Beneath Beautiful by Allison Rushby

drama, and thought Jo had, too. She was surprised to hear Plum hadn't enjoyed herself. She'd always looked quite content with her groupies. To fill the awkward conversational gap, she began to open her mouth to say something about how much she loved Plum's art, thinking she really should mention it, but then closed it again, knowing Plum would see through her in a second. Meanwhile, Freya looked on at the exchange with interest as Plum ignored her completely.
    Plum shook her head slightly as she looked around the room. “Always with the white. I swear it's ruining my eyes.” She stalked over to the fridge, opened it, glanced inside, and then closed it again. “I remember your father was an M.P., or should I say is an M.P.?”
    Cassie's heart began thumping in her chest. She took a step forward. “He is. Though I'm hoping . . .”
    “That he won't find out, or that the media won't find out?”
    “What's an M.P.?” Freya asked.
    Plum's eyes flickered over to Freya momentarily. “Think Senator.”
    “Oh, okay,” Freya answered. “Wow.”
    As for Cassie, she was trying to work out whether Plum's words were meant as a statement, a warning, or some kind of threat. “Both,” she finally answered Plum's question.
    “I didn't know you and your father were close,” Plum mused.
    “We're . . .” Cassie attempted to explain, but then stopped, because she couldn't. Why was she bothering to hide this from her father and the media? Not to spare her father's feelings, that much was certain—sometimes she wasn't entirely sure he had any—no, it was because it was easier this way. Less fuss was always easier where her father was concerned. They'd always had an uneasy relationship, which boarding school and her mother's death had made even more strained. He was remarried now, but the real problem was not Cassie's stepmother—a well-groomed, well-educated brunette who knew her “place”, which was apparently supporting her husband in his every endeavor—but the fact that he had always been and would always be married to his image first and foremost. Now that she was an adult, Cassie's relationship with her father was based mostly on him bragging to journalists about his two Cambridge-educated daughters, her being an author, and his beautiful grandchildren (who truth be told he rarely saw, other than for a few hours at Christmas).
    “Look,” Cassie finally told Plum, “it's not that I think I'm doing anything wrong, but I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't say anything. I want to tell my father in my own time.”
    On the way over in the cab, Cassie had been wondering if she should flat out ask Cameron to do James's interview in the hope that James would then simply return to London. She was worried that if he didn't get his interview soon and found out about her relationship with Cameron that he might opt for a different story entirely. Namely, hers. She'd decided not to ask, however, as she thought doing so might interfere with Cameron's work. Now, with Plum raising the idea of the media once more, she grew increasingly nervous about James's presence and her two worlds colliding. The thought of asking for his interview was raised in her mind again. It might be a good idea after all.
    Plum smiled. “Believe me, I do understand. My own father was none too pleased I was hanging about with Cameron Callahan, as you can imagine. It was . . . difficult for me to stand firm. And to become the woman I needed to be.” She stood in the middle of the room now, owning it. “So, Cameron seems very taken with this idea of his. Did he tell you how pushed for time he is? He really shouldn't be adding anything in to the exhibition at this point.”
    Cameron hadn't told Cassie this of course, but Cassie wasn't going to admit as much. What did Plum care, anyway? Why was she even here? She and Cameron weren't an item. Why was she worrying about what he did with his time and exhibition?
    The phone rang once more and Cassie, for one, was glad