"There you are!" Cynthia practically sang as she looped her arm with mine. "I've been looking for you all night."

"I've been avoiding you all night," I admitted with a sigh before giving her a considering glance. "So, how upset are you?"

"Why would I be upset?" She shrugged theatrically. "I don't think it's morally offensive for a woman to express an opinion, though I suppose some might say I'm biased."

I closed my eyes in apprehension. "And how bad is it?"

"How bad it what?" Cynthia asked coyly.

I turned to face her, freeing my arm from her hold. After all of the fighting this morning and the truly ridiculous amount of paparazzi following me around all afternoon, I was done playing games. Especially ones for which I didn't even know the bloody rules.

"The trouble I'm in," I said plainly.

Catching my tone, Cynthia dropped the playful act though she still wasn't particularly helpful. "The gag rule doesn't extend to you."

"So I've been informed," I muttered as I turned back toward the stage where Tom was set to give a few remarks thanking the generous donors and gently encouraging the not-so-generous ones as well.

"Which is why you sent those tweets."

I drew in a steadying breath before allowing my chest to deflate in a shrug. "I read the comments—I know I'm not supposed to, but I did anyways—and I just spouted off. It was a stupid mistake."

"No, it wasn't."

I stilled as I felt Cynthia's scrutinizing gaze.

"You've been in the publishing world long enough to learn to ignore Internet trolls baiting you," she elaborated, her eyes narrowing as if she really were able to read a person like a book. "You knew he couldn't say anything, but that you could. You may have been angry with Tommy, but you still wanted to help him and the foundation. That's why you did it."

I ground my teeth but said nothing, knowing full well she'd see straight through any denial I could cook up. Perhaps she really was part of MI6.

"And that's also why I'm not furious with you," she added as she looped her arm around mine once more. "But from now on, no more rogue tweets. You've got a well-built brand that we'll use as your platform. All public statements run by me first, got it?"

I glanced down at the petite yet formidable woman beside me and nodded. "Got it."

"Nice hair cut by the way," she smirked up at me.

"Thanks," I blushed.

"Just had to have a bit more attention from the press, didn't you?" She teased.

I rolled my eyes. "I would never. Don't you know they're the enemy?"

Cynthia snorted at that. "Please tell me Mum isn't back on that train again."

She must have read into my silence because she pulled me in closer to her. "She didn't mean anything against you by it."

I worked my jaw, working up the courage to ask her the question that had been plaguing me since the morning. "Would you judge me if I said I missed it?"

Cynthia shook her head. "Not at all. It was your profession. I'd miss mine terribly if I had to step away from it."

"And I have to—step away from it, I mean. There's no way I could..." I nodded solemnly at the look of pity she offered me. "Margaret said about the same."

I hesitated again before asking her my next question. "Are you—you're not going to tell your mum, are you? That me sending those tweets wasn't an accident?"

"So long as it doesn't happen again, I don't see a reason for her to need to know."

"... And Tom?" I couldn't help but cringe as I asked.

Cynthia stilled slightly. "I don't keep secrets from my brother."

I nodded in understanding and turned my focus back to the empty stage.

"And you shouldn't either," she added.

I snorted. "I'm not the one you should be having the conversation with."

Cynthia patted my arm mock-consolingly. "Oh trust me, Tommy and I have already had a little chat on the subject."

I glanced over at her in questioning, but right as I opened my mouth to speak applause rang out as Tom strutted out onto the stage. I turned again to face forward and smiled tightly as I joined the rest of the room in clapping for him.

"Thank you so much," his voice resounded through the microphone. "And thank you so much for coming out tonight. Lending a Hand is a truly amazing organization committed to fighting to end homelessness, and we at Legacy Works are proud to partner with them."

We all broke out into applause, and Tom nodded good-naturedly as he waited to speak again.

"Tonight is a night of celebration and of gratitude," he looked about the room and grinned cheekily. "And of course of giving."

I nudged Cynthia with my elbow. "You give him that line?"

She shrugged humbly. "I thought it had a nice ring to it."

"And that is why I am excited to announce the start of a brand new program, in partnership with Lending a Hand," he gestured to the side of the stage where the other organization's founder waved to the crowd. "Together, we're going to work to ensure all recent arrivals to the UK have the housing security they need to build new lives and contribute to their new communities."

My palms began to prickle as I enthusiastically joined in the extended applause. Cynthia, beside me, froze.

"As a wise woman recently told me," Tom added over the raucous. "We're on the right side of this. And we're on it together!"

With that, the founder of Lending a Hand jumped on stage and the two embraced before applauding each other and exiting the stage.

Despite our closeness, I still had to lean over and practically shout in Cynthia's ear to be heard. "Well, that certainly wasn't in the talking points you sent over!"

"No," she recovered as she slowly joined in the applause. "It certainly was not. That last one another one of your quotes?"

I could feel the heat wash over my chest and up my neck. "I just said it to him privately! I didn't mean for him to—"

Cynthia shook her head in amusement. "You should be a writer."

"I am."

I immediately covered my mouth with my hand, not meaning to have blurted the words.

Cynthia's brows lifted and she appeared about to respond when the phone she held in her hands—which I belatedly recognized to be Tom's—began to ring.

"The two of you are going to be the death of me, I swear," she muttered before swiping the screen and raising the phone to her ear. "Uncle Henry, hello..."