Resistance

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“you can’t be serious!” Nadia told her mother.

She tried to keep her voice level and calm despite a stab of panic. She’d known her life would never be the same after what had happened, and she’d known that being summoned to her mother’s private study hadn’t boded well, but nothing could have prepared her for the bombshell that had just exploded in her face.

Esmeralda Lake sat rigidly on the edge of the sofa. “It will only be for a week,” she said, but the promise was hardly comforting, especially when her expression was so forbidding. “Two at the most. Just until some of the … furor … dies down.”

“You don’t think sending me to an Executive retreat is going to fuel the fire?” Nadia asked incredulously. Retreats billed themselves as relaxing spas, places a busy Executive might go to for a quick break from the stresses of life. There was no press allowed, and there was no access to the net, or even to telephones, allowing said stressed-out Executive to experience an unparalleled escape from the troubles of the world. Which all sounded nice in theory, but everyone knew Executives went to retreats to escape some kind of scandal. You went to a retreat when the press found out you had a drug problem, or when you’d been caught cheating on your husband, or when you were having a nervous breakdown. You went there to hide, because you had something to be ashamed of.

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