Órion Fantone

The day broke early—in truth, I hadn’t managed to sleep at all. That girl with the golden curls had infiltrated my thoughts, and every time I closed my eyes, I could see her—her shy smile and even the little dimple on her cheek when she smiled. I’d only seen her once, and still, something inside me felt different, like my whole body was desperate to smell her again or at least get close to her. I threw the covers aside and sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand through my hair and taking a deep breath. It wasn’t the time for distractions. I needed to focus on the elections and get reelected to continue my projects.

I got up and went straight to the bathroom. I turned on the shower as soon as I stripped off my clothes, and under that warm water, I remembered everything I’d done to get here—how I’d dedicated my life to politics and how negligent I had been with my dear Mary. She was so sweet and so immature when we met in college. Then came the news of her pregnancy, followed by our marriage. There hadn’t even been time to build something solid, something that made my heart race. Maybe our romance had been more out of necessity than love, and that’s why I ended up neglecting her, failing to see the incredible woman at my side, being a terrible husband.

I placed both hands on the wall as the water ran through my hair, the sound of it hitting the floor bringing a strange calm and making me relive the past.

Mary smiled at me. She had a picnic basket full of treats. Excitedly, she kissed my cheek before asking if I liked her polka-dot dress. She didn’t even look like a future first lady. I nodded, still staring at the blank sheet on my desk. I was working on a speech, and nothing would get me out of that office that day.

"There's still plenty of time. Just for today, go out with your family," she pleaded for attention. "Melissa needs you. We need you and—"

"Honey, I’m busy. You can go with our daughter, have fun." I didn’t even look at her, too focused on the damn speech.

"Of course, we’re only good for taking pictures to show off the happy family we pretend to be. What a big lie."

"Are you starting again? For God’s sake, Mary." I set the pen down on the table and crossed my arms to look at her. "Not today. I’m nervous. The elections are close, and you know how important this is to me."

"Fine. I respect your time. I just miss the young man I met in college, who loved sneaking off to watch the stars or just to see a movie."

"Those days are over. I don’t have the age or time for that nonsense anymore."

I opened my eyes, once again feeling the weight of guilt on my shoulders. She deserved more, and I had been so focused on the damn elections that I didn’t realize what I was losing—how I was neglecting my wife and daughter. But now it was too late, and even though I wanted to be a good father to Melissa, I couldn’t even look her in the eyes. How could I, knowing her mother died because of me? That bullet was meant for my chest, not hers. I ran my hand over the left side of my chest before turning off the shower. That pain would never go away. All I could do was keep existing, trying to maintain a miserable life and showing everyone how Orion Fantone is a powerful, emotionless man.

"You’re late." As I stepped out of the bathroom with a towel around my waist, drying my hair with another, I saw my assistant. She had a folder in her hands. "You should already be in the office. I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour."

"Did you find out what I asked?" I said, walking to my closet.

"What do you want with that girl, Orion?" I took a dark blue blazer from the hanger and looked at my assistant. She was standing right in front of me.

"What did you find?" I raised an eyebrow, too restless. I was dying to know more about the golden curls. Katarina opened the folder and pulled out a sheet of paper.

"Abigail Lacoste, niece of Dakota Lacoste, the reporter who’s always chasing you." She stopped reading for a moment, watching me, but soon continued. "She’s twenty-three, in her fourth semester of psychology, and just earned a scholarship to a college in California."

"A scholarship? She—"

"Yes, she passed the test with honors and got a scholarship to the same college your daughter attends. Even better—it’s a scholarship your government awarded."

I looked down, feeling the weight of my assistant’s words. Golden curls was almost the same age as my daughter—not a woman, but a young girl just starting her life. Someone impossible for me. Someone I needed to stay far away from if I didn’t want to ruin my campaign.

"Do you need anything else about her, or can we get back to our lives as if you weren’t interested in a girl your daughter’s age?"

"I’m not interested." I shrugged, opening a drawer to grab a tie. "It was just curiosity." Katarina let out a laugh.

"I’ve known you for over five years, Governor." She put the paper back in the folder. "You might fool others, but not me. I saw the way you looked at her. You liked the girl."

"Yes, I liked her, but I thought she was a woman, not a teenager. Her clothes and the way she acted didn’t make her seem that young."

"Now that you know, stay away from her." She turned on her heels, leaving my closet. "Far away!" she shouted.

I stayed in the closet, got dressed, and headed straight to the office with my assistant. Those facts stayed in my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about that girl, but now I was sure she was impossible for me. A governor interested in a girl years younger? A girl who was going to study at the same college as his daughter? It had to be some cosmic joke. Already in the car, my assistant was talking about all the meetings I had that morning, but I couldn’t pay attention. All I wanted was to understand why, with just one glance, I felt so hypnotized—so intoxicated by that young woman with golden curls.

"Are you listening to me?" she asked.

"Yes, go on." I leaned my head back against the car seat and closed my eyes.

"Did your daughter say anything about the college?"

"Melissa already knows everything and she’ll do as I say. My daughter hates being without her heiress perks—she won’t want to live without her credit cards."

"The way you say it, it sounds like you’re buying your daughter." I opened my eyes and gave a bitter smile. That’s the sad truth—everything I do is an attempt to buy Melissa’s love and maybe her forgiveness. "Not everything can be solved with money, Orion."

"Maybe not, but for now, it’s calming down my daughter’s tantrums."

Katarina shook her head in disapproval but said nothing, going back to reviewing my schedule. I didn’t want things to be like this. But running from guilt was easier than facing Melissa, and that was eating me alive—like a man who seems to have everything, but in truth, has nothing—not even a good night’s sleep.