Chapter 5

URSULA

I LEANED back in my comfortable office chair at one of the top marketing firms in Nevada. I wouldn't call it my dream job, but it was a step in the right direction. Securing the position after graduation had been another piece of the path to getting out on my own.

Without this job I'd still be living with my parents surrounded by security. At least at that point I only had Knighty and occasionally one of his friends when he needed time away from me. I tried not to let my brain think about what he did and who he did it with every time he left me with someone else.

I'd considered getting my flirt on with his friend just to make him jealous, but I couldn't force myself to do it. After we shared our kiss, it was like something more had developed between us even if he was running off to his girlfriend or wife. I didn't want to flirt with anyone else.

Even then as I zoned out during our weekly meeting on the fourth floor, which in the memo management called high importance, it was because I recognized Knighty was a few feet away. He'd shown me a great time at the pool this weekend, even if it wasn't what I had in mind when he said we'd be getting out. But it seemed like we'd reached an agreement. I wasn't sure how it would play out, but I knew on the other side of the closed conference room door he was sitting at my desk waiting for me. And I liked that. Too much.

It was nice to have him back.

"This project will be big. Current estimates project it will increase our profit by twenty-five percent in this quarter alone," our department manager said as her eyes fell on each of us, looking for excitement over her words.

I smiled even though I missed the entire first part of her speech as I thought about Ferris. I scribbled in my notebook twenty-five percent profit increase so it looked as if I was busy taking notes.

When she was happy we were sufficiently excited about the new client, she continued. "The project will require teams and I want to make sure we not only have our best people on it, but fresh eyes as well, so fresh faces in the office can get experience. Who wants in on this one?"

Four or five hands shot up around the table and I hesitated but raised mine. This could be my chance to make a name for myself, get experience, and grow in the company. I wanted to make a name for myself for my excellent work not just because I was a president's daughter.

"I'll do it," I said when I worried she had overlooked my raised hand as Melinda, the manager made note of those of us who expressed interest.

Her smile met my own. "Great. A good initiative, Yuri."

I lowered my hand when I was sure she had my name on the list and smiled, excited to get started on my first official project as a marketing assistant. My expectations weren't super high. I imagined I'd be getting coffee and making copies, but I planned to prove my worth to the team and, with hard work, move up the ranks. Marketing assistant today, but marketing executive tomorrow. Or three to five years, whichever one was more realistic.

Odds were on the second option.

"Those of you on the team will get started next week although news of the new contract broke this morning. It's time to grow thick skin people because this project will catch flak. It's important to remember it may look bad at first, but things will calm as they always do."

Huh?

Other employees at the table murmured, a few of them shaking their heads and complaining about the crazies in the world.

"What will the campaign entail?" the guy next to me asked, and I breathed in a sigh of relief after berating myself for not listening before I agreed to be on the team.

The leader smiled and flicked her computer screen. "We're going beyond the basics of cigarettes. Our client wants us to highlight their brand-new product coming out later this year..." She let her sentence trail off, hiking up expectations and causing me to hold my breath. "Flavored cigarettes."

...

ON THE PROJECTION screen behind her, a cartoon image of cigarette cartons in bright fun colors lit up the screen.

Flavors named Hawaiian Hibiscus, Pink Passionfruit, and Cool Caribbean.

My mouth dropped open in horror.

No way. Was it April Fool's Day? Surely, I'd found myself on one of those hidden camera shows where they'd jump out and say surprise at any second. Was Ashton Kutcher hiding in the hallway?

"I just love the names," my manager continued flipping through slides of cigarette boxes posing with different landscapes. "They're giving us a lot to work with on this one."

My subconscious grumbled. Holy crap, think of what the headlines will say if anyone found out I'm part of this campaign.

White House daughter supports underage smoking.

The Pane family kills teenagers.

It would be a political nightmare.

I'd been halfway into a panic attack, trying to control my breathing, when the large window that took up one wall of the conference room rattled as something hitting it hard. I laid my head low ducking for cover as a second object hit the window with a thud and splat.

"What the hell?" Melinda said from her podium.

When the window glass didn't shatter, I rolled back my chair and stood up before walking to the window and peering outside to the ground.

Four floors below a mass of people had congregated and set up camp outside the building's front doors. Signs were held high above their heads, but the words were too small to read from our location as they jostled in the air. A row of them chanted something and circled in the back of the group.

A white round object flew at the window and I flinched as the egg contacted the glass, burst open, and then a runny egg goop smeared down the pane.

"Crap."

The employees, me included, huddled at the windows looking out as someone using a megaphone began a rhyming chant.

When the topic was important, protesters always amassed. My time in the White House should have made me immune to such sights, but my stomach rolled from being on this side of the glass rather than the other.

The conference room door opened, but I couldn't draw my head away from the scene outside to bother discovering who interrupted our meeting.

"Ursula," his deep voice called my name, and I flinched. "It's time to go."

It appeared we weren't the only people who noticed the commotion.

I lowered my head and stepped away from the window. For possibly the first time since he became my hired guard, I listened to Ferris without question or complaint. It would be a magnificent feat alone to get me out of this building without my picture in half the newspapers tomorrow morning. And if he pulled it off, he didn't need me giving him any crap to get it done.

In fact if it worked, tomorrow morning I'd be thanking him for keeping me out of the tabloids.

It was time to head home for the afternoon and decide how to get myself out of the mess I'd created before word of it reached my parents.