Fitz leans forward, his eyes narrowing in on mine. I watch his jaw tic as he thinks, captivated by his short beard that’s just long enough, I imagine, to be that perfect combination of rough and soft.

“I forgot how much of a menace you can be.”

“Is that bad?”

“If I’m being honest, Parker.” He sort of hums my name. “It’s kind of hot.”

The flush on my cheeks undoubtedly is due to the cheap beer and not Fitz’s words, and certainly not the way his mouth smooths out into a lopsided grin that quickly fades.

“What?”

He shifts his lips back together in thought. “The campaign.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” I tell him. “I’ll handle that.”

Fitz sighs. “But do you have to? I mean…”

“Listen,” I begin. “What I need from all this, money can’t buy. It’s more about me being on the campaign, about me having the right kind of platform to get what I want.”

I could’ve figured out a way to go to the press hundreds of times over the last decade. But dropping this at the convention, in front of every important member of my father’s political party? That’s the kind of bomb I want to drop—nuclear.

“What do you need, Parker?”

I catch the tip of my tongue between my teeth. God, I don’t want to do this. Ever, but especially, not yet. Not right now. Because the truth, maybe it’s too much right now for Fitz. Maybe he’ll hop in the getaway car and leave me on the curb.

And maybe, I wonder, as my throat spasms together, I can’t tell him yet. But I can show him.

Slowly, I stand and step around the coffee table, feeling Fitz’s eyes follow me. I grab the bottom of my white shirt and lift it over my head.

“W-what are you doing?” Fitz asks.

By the time I’ve tugged it completely off, his face is red and riddled with more confusion.

He shifts awkwardly. “Parker?”

Reaching behind, I finger the hook of my bra. The truth is, the fabric would only obscure a small part of Fitz’s view, but since I can’t find the words, I want him to see all of it. Because this is only the surface of what they did to me.

This isn’t even the worst part.

“Parker?”

Before my bra loosens and my breasts fall free, I slowly spin, giving him my back.

And all of my scar.

My throat loosens now that I don’t have to face him, but I manage to find enough words. “What I want,” I breathe out, turning my head so he can hear me, “is revenge.”

After one second, my hands begin to shake.

After two seconds, I begin to tremble.