“Okay,” I say quietly, and then I climb into bed with him and let him curl me into his side.
And then later on, in the dark dead of night, he rolls me to my back and makes good of his promise to fuck me slow. When we both find completion in each other’s arms again, I roll into him voluntarily and fall into a deep, peaceful sleep.
When I wake up the next morning, he’s gone, proving I was right all along.
“Press Secretary Officially Off the Market”
Chapter 8
Apparently, Africa is Out
Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” blares from the speaker on the docking station that sits on top of my nightstand. It’s a fitting tribute to the heap of trouble I keep finding myself in over and over again.
And yet, I stay on the merry-go-round.
Without opening my eyes, I blindly reach out and grab my phone from the dock and silence my alarm. I drop it back down on the tabletop before reaching across the bed for the mass of man and muscles I let talk me into bed last night. Again.
And also again, it was a wishful hope I shouldn’t have engaged in, because my arms encounter nothing but cool sheets that obviously haven’t been slept in for some time.
I open my eyes, and in the early morning light, I can just barely see the indentation in the pillow next to mine, left by his head. I close my eyes tight against the memories of him lounging there, naked and aroused for me, as they slam into my brain. But I can’t let that happen.
It’s like he was never here, but my body feels otherwise, and the way my leg muscles shake reminds me they were well used the night before.
I see a ton of notifications on my phone, but I don’t bother to look at them. I leave it where it’s sitting on my bedside table and make my way into the bathroom. I brush my teeth while the water heats up, and I feel my eyes widen as I take in the handprint bruises on my hips. Not once, ever in my entire life, has a lover taken me so roughly or used me up so thoroughly that they left marks on my body. And not once last night did Ryan do anything to hurt me.
I shake off more memories that flash through my brain of the last night we shared together. Something felt… I don’t, different, but I can’t quite put my finger on it. And trying to is a wasted effort. Nothing on that front will ever change. I need to get my head on straight and end this mess once and for all before someone gets hurt. And by someone, I mean me, because I’m obviously headed for a crash if my behavior yesterday is anything to go by.
I step out of the shower and quickly towel off. I comb out and blow dry my hair and pull it up in a strategically messy ballet bun. I brush my teeth and then dust on more makeup than I honestly feel like having on my face, but I have to be camera ready at any moment. Not to mention a little red lipstick goes a long way toward helping me build back up my armor.
I’m really regretting promising I wouldn’t move to Africa last night. I should have jumped on a plane instead of coming upstairs. Now I’m going to have to stick by my decision to stay, and I have a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach that it was a huge mistake.
I step into my closet and pull on lace panties and a matching bra. I tuck a white poplin blouse into wide-leg gray slacks and wrap a skinny black leather belt around my waist. I thread my diamond studs through my ears and loop my silver watch around my wrist before stepping into a pair of sky-high Louboutins. I grab my cell phone and take the stairs down to the kitchen. I grab my purse and toss my phone inside it before plucking my keys off the hook by the back door and leaving for the day.
I drop my purse on the front passenger seat where it buzzes some more, but I ignore it as I head for my favorite coffee house with a drive-thru. When I pull up to the window with a fake smile on my face and my cash ready to hand over, the kid at the window stutters and makes a weird sound before shaking his head and fixing his expression. That was weird. I wonder what was up with that.
I don’t bother to ask. I just get on the highway and head into the capitol. I would find out soon, that was a mistake.
I stay lost in my thoughts as I sip my coffee through the early morning traffic, and again while I park my car and make my way through the security line. I toss my coffee cup in a nearby trashcan and then pass through security, saying a quick good morning to the guards before heading down the hall to my office.
I pull out my cell phone and set it on my desk before dropping my purse into a drawer. There’s a stack of papers for my attention in a basket on my desk, and I push out a sigh. Today might be the Mondayest Monday ever. With Ryan’s alleged hunting accident, the truth of which the world can never know, and Rachel finally being home—again, something the world can never know about—it’s going to be a long press day.
Not to mention House Bill 2250 is still circulating. Jake is probably going to pop a gasket this morning, because I must have heard it mentioned no less than twelve hundred times Saturday night at the State Dinner. That is, when Ryan didn’t have me cornered either in a broom closet or after.
I fire up my computer and log in. It’s time I get a jump on the day before the morning press conference, when my phone buzzes again, and I reach for it. But before I can look at the screen, my office door swings open with a slam, and Grace’s assistant Carter barrels in.
“Where the fuck have you been?” he accuses me, and my stomach clenches. Something must have happened.
“What’s happened?” I ask.
“What hasn’t happened?” he squawks, pushing a hand through his hair, and I can practically see the tension rolling off him in waves. “How could you be sleeping with the enemy?”
I freeze in my chair. How could anyone know I was with Ryan over the weekend? He’s been so careful to sneak in and out without being seen. Hell, I don’t even know how or when he gets in. But for Carter to call Ryan “the enemy” doesn’t sound right to me.
“So you don’t deny it?” he snaps.
“Calm down, Carter,” Grace says, panting as she pushes her way into my office. “And Jesus, you’re built like a linebacker but move like a jungle cat. It’s an unfair advantage in my present state.”
“And what state would that be?” he asks, batting his eyelashes innocently.
“Huge,” Grace replies on a laugh as she takes a seat in one of the club chairs that face my desk. “Now, what’s this about you being in love with my villainous father-in-law?”
“What?” I shout, because I never in my wildest dreams would have thought that’s what Carter wanted to confront me about.
“This,” he says, tossing the Sunday edition of the Washington paper, “is what everyone is talking about.”
I pick up the paper and stare in a horrified fashion at the headlines on the front page. This can’t be. Why would he have done this? Why would they? This is so far fucked up I can’t even see straight.
“Fuck me,” I whisper while I stare at the headlines as if they could jump off the paper they’re printed on and bite me.
“Looks like it’s all in the family as things heat up between White House Press Secretary and President’s Father”
“Why would he say this?” I ask, dumbfounded.
“I don’t know,” Grace says calmly. “I was hoping you could explain it to me.”
“The picture is easy,” I start. “Someone must have taken it at the State Dinner, because I was wearing that red dress. But we were never around each other for very long.”
“I thought so too,” she says thoughtfully. “But why is he giving interviews saying you two are an item?”
“I don’t know,” I reply and think and think, and then it dawns on me. “Oh God.”
“What?” Grace and Carter both ask instantly.
“He approached me,” I admit. “About a political alliance, and I politely declined. I would never be overtly rude to the senior senator, but I’m just not interested.”
“What happened?” Grace asks.
“He hinted that a political match between us would be a boon for all involved,” I reply.
“I just bet that he did,” she mutters.
“I told him I wasn’t interested and thought that was it,” I answer. “He said he wouldn’t wait for me forever, so I figured he’d move on. I think I thought wrong.”
“That you did, my dear.” Carter sighs. “What a mess.”
“I’m not quite sure how to fix this,” I admit.
“We’ll figure something out,” Grace says, and I relax for the first time in a long time. Grace is the best friend I’ve ever had. “Jake will be happy to know the story is false.”
“I bet.” I laugh. “Where is Jake anyway? I’m surprised he’s not the one breaking down my office door for answers.”
“Jake and Rick were called away to some summit meeting or other,” she answers. “They should be back tonight.”
“Got it.” Well, at least I know I can settle some unhappy feelings with my favorite boss and bestie.
“Your parents will be another issue,” she says cautiously.
I let out a world-weary sigh. “I know. I don’t know what would possess them to give this interview.”
Grace watches me carefully, and I hate that she knows me so well, but at the same time, I love that she knows where all of the bodies are buried and still loves me anyway. She really is a great friend.
“You’re right. I do know why they gave that interview,” I say, amending my previous statement. “They would be over the moon for me to make such a strong match.”
“Even if he’s old enough to be your grandfather?” Carter asks.
“Even if he’s old enough to be my grandfather.” I sigh again. “They wouldn’t care as long as they got something big out of it.”
“But what about love?” Carter is married to a wonderful man who loves him and supports his dream as much as Carter loves him. I’m not sure he can understand a loveless match.
“They don’t need trivial things like love to make them happy,” I answer quietly.
“Well that’s just sad, and we won’t stand for it,” he rallies. “Now what are we going to do about this?”
A buzzer sounds in my office.
“Shit,” I bite out.
“What’s that?” Grace asks.
“It’s time for a Press Briefing,” I answer.
“Oh shit,” Carter repeats my earlier curse. “What are you going to do?”
“I’ll tell you what I’m not doing,” I answer him with a grim smile as I push out of my chair. “Apparently, I’m not going to Africa.”
“Africa?” he asks as I smooth my palms down the front of my slacks. “What about Africa?”
“Nothing.” I smile as I walk out the door.
“Good morning, ladies and gentleman,” I say as I step up to the podium in the press room. “I suspect this will be a quick one, as it’s a slow news day.”
Voices clamor all around me.
“What can you tell us about the hunting accident Captain Black was involved in?” someone shouts.
“Just that there was a minor accident and he is at home recovering,” I respond. “He has asked for privacy during his time of healing.”
“Has the president changed his stance on HB 2250?” someone else shouts.
“Not to my knowledge. President Chancellor is still openly opposed to House Bill 2250 and its dangerous implications.”
“Speaking of the president,” someone says, and I mentally brace. “How long have you been romantically involved with the president’s father?”
“I am not involved with anyone,” I reply with a bored expression pasted on my face. “And if I was, my personal life is not free for public consumption.”
“Was the president as happy about the relationship as your parents are?” someone asks.
“I will repeat that I am not romantically involved with anyone at this moment.”
“What about yesterday morning’s report in the paper?” someone asks.
“What about it?” I reply as if I haven’t a care in the world.
“Both the senior senator and your parents are quoted as being pleased with the match,” someone else says. “And you deny it?”
“I don’t deny that it seems all parties mentioned would be pleased with a match,” I answer and then smile. “I am just not one of those parties. And my parents have not been apprised of my love life for quite some time. As it’s my love life and I’ve previously stated that, one, it’s none of your business, and two, there is no love life to speak of, I think you should take my word for it. Now, since that seems all we have for this morning, I will see you all later. Make good choices.”
And then I walk out of the room with my head held high.
“Could Wedding Bells Be Ringing for FLOTUS BFF and President’s Father?”
Chapter 9
Finally something right
Buzz… Buzz… Buzzzzz…
My phone dances around on the kitchen counter. I had silenced it while I was driving home, because it was ringing nonstop. Worse yet, not only was it ringing nonstop, but it was my mother who was calling.
I’m not ready to deal with my parents and the interview they gave to multiple national news agencies, including my former employers at Eagle News. I know I’m going to have to eventually, but right now, I just can’t. What could they have possibly been thinking giving those interviews? And who told them I was involved with anyone, let alone a former U.S. Senator, because I certainly did not.
When I pulled up in front of my house, the whole front was covered with news vans and littered with paparazzi.
This cannot be happening.
I pulled around the house and into my driveway. If they didn’t go away soon, I was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future unless I could find a way to sneak out. Maybe it was time to get a cat. Grace would help me get one… or twelve, because she has a weakness when it comes to rescue felines. But a cat was definitely a valid plan.
Men are nothing but trouble.
“Jules!” one of the reporters shouted. Bobby, I think. We all knew each other in one way or another, because the news circuit is really a very small pool of people. It’s weird now that I’m on the other side of the mic. “Is it true?”
“You really want to ask me if all the news you read is true, Bobby?” I asked, and some of the other reporters whispered “Oooohhh” under their breaths. “I think we all know you can’t believe everything you read.”
“So you’re not marrying the senior senator?” someone else asked.
“No,” I answered politely. “I’m not currently involved with anyone.”
“So why did your family and the senator give those interviews?”
“Now that is the million-dollar question, isn’t it?” I asked. “I’ll let you know if I find out. Until then, have a good night guys. And let my Uber Eats guy through when he gets here, will ya!”
After that, I made my way into the kitchen, kicking off my heels on my way through the house. I dropped my bag on the marble top of the island and fished out my phone, bringing me to the present.
Seventeen. I have seventeen missed calls from my mother and zero from Ryan. Maybe I should’ve known. I don’t know why I expected him to call me, text me, send up smoke signals or a carrier pigeon or two, something. I don’t know.
We’re nothing. I know that. But still. I wish he would have reached out. But then again, what would he say to me? “Thanks for the orgasms. I hope you’re happy with your loveless match with a man old enough to be your grandfather.” Because he should know that no one will give me the kind of passion I have with him. And that’s the rub, isn’t it? There will never be another Ryan Black for me. My heart clutches painfully in my chest. Is this what a broken heart feels like?
I don’t know. I don’t have the answers, so I grab my phone and order Chinese food. If an order of mu shu chicken and extra cream cheese wontons can’t fix it, then nothing can. After I place my order, I make my way upstairs and change out of my slacks and silk blouse and exchange them for something more comfortab
le but still cute in case the news vans are still on my front lawn when I open the door for the delivery guy. I pull on seafoam-green yoga leggings and a white camisole tank. I top it with an oversized gray sweater that wraps across my front.
I drop my jewelry in the little bowl on my bathroom counter, scrub my face clean, and slather on some moisturizer. I’m home, and they need to know I’m home and not waiting for a man when I open my front door for dinner. I question whether my sweater is too nice or not for home alone activities and if I should toss a sweatshirt on instead. I give up, deciding I can’t give it any more of my time to fret over it.
I’m aware that I worry over trivial things when I feel like my life is spinning out of control. And I am spinning out of control. I have a sometimes lover who I can’t stay away from, even though I know there is no future there, and I have a man who is publicly claiming I am his lover for no reason that I can figure out, because I have never, not once, ever in my life been his lover. Not to mention he is the father of my boss, who just so happens to be the most powerful man in the world. And add in the fact that the global political climate is heating up uncomfortably, and everything is kind of a mess. I have too many things that need my focus right now, and none of them who are in my bed or wish to be are at the top of the priority list.
I make my way back downstairs and settle in on the sofa. I keep the curtains and blinds drawn, because I am not a Goddamn reality TV show and my life is no one’s business. I hear my phone buzz several more times, and I ignore those too.
I pick up the TV remote and turn it on to the old movie channel. My favorite movie The Women is just starting. I love the way this mismatched group of women bond together and help each other through tough times. It’s kind of like Grace, Angie, and me. We’ve been friends since that first rush weekend. I don’t know how or why, but we just clicked.
Now, Angie is off living her best life with a national football star in a small town in Texas. He gave her a baby after she accidentally became YouTube famous. I should go visit them soon. I need a break to get my head on straight. Although, a little voice in the back of my mind whispers that when Grace went to Texas to get her head on straight, she came back pregnant and engaged to the future president of the United States.
The Press Secretary's Passion (A Presidential Affair Book 3) Page 8
