POV: ELENA CROSS
It starts with screaming. Not mine, even though I am close to doing so myself.
No.
It is the screams of protesters. Outside the hotel ballroom, again. Same signs. Same chants. "Cross out corruption!" Over and over. Louder now. Closer. The sound cuts through the music like a knife through silk.
I would laugh at the world play if it wasn't so damn infuriating.
“Mrs. Cross, maybe we should wrap this up,” my campaign manager whispers beside me, face tight, as he keeps gaining out the window.
I nod once, curt. Give a smile to the rich couple I have been sweet-talking for twenty minutes. “Excuse me, I need to step away. Just for a moment.”
They nod, distracted by the noise. Everyone is distracted.
I storm out the side door, heels clicking too fast against the marble floor. The moment I’m in the hallway, I rip the earpiece out.
“I said get them back! Where the hell is security?” I snap at no one in particular. My assistant practically jogs to keep up.
“They are doing what t
