This shit is crazy. And it's not what I do. I don't fucking put my entire fucking life on hold for one woman. I don't run out of moving vehicles looking to rescue every single damsel in distress when I'm one of the biggest targets in the world. This is not the fucking Austin Bain that you know and despise because he slept with your sister and never called back.
But there I fucking am, in the backseat of a fucking Presidential limo, holding onto Ashley as if I want to protect her from the fucking world.
Because I was involved in an altercation and Secret Service is still apprehending that fucker that lay his hands on Ashley, the motorcade goes into full "back to base" mode and we storm through DC traffic. Traffic lights don't mean shit and within a few minutes we're back outside the White House. Agent Daniels is opening the door and he looks at me. I'm expecting some sort of rebuke from the guy, but the only thing he asks is, "Sir, I'm going to need to take a look at Ms. Draper to see if she needs medical assistance."
Ashley peeks out from my shoulder. "I'm okay," she protests. "Really."
Agent Daniels turns his body and he lets an elderly lady in a military uniform skirt into the limo. She climbs in. Her hair is steel gray and she looks at me pointedly. "Mr. President, my name is Mamie Rogers. I've been a doctor with the US Navy for twenty years now and I travel wherever you go. I'd like a few moments with Ms. Draper to ensure that she's alright and there's no lasting trauma. Please."
Shit. I may be the most powerful man in the fucking world but this elderly female doctor has me beat. I don't even try to insist that I stay. Instead, I look over at Ashley and tell her, "I'll be right outside, okay?"
She nods her heads and gives me a weak smile and I get out of the car. The door shuts and I'm left standing around with Agent Daniels standing next to me as he scans the fucking horizon to make sure that we're safe. I laugh to myself. We're in the center of the fucking world. What could happen to me here? With Agent Daniels, you never fucking know, I'm beginning to realize. I mean, he's probably ready for any eventuality. Like someone hopping the fence with a machine gun and shooting at me. Or a fucking bird with a death wish diving down from the skies looking to poke out my eye. In a way, I really respect that.
"Sorry for running out of the car earlier, Agent Daniels," I say, breaking the silence. "You guys are only trying to do your job. I didn't mean to cause as much confusion. It's just that..."
Agent Daniels doesn't let me finish. "Sir, I've been on this job a long time. You see power do a lot of things to people." He pauses and looks at me. "This is the first time in my life I've really respected a person that I'm protecting. I can't say it professionally, but personally, sir, I'm impressed."
I give him a broad smile. Fuck yeah! That's what I'm talking about!
I shake his hand and head inside to wait for Ashley there. I hear Agent Daniels talk into his microphone that he keeps wired underneath the sleeves of his coat. It's how he communicates with his agents. "Hot Shot is entering the Castle, over. Hot Shot entering the Castle."
What the fuck. That's my call sign for Secret Service to refer to me? Hot Shot. I shrug. I can live with that.
I get to the Oval Office and am just sitting down when Ashley comes in. She's a bit more composed and it looks like she's taken some time to calm herself.
"You cancelled your whole day, Austin?" she asks wide-eyed.
I nod my head. "I want to make sure you're okay," I say to her as she sits down on one of the white sofas in the middle of the room.
"Don't you have to do, like, Presidential things?" she asks me, eyeing me suspiciously.
I shrug. "Yeah, and I will, but it doesn't mean I can't take some fucking time off," I reply.
Ashley laughs out loud a little bit.
Curious, I squint at her. "What?" I ask.
She shakes her head. "It's nothing," she says. Then she looks at me, with amusement in her eyes. "I can't believe you just said 'fuck'. I never expected the President of the United States to say that."
It's funny. I never did either. Well fuck that. I'm the fucking President. I can say whatever the fuck I want. Even if it's the word 'fuck'.
Ashley had already packed and brought some clothes over to the White House, so that was taken care of.
Then she asked me what we were going to do if I had the whole day put on ice and at first I didn't have a really good answer. I mean, shit, I haven't really ever spent the day with a girl before just hanging out. Usually, I'd say we should spend the day fucking, but Ashley's my sister. Okay, fine, stepsister. Can you imagine the fucking headline that would run the next day if I ever said something like that? I'm not even going to get into that. It's bad enough if the media gets news that I ran out of a car to punch some random guy.
In the end, it's Ashley that decides we should go out for a little bit.
Just leaving The White House is a nightmare by itself. First, I broach the subject to Agent Daniels that I want to go out amongst the people in Georgetown.
"Absolutely not, Mr. President. We haven't secured the area," he says.
"How long will it take you to secure if we want to walk?" I ask.
He considers for a while. "To remove people and cordon off the area, we can do it in about 24 hours. We'd place some snipers on the roofs to make sure no one has any vantage and get DCPD to create a perimeter."
What the fucking fuck?
We settle on taking the Presidential motorcade instead. Apparently it's much easier if we go in and out of places and remain mobile.
That's when I have a fucking epiphany. If I simply ask Secret Service permission, I'll spend the rest of my days in a protective cocoon in a bunker somewhere. So I go up to Agent Daniels and tell him, "Look, Agent Daniels, I need to go to a few places in Georgetown. In an hour. Do what you have to do."
I list out a few stores that I know and tell him we may be walking around.
He looks really upset, but he realizes he's going to need to be flexible and that I'm living up to the name Hot Shot.
Ashley doesn't seem to mind. After her brush with her ex-boyfriend, she's content staying as close to me as possible. For the next fifty minutes, we go up to the Residence and talk.
"Have you settled in at all?" she asks, looking around. The White House brought a few things over - mainly clothes and a few other boxes. But considering that I can't really go online on my own, or that I can't do anything unless 19 people clear it for security, there hasn't been a whole lot of stuff I've needed to bring over.
"I've only been here a few days. My old condo is just, hanging out," I say with a shrug.
She's running her hands along the marble countertops on the kitchen and looks at me. "This place is so not meant to a bachelor pad," she says with a smile. "Whatever are you going to do with yourself?"
I shrug again. "It needs a woman's touch," I say smirking.
She smiles back. "Maybe after July. After the convention. And the pardon,"
Fuck. The pardon. I really don't think that I should be pardoning that fucker Trask. But a deal's a deal. I fucking understand that bit. If it weren't for that fucker, Ashley wouldn't even be here.
Before we know it, the motorcade is ready and we're getting in. I swear it takes longer to get out of the fucking White House than it takes to get to the destination once the police and Secret Service agents stop all traffic.
A few pedestrians stop and gawk as we get out of the car once it pulls over on Prospect Street. I thank whatever luck that I have that there weren’t many pedestrians when I was punching out Ashley’s ex-boyfriend.
"Ooh! Look! Cupcakes!" Ashley squeals. I roll my eyes when she looks at me, but I walk with her inside.
We each get a cupcake and small coffee and sit down. Of course, Secret Service goes in before us and clears the entire fucking place before we get in. There's a big fucking agent standing behind the counter as the clerk takes our orders. As he’s ringing us up, he’s stealing wary glances at the agent.
“So, uhm, that’ll be…” the clerk
looks over to the agent who just shakes his head. “That’ll be uhmm, on the house, Your Majesty.”
What the fuck? Does this guy think I’m a king? Maybe it’s time I corrected him.
“Thanks, man,” I say. “But you can just call me Mr. President.”
Ashley’s eyes are twinkling but she rolls her eyes at me. Hell, even I can tell that I sound fucking cocky, telling people to call me Mr. President. Whatever. That’s what I fucking am.
Then the clerk asks for a selfie. That I can do. The agent scowls as Ashely takes our picture on his phone.
We sit by the window as people start crowding around the perimeter that was created and taking pictures.
"We should go soon," Ashley says finally. "We're hurting his business."
"Please," I say, smirking. "Do you know the lines out the door that form once this gets out. Everyone's going to get a fucking cupcake here," I tell her. It's fucking true. Even when I was Speaker, I used to go places and I saw people who would go there because they saw me doing it. Hell, at a grocery store once, I saw people getting bananas because I got some. Seriously. As in they passed the banana stand, saw me getting some, and went back to get some themselves. I shit you not. Nightclubs would routinely ask me to make an appearance – some even offering to pay me.
We eventually walk outside the cupcake shop and notice an antique store next door. Ashley looks through the windows and we both look at Agent Daniels. He speaks into his wrist and listens into his earpiece and nods at us. We go inside.
It's like being in a whole other fucking world as we go in. I'm transported to an alternate dimension before television, computers, or cell phones. There's old globes, maps, and rare books. I look over to the corner of the store that Ashley went to. She's looking at a jewelry box.
I walk over to her and she notices me coming. "It's beautiful," she says to me. She’s eyeing the intricate woodwork and gemstones embedded into the box.
I look over to the store owner who's smiling in our direction. "How much for the box?" I ask.
The owner gives us a pained expression. "Unfortunately, Mr. President, it's not for sale. We're only displaying it for the National Gallery while they renovate."
Ashley's face falls and I'm going to press further to get her the stupid box, but she lets it go. We browse around some more and then decide to leave. I glance back at the box. I'll be back.
We end up finally at the National Gallery itself, deciding to take in some art. Let me rephrase. Ashley decides she wants to take in some art. I'm the most powerful fucking man in the world. So I listen to her.
We browse through the Modernist exhibit and go into the collection of Renaissance paintings and eventually into the Classical sculptures.
"Austin," she says as we stare at some naked Roman dude with his cock hanging out. "I'm hungry. Can we get some food?"
Shit. We just had a cupcake like three hours ago. But instead, I say, "Sure, Ash."
I've taken to calling her Ash. I don't know when I started it. I think somewhere after the cupcake on Prospect Street.
I scan around. It seems Agent Daniels has adapted to our style, because he's no longer clearing out entire buildings and venues prior to our arrival. Now, it's just a massive wave of black-suited guys walking around us in a perimeter like a wall, always giving us at least twenty feet of space.
"What do you want?" I ask.
She seems to consider for a moment.
"Should we get some sushi? Steak?" I ask, wondering if we can go back to the Capitol Grille.
"No!" she pouts. "I want a hot dog!"
Well, that came out of the fucking blue. But I can deal with it. We start walking to the exit of the museum. People are lining up and taking pictures and whispering and pointing, but I've gotten used to it already. Ashley's a bit out of her element and starts looking really uncomfortable.
I look over at her and take her hand in mine and squeeze it reassuringly.
"Hey," I say and she looks at me. "Eyes ahead, or on me, okay?" I say to her. "Don't let them faze you."
Ashley smiles at me and nods her head and I hold her hand as we walk out of the Gallery.
There's a hot dog stand outside and I go up to the vendor to order two hot dogs. Ashley gets hers with onions, ketchup, mustard, mayonnaise and relish. I raise my eyebrows as he hands them over.
Only then do I realize I don't have my fucking wallet.
Why have I ever needed my wallet this entire time? They handle everything for me.
"That'll be $10, Mr. President," the vendor tells me, smiling.
Ashley looks at me as I feel my pockets to see if I have any change. I have nothing.
I look towards Ashley, nervous as fuck.
"I, uhm, seem to not have my wallet," I tell her.
She laughs out loud and pulls her purse up and takes out ten dollars. "The guy doesn't have money to pay the bill," she says with a smile. "Story of my dating life."
My cheeks are burning as she laughs to herself and pays the man. We sit and eat our hot dogs on a bench. Is it me, or am I getting too fucking turned on watching her eat that thing?
Fucking Christ. I need to stop fucking thinking like this. It's going to come out some time or another. I mean, she's my fucking stepsister. Eating a hot dog.
It still doesn't mean my cock isn't getting hard just watching her.
9
Ashley
It's evening by the time we get back to the White House. Austin invites me in for a drink, and the day has passed by so wonderfully, I can't help but say yes. After the Gallery, we got a snack, and then went over to the National Mall where we sat and talked. Austin's not such a bad guy as I thought he was. I mean, he hasn't been mean or nasty to me at all this entire time. I can't believe that it was just this morning that Jake had me by the throat. But somehow, being with Austin is magical.
That's just my fate though, that I have to have that magical moment with someone who's the leader of the free world. And if that's not a hurdle, then he's also my stepbrother.
Some girls just have all luck, don't they?
We make our way to the Residence, where the President and his family usually stay when in office. But it's just Austin, so the place seems really quite large for one person. Austin told me all about how there is a decorator who's been trying to get some of his time but he's been too busy so he keeps blowing her off. She's finding it very dreadful that he's living with the same decorations that the prior President used. I don't know if Austin even realizes those decorations when he comes in.
I sit down on the sofa and put my feet up while Austin is in the other room, going over some of the business that he put on hold. I honestly can't believe that he would put off his entire schedule the whole day because of me. The whole thing is still so surreal. That he even came to my rescue in the first place still boggles my mind.
At some point, Nadia, that campaign manager and Chief of Staff that he has, comes up and knocks. She tries to hide a scowl when she sees me, but I play it off. I'm the President's family. She can't do anything to me.
Besides, I like being around Austin. It doesn't hurt that all day my knees have been jelly and my panties have been wet just being near him. When he took my hand in his at the Gallery, I thought I was going to faint, my heart started fluttering so hard. And who wouldn't? The most ravishingly handsome man on the planet, the most eligible bachelor, the most powerful human being on earth, deciding to spend the day eating cupcakes and hot dogs with you? It's enough to make any girl fall in love.
I can't but help overhearing raised voices a second later and my ears perk up.
"...but the political fallout, sir," I hear his Chief of Staff, Nadia saying.
"I don't care," I hear Austin. "I'm not going back on my fucking word, Nadia."
"We can't pardon a convicted felon in our first 100 days. The world is watching."
"Fuck the world, then. I promised Ashley."
That's it, isn't it? At some point, our deal is going to cost Austin qu
ite a bit.
Whatever else gets said is drowned out but after a few seconds I see Nadia walking out. She looks at me and pauses as I look up at her from the sofa.
"Your friend, Trask, is going to destroy this administration before it even has a chance to start, Ms. Draper," she says snidely. I open my mouth to reply, but she's already turned her back and is gone.
I can't do that to Austin. Not after everything he's done for me. Not after today. Not after this morning.
I can't ruin his career because of my assignment. I'll find another way. But I can't tell him. He won't listen to me.
Tears come to my eyes as I realize that I have to leave. A magical day followed by a realization that breaks my heart.
I make sure that I'm out of the Residence before he comes back out to the living room.
Agent Daniels sends a Secret Service car to take me home and the agent tells me that he's under orders to stay outside my apartment. It's no use trying to argue - I saw what Austin had to go through to go to Georgetown, so instead I tell him to knock if he needs to use the bathroom or gets hungry.
My heart is heavy as I lie down on my bed. Tears are flowing freely. A part of my brain tells me that I didn't cry once when Jake left me last week. But having to walk out on Austin feels like I've given up something precious.
He's my stepbrother, I tell myself. There was nothing there that was mine in the first place. There couldn't have been. Even if he wasn't the President. Today was just an illusion. An illusion that he plays to make people fall at ease. It was nothing more than that.
I take off my dress that I had worn today and stand in front of the mirror. I turn around and look at my body in the profile. I had worn sexy lingerie - a black thong and a black lace bra. Why? Was I feeling sexy in the morning? Did I want to wear it for Austin?
President Stepbrother...With Benefits: A Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance Page 6
