Revolution

by Jenna Black

  The bed dipped under Kurt’s weight and he dragged Nate into his arms. Nate settled there with a sigh of relief.

  “They hate me, Kurt. The public, the press—even the board members.” The board had accepted him as Chairman in the immediate aftermath of Thea’s death, but since then they’d been fighting him tooth and claw over every insignificant little decision. It wasn’t completely unexpected, considering their first priority was to restore the status quo and Nate had no intention of letting that happen. And he was still legally underage, so he didn’t yet have the full powers of the Chairmanship, which meant he couldn’t throw his weight around like his father had. But what really bothered him was the way the board members eyed him with undisguised distrust and suspicion, as if he might turn out to be a maniacal robot taking orders from Thea after all.

  Kurt snorted. “Don’t those assholes know they’d all be dead if it weren’t for you?”

  It was true that if Nate and Nadia hadn’t stepped in—and hadn’t made their agreement with Belinski—Thea would no doubt have killed and replaced the entire board over time, but … “Somehow, Nadia seems to get all the credit for that,” Nate said, hoping he didn’t sound bitter or jealous. He didn’t begrudge her the praise, or her growing reputation as a hero. She had, after all, been the one who had actually succeeded in calling for the missile strike at great personal risk. And once she was reunited with Dante and the surviving Basement-dwellers finally agreed to lay down their arms, she had spearheaded relief efforts that strengthened her public image even more. She deserved every ounce of the love she was getting.

  Kurt hugged him tighter. “They’re scared of you right now,” he said gently. “Gun-shy because of Dorothy. They’ll get used to you.”

  That’s what Nate had been telling himself, and maybe Kurt was right and he wasn’t giving it enough time, but deep in his gut he feared the people of Paxco would never accept him. And it didn’t look like the rest of the Corporate States were too eager to accept him, either. Not all of the scathing opinions he’d heard voiced had been from Paxco citizens, and there were several formerly allied states who were now refusing to trade with Paxco as long as their Chairman was a Replica.

  “I don’t think they will, Kurt,” he said, feeling like he was being crushed under the weight of all that fear and hatred. “I’m afraid that Paxco will never be able to heal as long as I’m at the helm.”

  Kurt cupped Nate’s face in one hand and leaned over to kiss him, the warmth of his lips enough to thaw a little of the ice in Nate’s heart. Nate expected another pep talk, but Kurt surprised him, as he had a way of doing on a regular basis.

  “So what’s the alternative?”

  “Huh?” Nate asked, his mind sluggish beneath the burdens he’d been dragging around.

  “If you stepped down as Chairman, who’d take your place? Is it someone you think could fix the mess?”

  Nate frowned, thinking about it for the first time. Since he didn’t have kids, his heir would be whoever was his closest living relative on his father’s side. He had a bunch of cousins scattered around Paxco, but they weren’t first cousins, and he had no idea who his legal heir would be. He said as much to Kurt.

  “Maybe you should look into it. See who’s next in line.”

  Nate propped himself on one elbow and frowned at his boyfriend. “You want me to step down?” Kurt had been politically active enough that he’d been a member of the resistance movement. He was currently in prime position to influence Paxco’s future by influencing Nate. It was more power than any Basement-born revolutionary could possibly hope to attain. And if Nate stepped down, he would lose it all.

  “I want you to be happy,” Kurt said. “I’d love to see you take control of Paxco and make it a better place. But not if it makes you miserable.”

  Nate’s heart felt about three sizes too big for his chest. “That means a lot to me.”

  “So find out who would be Chairman if you stepped down. Chances are it’ll be someone you can’t stomach leaving in charge, but you can’t be sure until you check.”

  “I’ll get right on it,” Nate promised.

  “Right on it?” Kurt asked with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. “As in right this second?”

  Nate smiled and was happy to discover that he could muster a little energy after all.

  * * *

  Nadia snuggled contentedly into Dante’s arms. Her nose was sunburned and her hands were roughened with calluses thanks to the work she’d been doing in the Basement. Not that it was anything dangerous or even particularly strenuous in comparison to what most of the aid workers were doing, but she spent a lot of time darting from tent to tent in the staging area, helping open and label boxes of food and clothing for the refugees left homeless by the bombing.

  Dante’s work was more brutal as he helped with the massive effort to clean up the wreckage, an effort that would take months, if not years, to complete. He promised her he was being careful with his left arm, which was still in a splint, so she tried not to worry. His face was peeling and his hands were a mess, dirt embedded so deep under his fingernails he couldn’t get it out, but she didn’t mind at all having those rough hands skimming over her body.

  Dante bent to kiss her, and Nadia’s heart fluttered pleasantly. She had shed the last vestiges of Executive constraint, and she didn’t care who in her household knew that she was dating an Employee. If someone wanted to sell the story to the tabloids, she could live with the scandal. If Agnes was willing to leave the traditions of Executive society behind, then so was Nadia.

  In fact, the only concession she made to propriety was to keep her bedroom door open, and really that had nothing to do with Executive class values at all. It was simply the line past which her father refused to be pushed. Gerald Lake might be a shadow of his former self, but about one thing he was adamant.

  “You’re only sixteen, Nadia,” he’d told her. “I don’t care what you may or may not have done with that boy when you were in hiding, but I will not have you alone with him behind closed doors. Not in my house!”

  Nadia had given in because she knew it had nothing to do with Dante’s class status—there was no boy he’d allow her to be behind closed doors with, as long as he had any say in the matter. It was a parent thing, not a class thing. But the more time she spent with Dante, the more desperately she wanted to close that door.

  What could her father possibly do to her if she defied him? After the hell she’d been through, she felt practically invincible.

  She wrapped her arms around Dante’s neck, holding him close as she kissed his sun-chapped lips and felt the enticing play of muscles across his shoulders as he leaned over. His body was pressed against hers on the bed—on top of the covers, naturally—and the longing that thrummed through her veins was almost more than she could bear.

  “Let’s close the door,” she whispered when Dante came up for air.

  His dark eyes widened, and he pressed more tightly against her, letting her know how much he liked the suggestion. “But your father—”

  “—doesn’t get to tell me what to do anymore,” Nadia finished firmly. “I’m taking charge of my own life, and I’m not letting him or anyone else get in my way.”

  Dante kissed her again, long and deep. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he whispered against her lips.

  “Yes,” she said, with absolute conviction. Over the last few days, she’d thought a lot about what she wanted. She had changed since the days of her engagement to Nate, but though she was no longer a slave to convention, she didn’t think she’d ever shake her conservative, cautious center. Taking her relationship with Dante to the next level would entail risks, no matter how careful and conscientious they were, and it was not a step to be taken lightly. She wanted to take it anyway. “I want you.”

  She felt the tremor that rippled through him at those words and was glad to know this wasn’t just some casual thing for him. She’d never questioned him about any past girlfriends, but con
sidering he’d been a resistance spy working as an infiltrator in the Paxco security department, she seriously doubted he’d had much of a social life. She might not be his first—she was too chicken to ask—but she would not be one of many, either.

  Dante swallowed hard. “Then next time I come over,” he said breathlessly, “I’ll come prepared. Unless you’ve been taking some pills I don’t know about.”

  Nadia let out a frustrated groan. Apparently, he hadn’t learned his lesson since the last time she’d tried to fling herself at him.

  He smiled down at her. “It’s better this way,” he said, planting a light, teasing kiss on her lips. “Better to make a decision when we’re not in the heat of the moment.” His face sobered, and he brushed a strand of hair away from her face. “If we do this, you can’t ever go back.”

  “I don’t want to go back,” she assured him. “Besides, people already assumed I was sleeping with Nate. I don’t have much of a reputation left to protect.”

  Dante rolled off her, but didn’t go far, cuddling her in his arms once more. “Executive society would eventually forgive you for sleeping with Nate. They won’t be as forgiving about me.”

  “I don’t care,” Nadia said stubbornly. “I’m not going back to that life. Executive society can go to hell.”

  Footsteps sounded in the hallway outside, and despite her declaration, Nadia hastily sat up and put some distance between herself and Dante. Just because she was no longer terrified of scandal didn’t mean she wanted to broadcast her private life to the world.

  Crane appeared in the doorway and frowned mightily at what he saw. Nadia and Dante might have moved apart, but she suspected it wasn’t hard for the butler to guess what they’d been up to moments before he’d arrived.

  “Pardon the interruption, Miss Lake,” he said, his voice dripping with disapproval, “but you have another visitor.”

  “Who?” she asked. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

  “Nathaniel. Excuse me, Chairman Hayes.”

  “Wonder what he wants?” Nadia asked with a frisson of unease. She talked to Nate on the phone regularly, but their paths hadn’t crossed much in these early days of rebuilding Paxco.

  “Shall I tell him you’re indisposed?”

  Nadia rolled her eyes. “No, no. Tell him I’ll be right out.”

  Crane left with a haughty sniff, and Dante climbed off the bed. “I’m going to duck out the servants’ entrance,” he said.

  “That’s not necessary!” Nadia said. “It’s not like Nate doesn’t know about us.”

  Dante grinned sardonically. “Yeah, but there’s knowing and there’s knowing, if you know what I mean. And call me crazy, but I don’t think dangling it in his face is a good idea.”

  Nadia sighed quietly. Dante was probably right. He and Nate would never be friends, and Nate would probably never get over the little hint of irrational jealousy he’d always felt. His temper was considerably better controlled these days, but there was no reason to tempt fate.

  “All right,” she said reluctantly.

  Dante kissed her and smiled. “Just remember what we have planned for next time. Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”

  He was right: it did.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  On a Wednesday night, two weeks after Thea’s death and two days after Nate’s unexpected visit, Nadia allowed Crane to get the door while she waited in the small study where she had spent a lot of time doing schoolwork growing up. The living room just wouldn’t do for this particular conversation—she needed a room with a door she could close, but she didn’t want to send the wrong signal by using her bedroom. When she’d called to invite Dante over, he’d known immediately that something was wrong, though she’d refused to tell him about it on the phone. He probably wasn’t expecting tonight to be the “big night” despite their earlier decision, but why take chances? This was going to be difficult enough already.

  Her stomach churned with anxiety, and there was a dull throbbing behind her eyes that might very well turn into one hell of a headache soon. Dante must have seen the turmoil in her face the moment he set eyes on her, but he waited until Crane retreated before enveloping her in a hug.

  “What is it?” he asked.

  “Let’s sit down for a bit,” she said. “My answer’s going to take a while.” Assuming she could get herself to spit it out at all.

  They sat down together on an overstuffed love seat that ordinarily Nadia found very comfortable, a perfect spot to curl up and read. Tonight, though, she wanted to leap to her feet and pace the moment she sat down.

  “You’re worrying me,” Dante said, his eyes full of gentle concern.

  Nadia let out a grunt of frustration and ran her hand through her hair. It was an old habit that had worked fine with her long, silky hair, but not so much with her new heavily moussed ’do. She practically yanked her hair out by the roots when her fingers got stuck.

  “Did you know that security has foiled two assassination plots against Nate already?” she asked, knowing that the question would seem to be coming out of left field.

  Dante’s brow furrowed in an expression that combined puzzlement and concern. “I haven’t heard anything about it. Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine. Physically, at least. And they’ve managed to keep it out of the press so far.”

  “You’re never going to convince me to like the bastard, but he doesn’t deserve to be treated the way people are treating him. I don’t get why they don’t see the difference between him and one of Thea’s puppets.”

  Nadia suspected it was a hell of a lot easier for people who knew Nate to accept him than it was for total strangers. Strangers who knew that the original Nate—the real Nate, in their opinion—had died more than two months ago. As his father’s son and Thea’s creation, he stood for all the oppression of his father’s reign, and all the madness of Dorothy’s, and though Nadia had refused to admit it out loud, she suspected he was right and the people would never be able to see past it.

  “It doesn’t matter why,” she said sadly. “It just matters that they don’t.”

  Dante nodded. “I know. I’m sure it sucks to be him—and if you’d asked me a few months ago if I’d ever say something like that about an Executive, I’d have laughed you out of the room.”

  Her lips twitched into a smile despite the heaviness in her heart. Dante had had one hell of a chip on his shoulder once upon a time. He still made disparaging comments about lazy, good-for-nothing Executives every once in a while, but at least he now acknowledged that there were exceptions to the rule.

  “Don’t take this the wrong way,” Dante said. “If you have something you need to talk through, I’m always here for you. But why are we talking about Nate?”

  Nadia rubbed her eyes, wishing she could rub away the headache that was forming between them. She didn’t want to get to the point, because the more she thought about it, the more she knew what Dante was going to say—and the less she liked it. But putting it off wasn’t going to make it any easier.

  Nadia licked her lips, then recognized that she was still stalling and forced herself to talk. “Nate’s thinking of stepping down,” she said, though Nate had done more than just think about it. He’d made it clear when he’d come to see her that he was going to step down one way or another.

  Dante looked momentarily surprised, then asked, “Who would be Chairman if he did?”

  “Therein lies the rub,” she muttered.

  “Huh?”

  “He doesn’t have a clear heir. There are three cousins who might legitimately have a claim, but they’re all pretty distant relations, and Nate doesn’t think any of them would be a big improvement over his father.”

  “Nadia, where are you going with this?”

  “Nate consulted with some lawyers and the board of directors. It seems that in the absence of an undisputed heir, if Nate wants to step down, he can name his successor, as long as he picks someone the board approves of. Nate thinks they’d ap
prove of just about any high-ranking Executive if it would mean getting rid of him.”

  “Ungrateful assholes,” Dante contributed, and Nadia agreed with him. “So who is it he would name?” he asked, but she could see from the look in his eyes that he’d figured that out on his own. Not that she supposed it was that hard. Who else would Nate pick?

  “Me,” she said. A chill of panic ran down her spine, and the pain of her headache redoubled. Her skin felt clammy and cold, her ribs tight.

  It wasn’t the enormity of the job that scared her—she wouldn’t have all the powers of the Chairmanship until she was twenty-one and would have to have one or more trustees vetting her decisions until then. She hadn’t been her father’s heir until Gerri had died, but she had received the same education in economics and political science. Being a more conscientious student than Nate, she probably knew more about running a government than he did, even though he was two years older.

  Dante shook his head, looking disgusted. And hurt. “So much for giving Executive society the finger,” he said with undisguised bitterness. “Guess you won’t be needing me around anymore.”

  He tried to jump to his feet, but Nadia grabbed his arm and held on for dear life.

  “I don’t want to do it, Dante. I don’t want to be Chairman.” It was the exact opposite of everything she wanted for her life. “I told him no.”

  Dante stopped trying to get up, but his body was still alive with tension, his face still closed off. “But he talked you into it.”

  “No. I told him I wouldn’t do it. I can’t.” In the past couple of weeks, when she’d stopped living her life based on what she was supposed to do and started basing it on what she wanted to do, she’d had her first real taste of freedom. How could she possibly give all of that up and go back to her old life in the fishbowl?