be better suited here, helping Senator Harper make a difference in the world. This is my true calling.” Ashton turns his smarmy grin onto my father. “Working as your campaign manager is the opportunity of a lifetime, sir. I won’t let you down.”
Barf. I want to gag him with the crimson-red tie around his neck.
“I know you won’t, son. And with Samantha as your assistant, you should have all you need to help manage a successful campaign.”
My brow furrows slightly as I bounce my eyes between Ashton and my father. I clear my throat, but I don’t let my smile drop.
“Assistant? I thought I would be canvassing the college campuses again and running your social media.”
That was what we’d discussed. That’s what I did on his last two reelection campaigns for senator. That’s why he was able to pull so much of the youth vote. He’ll never admit it, but it’s a big part of why he won.
Because of me.
I try not to think too much on it; otherwise, I’ll start to feel guilty, and guilt is a useless emotion.
“You’re not in college anymore, Samantha, and I’ve decided your talents would be better suited as Ashton’s assistant.”
My father’s voice is upbeat—kind, even—but I can tell he wants to smirk at me. He relishes any opportunity to assert his dominanceover me. To make me feel disposable. A pawn in his dangerous game.
I swallow my pride, smile brightly, and bat my eyelashes at Ashton.
“I think we’ll be a great team,” I say cheerily. “Daddy is sure to win with you managing the campaign, Ashton.”
His eyelid twitches. I think he wants to laugh. Instead, he smiles.
“Especially with you as myassistant,” he drawls, putting emphasis on the last word.
As mysubordinate, he implies.
I hate him.
My father slaps his hand on Ashton’s shoulder, then places his other hand on my back. To anyone standing outside the conference room, it would look like a jovial moment. I just feel trapped.
“I’m sure you’ll both make me proud.” My father turns his attention to me.
There’s a warning in his eyes. I know it well. It’s the one he’d give me when I was a child and he commanded me to behave. To not embarrass him. If I thought I could get away with sneering at him right now, I’d do it.
“I won’t let you down, Daddy.”
There’s a warm smile on my lips, my voice smooth as honey, but my eyes are frigid. He doesn’t seem to care.
Ashton and I stay rooted to the spot as my father leaves us in the conference room, and it’s not until he turns the corner that I finally let the rigidity in my spine loosen.
“Are you ready to get started?” Ashton asks, turning his fake smile on me. “I’ve got some plans I’m sure you’ll need to see, and I should probably share my calendar with you so you’re aware of all upcoming events.”
