«I feel like there's something wrong with your solution, Senator Lindt,» May said while they left the hotel.
He had spread his arms and offered to carry her. May, as innocent as she was, had accepted. Then, when she felt his chest against her shoulder and saw his face from up close, she regretted it.
It wasn't the first time he carried her, so why was she so worked up? Her face and ears were red, her heart was racing against her chest, and her teeth were tormenting her lower lip because she couldn't think straight with him so close.
She could admire his long eyelashes from that close. It wasn't such a bad situation, if not for her body responding to feelings she didn't know before. It wasn't the first time she met a handsome man, so it wasn't just about the looks. Most likely, it was about his charming ways.
«What is so wrong, Miss Thorne?» he replied, mimicking her calm but ironic tone.
«What if we're seen together?»
«What of it?»
«It would be a huge scandal!»
«Don't worry, no one will leave the terrace on the roof, trust me. They'll be occupied by what's happening up there.»
«What is happening? Do you mean the Governor's first speech? My uncle's speeches are known to be boring, Senator Lindt.»
«This one won't be boring,» he chuckled.
«How can you be so sure?»
«Just trust me, okay? If anyone sees us together, I'll take responsibility and marry you.»
«That's not what I meant!» she said, wincing in his arms and becoming even redder. She was starting to resemble a pepper, which was funny.
He chuckled, amused by her fierce reaction. He had seen her poker face while her cousin said something surely annoying. Yet, when he was the one talking, she knew how to show her emotions.
«Is it really all right to leave now?» she added, then.
His heart skipped a beat, filling with warmth as soon as it returned to work. She was worried for him; wasn't that absolutely adorable?
«The newly appointed Governor gave his speech. Now, the journalists are asking their questions. I have no reason to stay any further,» he said.
«What if someone notices you're gone?»
«No one will notice,» he repeated. And, before she could ask again how he could be so sure, he added: «they are all focused on something else, right now. You'll eventually find out from the press.»
As they chatted, they had reached the underground parking.
Morgan was already in the passenger seat of Chirs Lindt's car, next to the driver ready to go. He was watching something on his phone with the earphones, laughing from time to time.
May opened the door for Chris and for herself, and he leaned her on the seat with a careful move. She followed his movements, bowing her head while crossing the entrance not to cause any incident. Once seated, she moved to the side so Chris didn't need to walk around the car to get in.
«We're going to the Prime Minister's residence first,» Chris told the driver before returning his focus to May. He could observe her from so close, and she had nowhere to run away in that small space. His smile made Morgan roll his eyes.
As for the guests of the gala, they weren't so calm and composed.
Alistair Thorne was on the stage, nervously staring back at the crown of reporters. He loosened the knot of his tie to get more air, and he moved his eyes to the side in search of his father.
He was in a situation he wouldn't ever expect.
«Governor, how do you comment on your daughter's behaviour?» one brave reporter had asked first.
«Watch your tongue!» was the only reply Alistair could summon. What had Lorelei done, now? She knew how to cause trouble not less than May, just that Lorelei knew how to act nicely and be forgiven for every little turmoil.
But no one had ever dared ask him about it on such a public occasion. He was being re-elected as Governor of White Capital. Why were they asking him about his daughter? Shouldn't they be more focused on... Let's say, his political agenda?
«I'm not making up anything,» the reporter replied. «Didn't you see the pictures all over the net? Most social media are reposting it with noisy titles. Your daughter was seen drunken in a not-so-classy nightclub.»
Alistair signed silently. It was that kind of trouble. He could just say that it was normal for young people to have fun sometimes, but he knew their society wouldn't allow it. His daughter just needed to vent, from time to time.
His little princess shouldn't be forced to bear stress all the time, right?
But something told him not to say anything.
Later, his father would scold him for that. But it was better being told he's an incompetent than being yelled at for the wrong words.
Where did they even get the pictures from?
Most of the reporters opened their social media, seeing as trending topic pictures of Lorelei Thorne getting drunk and kissing random guys in the dark.
If it were anyone else, that piece of news wouldn't have been such a scandal. However, the Thorne family was akin to royalty. Lorelei Thorne was a princess everyone looked up to, so the newspapers would feed on every her mistake until selling the last copy.
The profile publishing the news first was from a mysterious portal, PaparazziLuv. They would often come out with interesting articles about everyone, from superstars to politicians. And they were known for being more reliable than most paparazzi out there. They would double-check everything before making it public.
While Alistair was on the stage, frozen in place and looking for a way to change the topic, Lorelei's hands were trembling. She was on the side, and she stepped back as soon as she heard her name. She wanted to hide, and there was a lump in her throat. Who dared take pictures of her? She was the Governor's daughter and the Prime Minister's granddaughter! Who dared look at her long enough to notice what she was doing!
In the back of her head, a weird feeling resurfaced. She remembered the moment she had pushed May into the pool. She had felt a chill run down her back, but she had assumed it was out of excitement. That brat's suffering always made her feel better, so she couldn't think of a reason to stop.
Was there someone looking out for May? Even the timing was so odd.