Private jets weren't on the list of things Tilly thought she'd grow accustomed to in her life, yet the excessive work travel that was now required of her had flipped her list on its head. She was grateful of course, never having to pay for the flights directly nor book them yet she did feel elitist using them. A pang of guilt still struck her each time the aviation crew offered to carry her bags, prepared her food or poured her drink - she felt bad that people were being paid to do the smallest of tasks for her.

The plane inside was split into two 'room' like cabins and she sighed in relief that she hadn't boarded at the same end Logan was sitting. Shiv looked up from her phone and smiled when Tilly boarded the plane, joking to her that she should sit with them to avoid getting the 'stench of Republicanism' on her. Roman scoffed at her joke. Matilda thanked her for the heads up and Shiv was quick to put her headphones back on when the pilot announced their imminent departure. Next to Shiv laid Roman, using the leather couch as a recliner as he picked from the handful of nuts in his palm.

"Everyone bow down for our youngest, poorest, most inexperienced yet sexiest little board member," Roman remarked. His strange version of a greeting paired with his fanning hands made her scoff.

Tilly smiled and waved quickly at Greg as he made eye contact with her from down the aisle, the boy desperate to escape the right-wing politics everyone was discussing around him. He looked so out of place in the heated conversation Logan, Tom and Hugo were having. She nudged Roman's leg for him to suggest he stop stretching out and let her sit on the small lounge. Reluctantly, he did so and she sat down opposite him.

"Are you going to keep ignoring me?" Tilly asked as she looked over at Shiv to see if she could hear them.

She couldn't.

"Just because I didn't text you back one time, doesn't mean I'm ignoring you. God, you're obsessed," Roman scoffed, locking his phone and tossing it next to him.

"You've left me on read way more than one time. You don't stop by my office anymore, you decline all of my calls, you refuse to come to any meetings that I've been invited to, and you even asked Greg to find out which bars I was going to each weekend so you couldn't run into me," she said matter of factly.

"Fuck Greg, he's a little fucking bitch," Roman huffed, throwing a salted cashew in the air and catching it in his mouth.

"You haven't even sent me an unsolicited dick pic in over two weeks. It's alarming," she laughed, knowing that even Roman couldn't resist perverted humour.

Shiv kept her headphones on as she stood from her seat and walked down the other end of the plane to go to the bathroom. It was a smart move, it meant that the likelihood of someone pulling her aside to chat was minimised by ten fold. Tilly took her opportunity to talk with Roman candidly and ran with it.

"Are you ignoring me because you kissed me then left the room straight afterwards?" She pressed.

Her voice wasn't demanding nor was it too direct, in fact she thought she had framed the question pretty casually. Roman sighed dramatically and let his head fall as if all the muscles in his body had turned to liquid, "It was one fucking kiss Til, it's not the end of the fucking world. Why are you even making me talk about this, it's so dumb."

"We don't have to talk about it, I just want you back to your usual self again-"

"How are you just so good with everything... You're always like, 'we can do whatever you want Roman' and you fucking, care about my feelings like some god damn- Fuck!" Roman exclaimed through his burst of uncomfortable laughter.

Shaking his head to himself and letting his laughter fade, he looked out the window and raised his whiskey glass to his lips before speaking. "Every other woman I've gotten this close to wouldn't have put up with me for so long. They'd have left by now because I'm too fucked up for them. Or deranged or fucking, perverted, but you're always just... here," he ranted, his eyes looking anywhere but at her.

"Do you want me to not be here?" She asked meekly, watching him take a large gulp (or two) of the dark spirit in his hand.

"Matilda, don't be fucking stupid. I just don't understand why you haven't run away yet," he mumbled, chewing on the edge of his thumbnail as he continued holding his glass.

With a long, drawn out sigh, she rested her head on the back of the lounge and looked up at the plane ceiling. It was starting to make sense to her now, "So you thought that if you pushed me away first, it meant I wouldn't be able to leave you..."

Taking another sip Roman screwed his face up at her prediction, "I dunno. Stop fucking, analysing me."

"I'm just trying to get you to open up for once," she taunted.

"Yeah great idea Einstein, I'll just be all vulnerable to everyone I meet and let the world walk all over me like a fucking moron," he mocked.

"I'm not saying that. I'm just saying you should let the people you trust in," she sighed.

"Dad says you should never trust anyone."

"Your Dad is also a raging psychopathic megalomaniac who's never felt real love or compassion or respect," she protested quietly, conscious that Logan was just a mere stones throw away.

"Maybe not love and compassion yeah... But a lot of people fucking respect him," Roman reasoned.

"Fear is not the same as respect Roman," Tilly stated bluntly, quickly changing her sympathetic expression to something more casual once she heard Shiv coming back.

She was still wearing her headphones, humming ever so quietly to the song she was listening to. Tilly couldn't help but wonder what type of music Shiv listened to, in fact she wondered what interests Shiv had in general. She barely knew anything about her besides the things her brothers and husband would speak to her about.

Shiv was always civil and relatively nice to Matilda, although she didn't quite know why. Perhaps it was because she knew Tom was her boss and didn't want to create any unnecessary tension. Perhaps Shiv didn't have enough ammunition against her to treat her otherwise. Either way, it was a relief to not be in Shiv's bad books. Nobody wants to make an enemy of a Roy.

"They're totally fucking," Roman said stretching his legs back out to rest across Tilly's lap. She assumed that was his way of letting her know that they were all good, that they could carry on as usual. He wasn't closed off anymore, nor was he avoiding giving her eye contact. It's like his entire demeanour flipped a switch.

"You mean Logan and Kerry?" She asked in disgust, looking down the aisle of the jet subtly to look at them.

"Please. Showing memes to a young menial? Tale as old as time," he shrugged.

"Is that why Til puts up with you? You give her a daily dosage of memes?" Shiv taunted, making both Tilly and Roman turn their heads towards her surprisingly.

Even though Shiv was listening to music through her headphones, it wasn't at a volume that she couldn't hear what was going on around her. She heard their entire conversation. Usually Shiv would have jumped at the chance to tease her brother about his psychosexual dysfunctions, though this time felt different. This time he was actually making progress with an actual human woman and she didn't want to ruin it for him. Why she felt compelled to not ruin it, was beyond her — was it because she wanted her brother to be happy or did she want to watch it crash and burn like the rest of his relationships?

Regardless, she was desperate to tell Tom as soon as she could. It was juicy gossip.

"He's still really into blowjobs, I hear," Roman said blatantly ignoring his sisters comment about Tilly – who was still very much a part of the conversation.

"You just wanna give Dad a blоwjоb, so stop projecting," Shiv taunted.

          
* * *

The hotel the group were staying at was host to the 'Future Freedom Summit' they were attending over the weekend. Tilly would never admit it openly to the group, but she had no clue to what the Future Freedom Summit was or why she was invited in the first place. Nevertheless, she said yes to coming. The group checked into their respective rooms and reconvened for 'welcome drinks' which she was relieved about. She silently prayed she'd be able to get valuable intel about what this whole thing was about before it was obvious she didn't know.

The Waystar group organised to meet at the elevators so that they could enter the event together but as they entered through the doors, Greg begged for them to not split up yet so he could duck off to the bathroom. They all agreed to wait for him except for Logan who told him to grow a pair of balls before and walking off regardless. Matilda found herself standing between Shiv and Tom, a noticeable tension between the couple. After the plane had landed, the two had shared a car to the hotel and seemed perfectly fine. Now however, they stood like acquaintances forced to be with one another.

Tilly narrowed her eyes as she looked over to Roman who was slurping on his drink loudly to emphasise the awkwardness between his sister and her husband. "Did you bring that from your room?"

"Uh-huh, I needed a quick pick me up before the political circle jerk started," he joked.

Greg hurried back to the group and lowered his voice, "Someone with an undercut just called me a uh, soy boy? At the urinals?"

"It's okay Greg. This is a safe space where you don't have to pretend to like Hamilton," Tom sympathised.

"I- I do like Hamilton," he stuttered in response. He thought Hamilton was brilliant, was he not supposed to think so? Perhaps everyone just pretending to like it to stay relevant and 'woke' he thought. Surely not.

"Sure you do Greg, we all do," Tom chuckled.

"You know your family is kinda like the one in Hamilton," Tilly chuckled.

"How?" Tom squinted.

"Three siblings all competing against each other cos Daddy has lots of money and they're like in love with New York City and everyone knows them or whatever,"

"Oh yeah! Like the uh, the Schuyler sisters!"

"The what?" Roman scoffed.

"You know, like... Work, work... Eliza," Greg started to sing, humming mostly to replace the lyrics he did not know. He wasn't very on pitch which made it hard to listen to, seconded to the fact he was in imitating the female singers using different voices.

"God, please never do that around me ever again," Roman scoffed before taking a swig of his drink.

His unwavering gaze was set on Tilly as he let the alcohol run down his throat, unable to take his eyes away her. Obviously he thought she looked hot, wearing a dress that was suitably modest for the occasion yet left just enough for the mind to wander. But it was more than that. Everything was from the way her eyes lit up when she smiled, to the way her nose crinkled as she laughed made him mesmerised. He was enamoured by her and it scared the living fucking daylight out him. All because he knew those same terrifyingly disgusting feelings wouldn't be reciprocated.

They never were.

Roman knew he was a deeply damaged and broken man but how could he not be with a father like Logan Roy? He thought he turned out pretty well considering the trauma of his childhood, he thought he could have ended up a lot worse for a child unfamiliar with love and affection. He grew up believing that the reason he hadn't received his fathers warmth was because he had never been good enough to receive it - that people like him weren't worthy of proper love.

"So what is this weekend about anyway?" Greg asked, pulling Roman out of his daydream and relieving Matilda of her desperate need to know what the group were actually doing in Virginia.

"It's basically a social event that a bunch of Republicans created to network amongst themselves and we come each year to see who could be gracing the screens of ATN in the near future," Shiv explained.

"A.k.a picking the next president," Tom smirked.

"That's not what this is," Shiv corrected.

"Oh yeah no, not what this is at all, definitely not," Roman said sarcastically, over exaggerating his nodding to show contradiction to his words.

"I guess the uh, the next president is in this room then?" Greg said as he looked down at the guests socialising below them.

They mingled amongst each other, political figureheads catching up over lost time or introducing themselves to one another to build powerful connections. Either way, Tilly knew she was in for a brain-numbing weekend surrounded by Republicans. She never pretended to have different political views than the ones she had, though she had learnt to keep them to herself unless explicitly asked. No one in their right mind would come to something like this and openly prance around declaring they were a Democrat.

Most of the people in the room looked the same to her; middle aged white men with superiority complexes kissing each others asses. The very few wives who were brought along as plus ones looked visibly bored and out of place; she pitied them. One wife however, looked lovely and vivacious from behind, waving her arms about as she talked, laughed and schmoozed her way through the conversation. She didn't seem overly drunk or anything, just a big personality. She almost reminded Tilly of her own mother.

"I've gotta go for a second. I'll be back in uh- I'll just be back later," she said quickly, leaving the group to weave through the crowd.

On a closer look, she looked a lot like her mother albeit only being able to see her from behind still. As she got closer, Tilly saw her husband approach her with two drinks in hand. The man in question being none other than her own father.

"Mom? Dad?"

"Matilda! Honey! What are you doing here in Virginia?" Her mother asked in shock, her father smiling widely as he pulled her in for a smothering hug.

"Dad, you can let go of me now. I uh, I'm here for a work thing... With ATN. God, it's such a nice surprise to see you guys!" She said to both of her parents.

"Oh... I forgot the Roy's would be here tonight..." her mother scowled, scanning the room for the family in charge of covering up her daughters assault.

The way she said their last name was dripping with venom, like it was the most putrid and vile words to ever leave one's lips. Her father didn't know anything about the incident whatsoever, the two women agreeing to keeping it a secret from him. Her mother didn't want him to lose focus of his political career by 'burdening' him with any added stress so she begged her daughter to not tell him.

What a supportive mother.

"I've actually met Logan Roy quite a times attending these things. The first plane ride you'd ever had was the year he hosted an event at his Hamptons home and we all took a little vacation together. You weren't even a year old," her father said, oblivious to the seething hatred his wife had towards them.

"Work trips are not vacations," her mother uttered under her breath.

"They are if the whole family is together," he retorted sternly, all whilst keeping his smile.

Her mother was quick to wrap the conversation up and took a deep inhale. "Well, we better keep circulating the room... You know how these political events are, it's all about making connections."

Her father leant in to plant a quick good bye kiss on the top of her head before she heard him loudly greet a fellow right-wing schmuck. "Oh, uh okay... Maybe we can get breakfast tomorrow morning and catch up a bit. That could be nice right? I could get a car to drop me to wherever you and Dad are staying to make it easier."

"It's going to be a very busy weekend for your father, we probably won't have time," her mother said.

"Okay, well uh- If you do find time, let me know," she responded sweetly. A little shaken, but not surprised.

In a strange sense of relief, Tilly weaved through the crowd again to make her way back to the group. Men around the room stared at her like vultures looking for prey, eyeing the woman up and down as she walked. Nervously she pulled at the hem of her dress, trying to make it longer despite it already being a pretty conservative length.

"Where'd you run off to huh?" Tom chuckled.

"I just saw that my parents are here which is super fun..." she said, finishing the rest of her champagne in one swift gulp and putting it down on a nearby table.

"Your parents are here?" Tom said almost choking on his wine. He knew that this meant her parents were deemed somewhat important given they were attendees tonight; he doubted they both worked at the hotel coincidentally.

"Really? Where?" Greg asked semi-excitedly. Tilly turned around behind her and pointed to her mother and father. "Aw, you look just like your Mom," Greg smiled.

"You're telling me there's a woman here who looks like you but older and more... Milf-y? Sign me up," Roman smirked into his glass before turning around. "Wait, that's your Dad? Senator Neumann?"

"Uh, yeah...? We have the same last name. Did you not pick up that he was a Senator when I told you I was raised in DC? Shiv knew, she picked it up like the second time we ever met," Tilly said casually.

She didn't talk about her fathers political career with much pride nor enthusiasm, it was a conversation she'd had far too many times that it grew stale to her.

"But you're a Democrat," Greg pondered.

"Yeah, and?"

"We didn't realise your daddy issues were so bad they influenced your political views," Roman snarked.

"Fuck off Romulus," she snapped.

"Using Pop's nickname for me... Are you trying to get me aroused?" he smirked. Mostly at winding her up but partly for making the others uncomfortable being subject to hearing his comment.

With a scoff, an eye roll and a shake of her head Tilly looked back suddenly at the now raucous crowd of men behind them. Amongst this increasingly loud crowd of men stood Shiv, arms crossed over her chest and a dismissive look on her face. Besides being a Roy, she was a well known democratic advisor in the industry so even stepping foot in this place was asking for a heated debate on her political stances. The men were mostly in their forties and fifties. All white. All privileged. All assholes.

"How come none of us knew this? He could help us massively in picking a candidate for us to endorse," Tom questioned.

"And like, well in general, the whole uh, everything to do with Waystar..." Greg added.

"Fucking ay he could. We have over 400 fucking congressmen in this country that kiss our asses and only 100 senators. And half of those senators are Democrats that want to see this company crash and burn. Your Dad on the other hand, is a Republican. We like Republicans. Republicans are the ones who keep us employed. He's good to keep in the ol' back pocket," Tom continued.

Roman tapped his finger against his cup lightly as he thought about the situation at hand. Fidgeting. Ruminating. His ring clinked against the glass ever so quietly before he spoke, "Introduce me."

"To my parents? Not a fucking chance, Mom hates Waystar. And by extension she would hate you," Tilly laughed, as if Roman had told her a side splitting joke.

"Calm down Cinderella. I want to talk politics, not ask them for your hand in marriage," he retorted.

Shiv appeared briefly to take Tom's champagne glass from his hand and down the remainder of his drink in a flurry of frustration. He asked her if she was alright to which she replied, "They're fucking fascist misogynists. Every fucking one of them," before leaving as quickly as she arrived.

Tilly turned around to look at the men Shiv had gotten all riled up over. She couldn't tell if they were having a productive political chat amongst each other, or whether they were continuing their spirited debate. No matter what context, the men seemed to be stern and determined with their conversation. One of the men had noticed her watching them and had started to watch her back. He was on the younger side, with the beginnings of greying hair and an icy blue stare that made her feel like she was burning up.

"She says that as if she wasn't raised by one..." Roman joked macabrely before seamlessly changing back to the pressing issue at hand. "Would your Mom like me if I told her that I've cum on her daughters face? What about you riding Ken's dick for the past who knows how many months?"

"You will speak nothing of that nature, because I would castrate you if you did," she threatened, excusing herself to go to the bar for a top up.

"Oh I'm definitely mentioning it now," he laughed menacingly, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as she walked off to get a stronger drink - the champagne being carried around by waiters wasn't hitting her enough.

The bar wasn't particularly busy per se, it was just blocked by small groups of people gathered around to chat with their drinks in hand. Tilly had said 'excuse me' three seperate times before she finally pushed her way past to reach the bartender.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't Baby Wisconsin. I've heard so much about you, yet I haven't had the pleasure..." a deep voice said from beside her before she turned towards him. "Jeryd Mencken, nice to meet you."

The moniker felt so impersonal. She'd never lived a day of her life in Wisconsin despite her father being their senator for majority of her life. He spent most his time in Washington so that's where he started his family.

"You're Mencken... Wow, it's nice to finally see the face of such a colourful reputation I've been hearing about,"

"Colourful? That's a way to put it," he chuckled, smiling gently down at her.

"I didn't really want to go in guns blazing and call you a neo-nazi fascist straight away," she said leaning up against the bar to get the male bartenders attention so that she'd be served next. And like honey to a bee, it worked.

"Woah! I was raised Jewish y'know, so that's a pretty fucked up thing to say," he chuckled, crossing his arms.

"Shiv's words, not mine," she deflected.

Mencken shrugged, "Just because my policies might come across a little extreme to some people, doesn't mean I live and breathe them."

"Not believing in your own policies... What a trustworthy politician," Tilly judged.

"I believe in all of my policies to a degree, but at the end of the day I'm just giving the people what they want. And that's what makes a good politician," he spruiked, like he was trying to sell himself.

The bartender eventually reached their end of the bar, wiping his hands quickly on a white linen hand towel before tossing it over his shoulder. As most men acted in this patriarchal nightmare of a room, he asked the congressman what he 'and the lady' would like to order. He shifted his weight to the side and outstretched his hand to notion for Tilly to order her own drink, then ordered a Bourbon and Coke for himself.

"So, what's your deal huh? Most people here tonight wanna fսck me or kill me... Where do you stand?" Mencken asked confidently.

"Unlike my father, I don't care for politics, so I apologise for not having a stance on your ever so important question Congressman Mencken," she stated.

"Would it help if I went first? I don't know how the Senator would feel about my answer though," he chuckled, craning his head around to look in the direction of her father.

"Whether you did either, I doubt he would even notice," she joked back.

"Am I hearing correctly or are we playing a little game of fuck, marry, kill?" Roman said approaching the bar and leaning his back against it; right in the middle of the two.

Roman had met him once before now, referring to him as a 'ghost pepper' when they were introduced. Mencken laughed at the nickname before asking to change he a Carolina reaper instead because they were 'spicier and all american'. He was an enigmatic presence, yet unsettling. He could work a room with his eyes closed like a conductor to an orchestra. He oozed with silent charisma, a much quieter confidence opposed to the blatant cockiness that she saw from other men in the room. He wasn't quiet by any means, she had heard his laughter across the room.

"Something like that..." Mencken grinned before picking up his glass and pointing at both Roman and Tilly as he sipped. "I'm sorry, are you two..."

"Together? Uh, no... Definitely not. Matilda here, likes to come to shit shows like these, scope out a wealthy victim double her age and get him to screw her brains out to satisfy her vehement daddy issues," Roman taunted.

"Are you fucking serious right now?" She asked in disgust, shocked that Roman was saying such things in front of a complete stranger; a stranger that was apparently known to be a fascist, xenophobe and misogynist.

"What? I'm not wrong, you and Willa are by far the youngest women in here and you're both filling your trauma voids by having sex with older men. Which says a lot about you actually because Willa, is at least being paid for it," Roman added.

"Fuck you Roman," she scoffed, her words vicious and pointed before leaving both of the men and walking off with her drink.

Half of her wanted to throw it in Roman's face but she knew that it would inevitably lead to her being fired, excommunicated from her family and potentially even assassinated by one of these gun toting Republicans in the room.

"Feisty... I was gonna put my hand up to be her next victim but I have to say; I do enjoy a woman who makes the hunt all the more challenging," Mencken laughed to Roman.

"Uh-huh, and what do your wife and kids think of that?" Roman asked, amused at the fact he and Mencken could speak so candidly about tabooed topics in the open.

"Who?" Jeryd joked, laughing as he shook his head and raised his bourbon to his lips. "You know something I always live by is, what they don't know won't hurt them."

"Sounds just like my Dad."

"Well would you look at that, seems like everyone has daddy issues here tonight," he chuckled, joining Roman in leaning against the bar and watching over the crowd. Although, both of them had their gaze locked on Tilly leaving the room.

After her encounter with her parents, the Congressman and subsequently the one with Roman, Tilly needed a fucking breather. All the testosterone in the room was getting to her. Spending any more time around so many men she swore her period would stop and her voice would get deeper. It was exhausting.

Walking through the crowd she could feel the watchful eyes of the men around her, their gazes following her out of the room until she pushed open the door of the women's bathroom. A safe space. A place to breathe for a second. She moved to the vanity, staring at herself in the mirror and taking a deep breath. Her phone buzzed in her pocket and unabashedly she sighed when the group chat name 'The Waystar Three' appeared on her screen.

Tom Wambsgans
Shorty's Diner. 8pm.

Greg Hirsch
Are we carpooling?

Greg Hirsch
We're at the same hotel after
all, it makes sense

Tom Wambsgans
Fuck the environment. Just
be at the diner by 8. Okay?

Biting back tears she took another deep breath. Matilda wasn't as tough as she made herself out to be, not at all. But was anyone? Yes, she could lead business meetings and spit out cocky remarks on cue but there was always a niggling presence of anxiety within her. She smiled at herself in the mirror quickly before leaving, coaxing the false reaction onto her face as she so often did. She had nailed the fake smile to a tee, resembling her real one as closely as possible; nobody was able to pick it.

Scanning the room for where her family members were and where her colleagues were, she spotted a crossover that she desperately didn't want happening. Roman conversing with Jeryd Mencken and her parents. When he wanted to, Roman could charm his way in and out of any situation. He had this strange sort of aura that made him compelling, a false confidence that could fool almost anybody. She knew that by the way her father was listening to every word he had to say, that he was drawn in by Roman's character. His god damn boyish charm.

Tilly wondered what Roman would have been like when he was younger. He would've been born in what, 1987? Fuck, she never realised there was much of an age gap until she thought about it like this. When Roman graduated high school, he was listening to Boulevard of Broken Dreams by Green Day, watching the first episode of The Office and shredding Metallica on Guitar Hero.

When Tilly was 21 she was slathering her eyebrows with thick pomade and swiping her lips with the gloss from her Kylie Jenner lip kit. She would have been singing Work by Rihanna on the way to college where freshmen were dabbing and playing Pokémon Go.

Roman hated being 21. How could he not? The world was suffering from a global financial crisis. Bush was president; a republican office, brilliant. Then Obama was elected; not a republican office, not brilliant. Beijing Olympics gave its broadcast rights to that democratic scum of a network NBC, Lehman Brothers filed for bankruptcy, and then there was that whole swine flu chaos. All in all, ATN was struggling and Logan's stress levels were beyond palpable. It was the year Roman came back from studying abroad in England and remembered why he had left in the first place.

Logan was fucking insane.

Caroline had a fair few connections at Oxford so when Roman complained to her that college wasn't his 'thing', she pulled some strings to get him past the admissions office. He had no interest in studying because he knew he had a career lined up for him at Waystar, but he needed a reason to leave the nest like his brothers had. They had both moved out for college at 18, so Roman was determined to do the same at 17. He didn't remember sitting majority of his exams nor was he awake for most of his classes but nevertheless he received a Bachelor in Economics and Management.

"Ah speak of the devil," Mencken said as she joined them. Her mother was barely in the conversation between the men, mostly just listening on the side like the obedient wife she was. It was bullshit.

"Did Tilly tell you she joined us on our boat around the Mediterranean a few weeks ago?" Roman continued, barely acknowledging her arrival.

"No... No, she didn't," her mother butted in as she turned her head towards her daughter slowly.

"Gosh, sailing around Europe around this time of year would be just amazing. Was this for work?" her father smiled.

"No, no, personal holiday. Just my family and a few close friends like Tilly here," Roman smiled.

He knew exactly what he was doing.
And she hated it.

"I didn't know you two were that close. Honey, how come you never told me you were friends with Roman and his family?" The senator asked, almost sounding excited at the idea his daughter was so close with such a powerful family.

"Yes Matilda, why didn't you tell us you were so close with the Roy family?" Her mother repeated, in a much more cynical tone than that of her husbands.

"You didn't ask... Actually, you guys never ask me about anything. When was the last time you called to see how I was or how my job is goi-"

"Forgive my daughter gentlemen, sometimes she forgets her manners," her mother said cutting her off.

"I can assure you, she's always well mannered with us. And more than welcome to come on any future trips," Roman said to diffuse the situation.

Roman the Showman, the silver tongued prince of Waystar Royco. The average person wouldn't be able to pick it from meeting him though. They would assume that Kendall was the one with the innovative ideas and the future forward thinking. He had read every business book, attended every seminar and learnt all the necessary jargon. And no matter how much he talked about synergy or optics or god damn algorithms, he always struggled connecting with people. Roman knew how to work people. Yes, he may bumble his way through his words and appear to be inexperienced in management but he was the sibling with street smarts. After all, street smarts get you much further in business than book smarts.

"I'd love to take another little break just the Mrs and me but you know how it is, politics doesn't sleep!" Her father joked.

"Same with New York," Tilly added, trying to feel included in the conversation between the three men. Or rather, feel acknowledged by her father.

"Well. Congressman Mencken, Senator Neumann, it was great speaking with you both but I have to excuse us, I apologise. Tilly and I have dinner reservations. Politics right? Never sleeps," Roman laughed, referring back to the quote her father had said prior, joking in such a manner that felt so, un-Roman.

She didn't have dinner until 8pm but she was thankful to leave the conversation early. What Roman was doing tonight for dinner was beyond her. She didn't care right now. Tilly took the lead in exiting the room, followed by a blissfully unaware Roman. She couldn't speak. What would she say? What could she say to him in earshot of America's most important political leaders? So, she stayed silent as they waited for the elevators.

"What?" He asked, eyebrows scrunched together in confusion as he watches you shake your head, seething with rage.

Even him asking that made your anger grow before snapping at him with a hushed voice, "You're a fucking asshole, that's what."

"Oh come on, it was a joke! We talk like that all the time," he reasoned, a crooked smile on his face paired with a defeated laugh. Again, trying to diffuse the situation.

When the elevator doors opened, she walked in with her arms crossed and stood opposite him. He saw the way her shoulders tightened, how her jaw clenched and her eyes glazed over, causing Roman's to realise his jokes had gone too far. Disappointment and guilt flooded through him, like a dog with its tail hanging between its legs. A feeling all too familiar to him.

"I just felt- Look, blame the fucking, alcohol or whatever but seeing Mencken flirt with you before made me feel- I don't know, I guess I was fucking, jealous or something.... But you're right, I am an asshole," Roman apologised, sighing as if he had held his breath for minutes and was finally allowed to exhale again.

"A huge fucking asshole," she confirmed.

The feeling of jealousy wasn't something unfamiliar to Roman, he often found himself envious of others. Envious that people could function without the insecurities he struggled with. But he had never gotten jealous in the way he did with Matilda. He found himself becoming jealous of Greg for having such a laid back friendship with her. Jealous of Tom having her respect and camaraderie all the while being able to have the power. And of Kendall for having slept with her countless times, often mentioning the details to 'the boys' behind closed doors.

Now he was jealous of Mencken openly flirting with her with his suave yet blasé confidence.

He knew he shouldn't feel jealousy in this situation though, she wasn't his and he wasn't hers. And boy did he hate it. He hated the fact that she could make him feel such feelings. How had she slithered her way into his brain so deeply that his trivial attraction for her had grown into this?

"Can we skip to the part where we kiss and make up?" He whined, already over and done with the uncomfortable silence and the overwhelming thoughts rushing through his brain.

"Kiss and make up? What the fuck type of drugs are you on?" She said flicking her head towards him in complete and utter shock.

Roman could have sworn he had more self control when it came to situations like this. He rarely apologised to people; especially not for his jovial style of insulting humour. Tilly simply stripped him bare of all his protective armour and saw through his facade. She made him feel all weird inside. She made him feel floaty.

He replayed their kiss over and over in his head every night lying in bed. His mind couldn't help but play it back frame by frame, flashbacks so vivid like soldiers returning from war. Any person would argue that the post traumatic stress that came from the horrific experience of war was incomparable to what Roman was feeling though he didn't think so. In fact, he'd rather be shot with a machine gun than admit he was catching feelings for her.

Whilst Roman was a relatively difficult person to read, there were a few habits of his that Tilly had managed to pick up on. He chewed his nails when he was overstimulated. He never held eye contact with his father longer than a quick glance. He chewed on the ends of his straws. He fiddled with his rings whenever he was anxious or upset or nervous. He stifled his laughter majority of the time, only ever laughing at full capacity when he was relaxed or inebriated.

"Fuck off Neumann, I don't actually want to kiss you. The last time it sucked ass and I want to see if it was a one off or if you're actually just shit at kissing. It's basically a science experiment," he scoffed.

He also used insults as a deflection.

Roman was so preoccupied continuing his tangent on how 'bad' she was at kissing, that he didn't realise she had stepped forward and closed the gap between them until her hand was pressed against the nape of his neck.

"Stop fucking talking Rome," she huffed quietly, leaning in to kiss him for the second time.

It took Roman a moment to properly register what was happening but after he realised it wasn't a wild hallucination or the beginnings of his sexual fantasies, he kissed her back. A little more tender than the first time, passionate yet gentle. Though it was short lived, both pulling away when they heard the elevator ding and another two guests entered with them.

As annoyed as she was at him still, she hoped that he wouldn't ignore her for two weeks like the last time they kissed. But it was Roman, who could ever predict what he would do next?

* * *

"So Mom's getting married to a guy none of us have even heard of and forgot to invite her own fucking kids. Do you know anyone called Peter Munion?" Roman began as soon as he heard Tilly pick up the phone.

He was laying on the bed in his suite, freshly showered and smartly dressed for his evening plans. His hair was styled as usual and he had reapplied his woody cologne to his neck and wrists. God, his shoes were even on but he was still waiting for Logan to message him saying that they were ready.

"Peter Onion? Not a clue. Is that why you called? Just to ask me that?" she responded, putting him on speaker and placing the iPhone on the bathroom counter as she continued to get ready to meet Tom and Greg at a diner. Why did Tom pick a diner to eat at of all places?

"I'm bored and waiting for Papa Adolf to let me come up to his suite and get our dicks sucked dry by these political cucks," he begun, insinuating that his father was akin to Hitler.

She chose to ignore his crude metaphor, albeit not knowing what he was talking about.

Roman struggled with silence. "Do you ever wish we could pretend to be proper adults for like, a day? Just for shits and giggles?" He asked casually.

"What's that supposed to mean?" She snickered, leaning closer to the mirror to drag her mascara brush through her eyelashes.

"It means I want to fuck you but I can't and I wish I could- I dunno, like, do sex like a normo," he groaned, rolling onto his back and staring at the ceiling.

"Wow, two kisses and you're whipped," she taunted, grabbing her little shoulder bag and leaving the hotel room.

"Fuck off, you know what I mean. I get off when you treat me like a piece of shit," he protested.

"Yeah so? You can still be degraded during sex."

"No because when I think about getting someone off, I want to be the one in charge. So you can imagine it's hard to get hard when sex is like, both of those sides to me fighting each other. I dunno, it's just me and my brain being weirded out by people up close and personal with my dick. I don't even whip it out in front of other dudes to pee."

"You've sent me pictures and videos of your dick dozens of times though... And you came in my mouth once remember?" she said letting the end of her sentence become quieter as the elevator doors opened. Luckily, it was empty.

"Yeah but that was cool 'cos I was the one touching my dick, not you," Roman reasoned.

"I bet I could create a strategy to get you comfortable with doing sex like a normo."

Roman's voice mocked her through the phone, "Oh yeah? A strategy? Fucking, elaborate on this glorious sex-fuck strategy for me then sex wizard."

Leaving the elevator she pulled her phone from her ear to check on the Uber she had booked quickly, "Fuck off. Strategy is like, my fucking thing. So say like... Ooh okay so, imagine you're going down on someone-".

"Marcia." Roman interrupted.

"What?"

"For this scenario. You said to imagine I'm going down on someone," Roman said innocently.

"You're fucking disgusting," she sighed, getting into the Uber. She presumed Tom and Greg would have travelled in a luxury car already.

"Well now I change my answer to you, because that comment was fucking hot. Should I go to the bar? Dad said to meet in the suite in like two hours," he huffed, almost in a way that sounded like he was frustrated she made him change his answer.

"Shut up and let me continue explaining my strategy. We know that you like to be submissive when you're getting off but what about when it comes to getting her off... Say you're going down on a chick, blah blah blah... What's keeping your dick hard during that?"

"The fact I'm the one making her legs like, fucking spasm or whatever the fuck shes moaning about," he shrugged.

"But you struggle to keep that dominant side to you when it comes to sex," she clarified.

"Yeah, cos my dick is involved."

"Exactly. You need to learn that sex can be a back and forth between that dominant side and your submissive side by different like, positions. Maybe when you focus on making her cum, you're in control like you said. But then when you need to get off you change positions. Imagine her treating you like shit whilst riding you," she giggled.

"Fuck, you just love playing psychologist with me... Is it a fun little game for you? Like you're fishing inside my brain praying to find something good?"

"Shut up, I think I'm really onto something here. Before we tried the remote controlled vibrator at Argestes you hated hearing people talk about how you were making them feel, right? Tabitha once told me that she said she was horny and wet and you completely shut down hearing it," Tilly explained.

"And?"

"And," she imitated in a mocking tone. "Now when you call me late at night all hot and bothered and playing with yourself, you ask me to join you... That's called growth Rome," she smiled.

Roman hadn't realised that he had actually progressed in his sexual maturity until he heard her say it. Was she the reason for his growth? Surely not he thought.

"Alright well, I've gotta go Rome. My Ubers pulling up now and Tom and Greg are out the front."

"Lame, hope you get food poisoning eating animal slop at your stupid diner," he whined.

"I hope you get blue balls from the future president refusing to blow you,"she laughed, hanging up the phone and waving hello to the other members of the Waystar Three. Greg looked like a nervous puppy like normal, but Tom looked like he had seen a murder and not slept for three days.

The booth they were taken to had an older silver table bolted to the floor and dark blue PVC seats. The types of seats that cracked with age and faded from the sun. Greg slides in and looks out the window as if to take in the view, although the view was nothing short of an empty parking lot in the black of night. Tom mentions that the pet sitter he had hired to look after his dog Mondale, also checked in on Tilly's cat - updating her on it's well-being.

"Can I eat breakfast food at 8pm? Yeah, fuck it. 24 hour breakfast menus exist for a reason," Tilly asked the group, although it was more rhetorical. She was definitely ordering the buttermilk pancakes.

"You wouldn't be given that much freedom if you were in prison, no way. Late for dinner? Too fucking bad, you don't eat until morning where you'll be lucky to find anything that doesn't taste like wet cardboard," Tom complained.

"Is that why we're here? Because you're rehearsing prison?" Matilda scrutinised.

"I thought it was the Christmas Tree thing..." Greg mumbled, all to be met with a quizzical look from Tom.

"You know how, uh... they're calling you that name around the office, the... you know, the Christmas Tree..." Greg explained, struggling to give his boss, mentor, confidant and friend any eye contact.

Tom chuckled, "Perhaps that's because I'm tall and jolly."

Greg went on to explain the real reason behind Tom's newfangled office nickname. As word go around the department that someone was bound to take the fall for cruises, most fingers pointed towards Tom. There was a saying that summed up the situation well, that when one big man falls, a dozen little men move up the  corporate ladder. So, people assumed that if they were questioned on their involvement with the scandal, they could just relay the blame onto Tom since he would already be in the spotlight.

    
Roman Roy
Silly Tilly

Roman Roy
Come to the bar.

Roman.

No, I'm at the diner
with Tom and Greg.

Roman Roy
Bar is better than a diner

Roman Roy
The boys said they're more
than happy to help keep
you company tonight ;)

huh who are you with

Roman Roy
Mencken and Hawthorne

who is Hawthorne

Roman Roy
Congressman down south

Roman Roy
The one we said looked like
scrawny John Cena

oh yeah him

"I'll have the Griddle Hero special please," Tom said cheerfully to the waitress. "With double hash browns. Fully loaded. And a plain waffle and a... and a large cup of room-temperature water. Thank you so much," he grinned, closing his menu and passing it to her.

Tilly dropped her head into her hands, groaning loudly as she pressed her palms to her forehead. She didn't want Tom to take the fall for something he had nothing to do with. He might have done other questionable things at work like abuse a human rights by using them as furniture, but nothing to the extent of her sexual assault case. "I won't let you go to jail Tom."

"Thank you for that minutiae of help Matilda but I don't think you can do anything."

She thought about coming clean with Tom. In a weird, twisted way that defied logic, she really did trust him. She didn't want to, but she did. He had gotten her this far without being in debt to her, nor was he negotiating with her, he simply just promoted her without asking for anything in return. He saw her value. He saw her skill.

"I'm a board member now remember, that counts for something right? Maybe I can sway some people."

     
* * *
     

Majority of Tilly's night had been spent talking Tom down from the metaphorical building ledge he was teetering on. The prospects of taking the fall for Cruises and going to prison was really weighing on him. Greg only got worried whenever Tom got worried, like a baby starting to cry whenever they saw another baby cry. It was a chain reaction. And it was exhausting wrangling both of their jail time anxieties.

        
Roman Roy
Quick go

Roman Roy
Fuck, Marry, Kill

uhhh kill Hawthorne

Roman Roy
Good choice

marry you

Roman Roy
Gross. And the other?

the other one is obvious

Roman Roy
Is it? I'm not so sure

fuck Mencken.
happy?

Roman Roy
Eh... Does marrying you
mean we fuck more than
you and Mencken?

its a game Roman

sounds like someone is
getting jealous again

Roman Roy
Where's the vomit emoji

Tom, Greg and Matilda drove in the same car back to their hotel in almost silence. The exception being Greg's off key humming as he sat in the front seat of the Uber. Yes, that's right, an Uber. Tom had admitted defeat and thought that there was a newfound luxury to the ride share app dominated by Kia Cerato's. He thought that an Uber would be miles better than the dilapidated public bus he'd be taking on the way to Rikers Island. Greg posed the question of 'why Rikers' as a prison, and it set them both off on their downwards spiral.

The two men turned left in the hotel lobby to go towards their respective rooms, whereas Tilly turned right. There was no reason for their rooms being on other sides of the hotels other than sheer luck but she exhaled a quiet sigh of relief that she could finally leave all their prison talk for the night. As she saw none other than Jeryd Mencken walking towards her in her peripheral vision, she pressed the elevator close button repeatedly.

But he made it inside the lift just in time.

"Baby Wisconsin," he said with a quiet intensity, standing next to her. They both stood straight up and looking in front of them at the closed doors. She noticed that he had good posture. It was off putting.

"Congressman Mencken," she responded mimicking him.

He stepped back to lean against the elevator wall, crossing his arms and chuckling at her imitation of him. "Sneaking back from a late night rendezvous I see?"

"Could ask you the same thing," she responded with her eyebrow raised.

"I was actually just meeting with Logan Roy upstairs... Talking politics and what not," he said smugly, as of name dropping Logan Roy was supposed to impress her. The lift doors opened and she held her breath to hope he didn't get out at the same floor as she did.

But he did.

He walked alongside her until he reached his room, stopping at the door to pull his keycard out of his pocket. She said a quick good night and continued walking towards her own room.

"Hey Matilda?"

She stopped at her door and looked down the corridor at him.

"Yeah?"

"Since you work for ATN, I suppose I should give you the heads up that after tonight, I think we'll be seeing a lot more of each other."

"Oh, then I look forward to collaborating with you," she said politely as she tried to quickly scan her keycard against her door and escape the high tension and high anxiety she was feeling.

   
* * *
    

Roman Roy
Dad likes Mencken

Roman Roy
I chose Mencken

Roman Roy
Which means I picked the
next president and I've got a
raging erection

Good to know you're hard
thinking about getting your
Dads approval for once

Roman Roy
Fuck off

Roman Roy
What room are you

913 but I'm about to
fall asleep I swear

She had barely scrolled through Instagram more than ten posts when she heard a knock at her door and begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed to answer it. Roman was always one to put effort into the way he looked and tonight was no different despite him obviously being tired. He wore a navy button up shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbows, black tailored suit pants and a black belt. His shoes were pretty plain but Tilly noticed the red soles and instantly knew they were Louboutins.

"I feel like a fucking King and you look like a lowly peasant right now," Roman remarked as he waltzed past her holding a drink he had been carrying carelessly through the hotel. She scoffed and called him an alcoholic as she closed the door behind him and watched him flop onto the small sofa opposite her bed.

His finger was subconsciously tracing the rim of his glass as he spoke about his night in Logan's suite and Tilly couldn't stop herself from imagining a plethora of downright dirty thoughts about him instead of actually listening. Call it being sleep deprived or call it being horny, she was lost in her daydreams. She had to ask him to repeat himself twice and nodded mindlessly before he asked her what was wrong with her; to which she replied 'just tired'.

"You know my Dad said he was impressed by you today," she said sitting back down onto her bed and pulling the bed covers over her legs.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I wanted to have breakfast with them tomorrow but all I got were a few text messages from Dad saying he was too busy. And then he said 'that Roman Roy is a good egg'. My Mom hates Waystar too much to give you the time of day but Dad gave you a tick of approval," she says laughing.

Roman had never had someone's parent approve of him before. Not even his own.

"Fuck it, let's do this whole 'pretending to be adults' thing," Roman said casually, downing the rest of his drink and putting the empty glass on the side table.

"Oh my god... You really are horny over Daddy's approval," she taunted, looking over at him with a giggle.

"Don't act like you wouldn't be either. Alright, c'mere you fucking, slut," He said for the lack of a better word, springing himself on the bed.

Roman wasn't the smoothest when it came to these sorts of encounters. He'd often say something questionable or act in a way that felt unnatural. He just knew that he was horny and feeling like he was on top of the world. He wasn't the most experienced man in the bedroom, though he'd had sex enough to know what he was doing for the most part.

She'd only ever seen the pathetic, submissive side of Roman before, begging her to keep insulting him so he could cum over the phone or whimpering as he touched himself. This dominant side to him that was hovering over Tilly with his arms either side of her was more rare, and gave her all the more reason to be turned on.

"You sure about this Rome?"

"If I wasn't sure, I definitely wouldn't be here," he said leaning down to crash his lips against hers. She was pretty sure their teeth clashed but she assumed he wouldn't be the most coordinated in the bedroom. And he was right, she knew Roman couldn't possibly be the type to fuck someone just for the sake of having sex. She knew that he was making a conscious decision to do this.

Hands cradling his face, she hummed into the kiss as Roman pressed his body against hers. Everything about him right now made Tilly needy for him; the heat of his body, the smell of his cologne, the faint hint of alcohol still on his lips. She wanted him more and more as every second went by. And judging by his erection grinding against her thigh, he felt the same way.

Kissing her made him wonder about what it would be like if someone were to see, what they'd think. How would Kendall feel watching him kiss the girl who left him? The brother he was pitted against his whole life, finally losing. Why did Kendall even do drugs he thought, Matilda was addicting enough. What would Logan think of the way he was grinding his crotch against hers? The father who often spat homophobic slurs at his sons lack of dating history. What would her Dad think, would he be proud? He did give Roman his tick of approval after all.

Romans lips sucked at her neck, slowly moving their way down to her collarbone as his hands drifted up her pyjama shirt to cup each of her bare breasts. He moved so slowly that it almost seemed like he was savouring the moment. A small part of Tilly hoped that he would leave a secret mark on her skin, a purple bruise to commemorate their midnight meet up. As he slid backwards off of her, he knelt on the ground at the foot of the bed before pulling her closer to him by her thighs.

Propping herself up on her elbows so she could watch him, she found herself almost admiring the angle in which she saw him slip his fingers underneath each side of her underwear. He pulled them off slowly, letting them fall from her ankles and onto the carpet.

What would her mother think of this? She hated Waystar from the very depths of her core, including the Roy family. Roman assumed she'd have a coronary if she ever found out about this. And the old bastards at this very summit? Almost every man in the room last night had stared her down, how would they feel if she were standing by his side and not theirs? What would they think if they knew Roman's tongue was the one who got to taste her like it was right now.

"Move a little further down Rome... Just- Yep, stay right there... Oh Fuck..."

She gasped and reached down to grab his hair instinctively, tugging at it which made him smirk gently against her skin. He was becoming lost in her, the way her perfume lingered on her skin, the sound of her moans, the electric feeling he got whenever she touched him with her hands.

Surprising both of them, Roman brought Tilly to her climax, resulting in her pulling his hair tightly and screwing her eyes shut.

"That was fucking disgusting," Roman grimaced, getting off the bed and walking away as quickly as he had jumped onto the bed in the first place.

She watched him walk off with wide eyes before her gaze softened. At first she thought he was just making light of the slight discomfort he had with intimacy but hearing the door of her room shut behind him made her feel completely shell shocked. Was he seriously that quick to regret what they had done?

She wanted to cry but she couldn't, she just sat there. Overwhelmed, confused and somewhat numb. It could have been five minutes she sat there just staring at the wall, or maybe even ten. It could have pushed fifteen. Eventually she did manage to pull herself out of her daze and disappointedly wriggled back underneath the covers of her bed, turning the bedside table lights off to settle in for the night.

Until she heard another knock.

Roman stood at her door with the ends of his hair damp and the strong smell of his signature body wash prominent in the air. Tilly noticed the small veil of disappointment in his eyes, although he was quick to compose himself, faking a smile to greet her.

He was back to being Roman the Showman again.

"D'you miss me? I needed to shower and jerk off, and your room smelt too much of cum and desperation," he taunted once she opened the door, smiling as he once again moved past her and into her room. He simply acted like nothing had happened.

It had been a long time for Roman, too fucking long since he had enjoyed pleasuring another person. He couldn't remember the last time he initiated having his head between a woman's thighs instead of reluctantly doing it to shut them up. He went down on Grace because she always complained he never did. And Tabitha- Well, he couldn't recollect if they got that far but he figured it couldn't have been that great if he couldn't remember.

She knew that that Roman coming back was a good sign. The first time they kissed she ignored him for two weeks and refused to talk about it again. But tonight? Yes, he had freaked out and left her alone, but he had also now returned to her room. That was big for him. And she didn't want to push the envelope and scare him away for good.

"You woke me up," she lied, crawling back into her bed and slipping underneath the covers again. She told him that she was going to sleep and that he could either join her or go back to his room. She took his hesitation as a 'I want to sleep here' and patted the bed next to her to encourage him. It was dark, but not dark enough that they couldn't see each other.

"You're so fucking obsessed with me," he taunted, following her lead by getting into her bed on the other side. Instinctively she rolled closer to him and he outstretched his arm underneath her. Knowing that the darkness of the room would stop her seeing him smiling like a kid in a candy store, he lightly pushed his fingers through her hair. Stroking. Caressing.

"Goodnight Rome, I'm proud of you."

"Shut the fuck up. Wow, I made you cum, who cares? No need to prepare a heartfelt speech," he huffed back, the heat from his breath warm against her scalp.

Again, struggling with the intimacy of silence, he filled it with more words. "Out of curiousity, if I said I was into you, which I'm not, what uh- What would you say?"

"Is this a test?" She asked quietly before yawning.

"Is this a test? Fuck you," he said pulling his arm out from underneath her and rolling over.

"Oh stop, don't be stupid," she said pulling his arm back for him to face her again. "If you really came up to me and you were like 'wassup bitch tits, I'm into you', I would probably just say 'I know' and carry on as usual,"

"For the record, I would never say wassup bitch tits," he scoffed, pulling her closer against his chest as she slipped her leg over his waist and nuzzled her head into his chest.

She could hear his heartbeat, fast yet soothing. It was like it reminded her that Roman Roy did in fact have a heart and it wasn't cold and dead like so many presumed. His arm moved so his hand could rest gently on her thigh, the two of them intertwined like this was something they did every day for fifty years. Tilly thought that if she didn't mention his rare act of affection and how unlike him it was, he wouldn't get scared and back away. Maybe one day he would learn to sit in the silence and enjoy it.

"But I'd also say that I was into you too," she added. "For the record."

_________
A/N: Wow, this chapter was just over 11,000 words and officially my longest ever chapter. I'm sorry it took so long to write, I had all these amazing ideas and planned out the next fifteen chapters but writers block was stopping me from actually writing anything other than dialogue. Sorry if this chapter sucks major ass; my mind is going nut-nut right now from my job