Chapter One

December

"You did what?" I stare at my stepsister, Jillian, in bewilderment, convinced this is it. This is the time she's gone too far and dragged me with her. I'm going to spend Christmas with a cellmate who makes beer from fermented apples in a bathroom stall and shivs people in the cafeteria for an extra bologna sandwich.

"I sent your photo and designs in with my application," Jill says with a shrug, tossing her long blonde hair off her shoulders. "It's your dream internship, not mine."

"I thought that's what you said." I collapse onto the edge of my twin bed, my legs too weak to hold me up. My fingers land against my overheated cheeks as I gape at her, not even sure where to begin with this one.

Jillian has been getting me into trouble since the day we met. We've been inseparable since my mom went to work for her dad when I was seven. Our parents fell in love, and the rest is history. Mostly.

It's complicated.

My mom died three years after they got married, leaving me behind. Jillian's dad became my guardian. Jillian and I get along great, but her dad and me? Not so much. He loves me, but I think he wishes I were more like Jillian and less like me. We're both curvy, though I think I'm more mousey than beautiful like Jillian. But that's not the problem. He's the freaking mayor. She's everything a politician's daughter should be. I'm not even remotely close.

She's vivacious and graceful and can make a friend out of anyone. I'm clumsy and awkward and never know what I'm going to say or do next. Maybe that wouldn't be a problem if her dad, Cory, wasn't a career politician, but he is…and I've inadvertently made it harder for him since I was a little girl.

I'm a freaking disaster. My mouth and awkwardness have thrown a wrench in the works more than once. Like the time I accidentally told a reporter that I thought he was doing a terrible job at addressing a lot of the issues facing the city. It wasn't what I meant to say! Or the time I spilled an entire plate of spaghetti Bolognese on the governor. Or the time I basically knocked Senator Howard down the steps, and someone caught a picture of his toupee flying off.

Naturally, when I asked Cory for help getting the internship at Daphne Parrish & Co, he blew me off. But when Jillian asked for help securing the same internship opportunity, he jumped to pull strings to get her in at the hottest plus-size fashion house in Los Angeles. He wants to make friends with Alaric and Blaze Parrish, not enemies, and he's afraid I'll screw everything up for him. Alaric and Blaze are billionaires who've taken the world by storm since they took over the company after their mother, Daphne, died five years ago. Cory needs that kind of star power on his side if he wants to make a run for governor during the next election cycle.

All Jillian had to do was fill out the paperwork, and the internship was hers. Her dad will lose his mind when he finds out about this. And he will find out. He always finds out. He knows everything about everything.

"Call them and tell them there was a mix-up, and the wrong photo got attached to your application," I demand.

"Too late," Jillian sing-songs, dancing across our tiny one-bedroom apartment on her tiptoes. "I sort of sent it a week ago. You start tomorrow."

I stare at her in horror. "I do not."

"You do." Her bright blue eyes meet mine in the mirror across the room. "You're going to be me for winter break, December."

I had a feeling she was going to say that.

"I'm going to throw up."

"No, you aren't." She spins around to face me, her lips pursed in a look I know all too well. Jillian Rhett has made up her mind.

My dang soul quivers in terror.

"He isn't taking something else from you just because you aren't the perfect freaking mouthpiece for his stupid career," she growls, her eyes flashing fire. "You've worked your butt off for this internship. You earned it. If he won't pull strings to get you in the door, you'll go in as me."

"Jillian, it's a bad idea," I whisper, even though I adore her for trying. Her dad may not believe in me, but Jillian's faith hasn't ever wavered.

"It's not a bad idea. It's my Christmas present to you." She smirks, flashing her dimples in triumph. "You can't say no when it's a gift."

"Criminal impersonation isn't a gift, Jill," I say, laughing despite myself. Only she would think something this outrageous counts as a present.

"It is when it's what you've been dreaming about for years. You're dying to go to work for Alaric Parrish."

She's not wrong. I've been obsessed with him since I met him when I was seventeen. We met at a party Jillian's dad threw, though I doubt he remembers me. I was so anxious I'd say something wrong that I decided to avoid the risk and slipped outside. I found him in the garden, looking like a dark prince in a stylish tuxedo, his hair windswept, his black eyes devastating as he regarded me. He was so freaking beautiful to me, but he wasn't smiling, not like he always did in pictures. He seemed…sad. The kind of soul-deep sadness I was way too familiar with.

I made him laugh. I don't even remember what I said. It was ridiculous, I'm sure. But his laugh cut right through me. I felt hot in places I'd never felt hot before. And when he leaned in to kiss me on the cheek to thank me for making his night, I think I gave him a tiny piece of my heart. A few days later, the news broke that his mom had cancer. She died less than a year later.

Come on," Jillian pleads, pouting at me. "What's the worst that could happen?"

Jail, expulsion, a media scandal…a litany of possibilities run through my head.

"Don't answer that." Jill grimaces as if just realizing it was a dumb question. "Answer this one instead." She holds up a finger, her nail perfectly manicured and sparkly pink. "What's the best that could happen?"

"I don't go to jail," I mumble.

"Exactly."

"You should never go into politics or motivational speaking. You suck at it."

She rolls her eyes at me, flopping down on her bed on her back. That lasts for all of two seconds before she pops back up, curling one leg beneath her. "I'm serious, December. If none of your worst-case scenarios happen, at the end of winter break, you have three full weeks of working with Alaric Parrish under your belt. That's three weeks to show him what you're made of and prove that you deserve a spot at his company. Once he sees your designs, he won't freaking care that you aren't me."

I hesitate, torn. She's swaying me to the dark side, just like always. No matter how terrible her ideas are, she always manages to sway me because she makes them sound so darn compelling. I'm a sucker, honestly.

"You really think I'm that good?"

"Uh, hello?" She bounds to her feet and does a pirouette so the asymmetrical hem of her red and white dress swishes around her legs. "You've been dressing me exclusively since we were sixteen! And everyone around here thinks I'm fashionable."

"You are fashionable." I smile.

"Yeah, because of your designs!"

I chew on my bottom lip, positive this will blow up in my face. But I want this. I want it so freaking bad. It's been six years, and I've never forgotten about Alaric or quit dreaming about him. He's still the only man who makes my heart race or my entire body clench with desire. I want to see him again, even if it's only to convince myself that I'm a long-forgotten memory to him.

"I'll do it," I say, squaring my shoulders.

Jillian squeals.