I'm half asleep when my curtains are thrown open and sunlight is burning my skin. I sit up, shielding my eyes against the bright sunlight. "What the hell?" I groan, squinting past the golden rays. Jasper stands at the head of my bed, an eyebrow arched. My eyes widen and I almost fall out of my bed. "What are you doing in my room?"

The previous days come back to me in a rush. It makes me a little dizzy.

Jasper Dalton is staying in my house. When the realization hit me in my office, I rushed to my mother, who explained that it was "the least I could do". And when I reasoned that he could stay in a hotel, she said that he didn't like any of the hotels here in Oceancove. That gave me the impression that he's a snob.

"Get dressed. You have a press conference today," Jasper informs me. I sigh, forcing a polite smile onto my lips.

"Thank you. I'll get ready. Now will you please leave?" I say, stepping out of bed. Jasper's eyes travel down my body and a feeling of self-consciousness washes over me. "Is... is something wrong?"

"No," Jasper says, his eyes meeting mine again. "You better clean up nice, Revaz."

My cheeks heat up and I drop my gaze to the floor. Jasper exits and I blow my cheeks out, shuffling towards the bathroom.

. . .

Taking a deep breath, I smooth out my gray skirt, smiling politely at all the reporters in front of me. My eyes find Jasper's, who nods briefly at me. "Okay..." I say slowly into the mic. "I'm sure all of you have questions." With that, reporters yell questions at me. The sound is somehow worse than being at a concert. I shift slightly in my seat, keeping my ear out for an easy question to answer.

"Who is your son?" A reporter yells out. Bingo.

"My son is Ezra Golding," I say into the microphone and everyone instantly falls quiet. "He's seventeen years old. He's a wonderful young man and I'm glad I have the chance to get to know him better." I watch a few reporters scribble that down before the questions are hurled at me once again.

I wait a few seconds for another easy question. "Why is Mister Golding here?" Another reporter yells.

"To get to know his mother," I say. "Humans are naturally curious. Ezra is no expectation. He wanted to know his family." There's some nods in the crowd.

"If Mister Golding is seventeen, that means you got pregnant at sixteen, correct?" A reporter towards the front asks. My throat is dry all of a sudden. I know where this is going.

Clearing my throat, I lean forward. "That would be correct," I say.

"Did your family know about this pregnancy?" The same reporter asks. My eyes dart to my mother, who sits in the back of the conference room. Her expression is blank, giving nothing away.

"No. Nobody knew." Except his father.

"Who is the father?" A reporter calls out. Everyone whispers amongst themselves, making my stomach twist. "Who is the father?" Another reporter repeats.

"Uh..." I say slowly, my eyes darting to Jasper, who is staring off at some distant point.

"Is it true that the father of Ezra Golding is Andrew Conan?!" Someone calls out. And I freeze.

Andrew Conan.

There is a roar of activity. People speculate and hurl more questions at me. Meanwhile, my vision goes black at the edges. My heart pounds and I struggle to bring air into my lungs. Everyone asks questions, but I can't bring myself to answer.

No, no, no.

Andrew Conan.

I thought I'd never have to hear that name again. But now it's echoing in my ears.

"This press conference is over," Jasper says into the microphone, grabbing my arm. He pulls me up and with him, pushing through the crowds and shouts. We hurry out of the building, towards the SUV that brought us here. Jasper forces me to face him and I feel tears prick my eyes. "God, Revaz. Do I have to do everything for you?" he says sharply. I flinch.

"I'm sorry," I say, trying to hide how thick my voice is. "Ezra's father—Andrew—is a terrible topic for me. I just... wasn't expecting to have to talk about him."

"I didn't ask for your goddamn life story. I asked if I have to do everything for you," Jasper says pointedly. My gut flares and I ball my fist. I shake my head, humiliation wrapping itself around my bones. "Words, Miss Revaz."

I squeeze my eyes shut, digging my fingernails into my wrist. "No. You don't have to do everything," I say through barred teeth.

"So then act like it," Jasper says. He opens the car door and motions me inside. I slide in and he slides in next to me, adjusting his tie. "I will be observing you and Ezra these next few days. Maybe I can work a miracle and fix this mess you've made." I face the window, hiding the disgust contorting my features.

It's official: I fucking hate Jasper Dalton.

***

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