TORMENT Read Online Free Page B

woman involved in that mess deserved a medal.
    “Welcome to the East Room,” said an enthusiastic young Asian woman after snapping closed the cell phone that had held her attention for the past minute. She’d introduced herself when the limo dropped them off at the White House main entrance—Stephanie Chang, the president’s personal aide. Seemed nice enough. Cute too. “This is the largest room in the White House. It’s used for press conferences, dinners, ceremonies. Things like that.”
    The long room featured a large oriental rug with vibrant reds and blues—very royal—which were cut into sections by long streams of light shining through eleven tall windows. Two extravagant crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling and a lone grand piano occupied the far corner.
    “Will Mr. Byers get his medal here?” the little girl asked.
    Paul smiled. Elizabeth Durante. She had short-cut blond hair and a smile that melted his heart. Innocence personified, yet incredibly aware and social. They met in the limo and hit it off right away, swapping first grade horror stories, his involving long walks through the snow, hers involving iPods and cell phones. She knew more about the medal that would soon be hung around his neck than he did. Smart kid.
    “Oh, no,” Chang said as she moved to the center of the room. “Because the press was not invited, this will be a private and casual affair. We’ll be doing the medal ceremony in the Oval Office just after brunch.”
    Elizabeth’s eyes grew wide as she whispered, “Wow.” The woman holding her hand, Mia Durante, her aunt, frowned. Paul had yet to figure her out. There was something about her. She looked intelligent and nice enough, but her eyes revealed something brewing just below the surface...concealed, but barely contained.
    “ After brunch?” Mia asked. “I thought the ceremony was before brunch.”
    “Change of plans, I’m afraid. That was the president’s chief of security who called a minute ago.”
    “Do you know why?” Mia asked.
    Chang shrugged. “Beats me. But what Tom says, goes. Oh, Tom Austin is chief of security. Secret Service. Harmless, really. Unless you mess with the President, of course. From what I’ve heard, he can be a pit bull when he needs to be.”
    As Chang led them to a painting and began explaining its detailed past, Paul watched Mia. She bit her lower lip, rubbed her hands on her pants and tapped her foot ever so slightly. She either felt incredibly nervous about being at the White House and meeting the president or something was up. Never one to beat around the bush, he stepped toward her, intent on discovering the truth.
    Before he got to her a hand clapped his shoulder. “What’d I miss?”
    Paul turned and faced his brother, Mark, whose eyes darted around the room like a mischievous child in a room full of fireworks. The white ring around his collar, signifying his place in the priesthood, seemed to be the only thing holding him back. Then it failed to do even that. Mark made a beeline for the piano while Chang continued her dissertation about the painting, having never seen Mark return from the bathroom or witnessing his sprint to the piano. Paul stood his ground, not wanting to appear as a co-conspirator during the debacle that was sure to ensue...
    Now.
    The piano roared to life as Mark’s fingers flew over the keys, pounding out the notes of Amazing Grace . Paul shook his head with a smile. It sounded great, first because Mark was an accomplished pianist, and second because Mark had refrained from singing. But the reaction from Chang was instant horror.
    “Mr. Byers!” she shouted, walking to the piano as fast as she could. “Mr. Byers, please!” The rest of her exhortations became drowned by the echo of notes flowing through the large East Room.
    Mark mouthed, “What?” He had no intention of stopping to listen. And Elizabeth’s dancing at the center of the room only encouraged him to play with more passion. Mia,