President Stepbrother...With Benefits: A Bad Boy Alpha Male Stepbrother Romance

by Victoria Cabot

  I approach the Blue Room and the Secret Service agent standing at the beginning of the hallway nods at me. I nod back and smile. That's Agent Johnson. He's had to do some overnight shifts a few nights. I remember bringing him some milk and cookies a couple weeks back. He ate them after his shift - he's not allowed to eat or drink anything unless necessary during his shift.

  I knock on the door to the Blue Room and there's no answer. I look to Agent Johnson at the far end of the hall but he stands silent, looking past me. He might as well be a statue. Sighing, and hoping I don't cause an international incident, I push open the door and walk in.

  Oh my God. There's roses everywhere. Two long rows of bouquets of red roses creates a path from the door all the way to the center of the room. Vases of orchids and white roses fill the area behind them.

  I catch my breath. It's beautiful. Whoever did this has the soul of an artist.

  I get caught up in the beauty and take a step forward into the room. It smells heavenly - the smell of the roses sweet and cloying, and it transports me out of the White House and out of Washington DC, to a magical garden. I keep taking steps until I get to the center of the room. There's a small table and something on it.

  I gasp again. It's the antique jewelry box that I saw and loved in the old antique store that Austin and I first went to in Georgetown. This was right after he rescued me from Jake. The day that we spent together was magical. I remember every second of it.

  But what is it doing here? I remember the owner telling Austin that it wasn't for sale. That it was on load at the store until the place it was housed in The National Gallery was done being renovated. What's it doing here?

  "I've been on the phone a lot, Ash," a voice says behind me and I turn around. There's Austin. He's wearing a tuxedo - all dressed up. When did he get that on? He left in a regular suit.

  "You'd be surprised how many people you have to call and beg to buy something like that box," he's saying as he walks up towards me. "Even if you're the President of the United States."

  I'm looking at him. He bought me the jewelry box. I can't believe it. It's so beautiful. This room is so beautiful. He did all this for me. What a great surprise.

  "Go ahead," he says nodding to me. "Open it."

  Why? I don't have any words as I turn around, and with trembling fingers, open the beautiful, old jewelry box.

  Inside is a ring.

  A dazzling diamond ring.

  This can't be happening.

  Oh. My. God.

  I pull out the ring. It's so beautiful.

  My stomach is filled with butterflies and my heart is beating. I'd always thought this was just what people say but it's seriously true! I am nervous, excited, apprehensive, anxious, and giddy all at the same time.

  I turn around and Austin is on one knee.

  My heart literally stops.

  He takes my hand in his and looks up at me.

  "Ashley Draper," he starts. "From the day I met you I knew there was something so special about you. And even though you're in my life now, I still don't know what it is. All I know is that it makes you the most precious thing in my life and that you make me the happiest man in the world."

  He takes the ring from my hand and looks back at me, offering it to me.

  "I won't ever know just why you are so perfect. Why you make me feel the way that you do. But the more I find out, the more I want to know," he continues. "Will you, Ashley, do me the honor to continue exploring for the rest of my life what makes you special to me? Will you grant me the privilege of being my wife?"

  I am so happy I seriously feel like I'm going to die.

  There's no question about it. But I'm glad he asked.

  This is the most perfect moment. Ever.

  I try to say something but my voice is dry. I manage to squeak a "Yes."

  He's still looking at me when I finally get a real word out. "Yes," I say. "Yes, oh God, yes!!"

  He smiles and puts the ring on my finger and I wrap my arms around him and literally fall on him. All the while I'm saying, "Yes, yes!!"

  Austin stands up, lifting me like a feather and I take his face in my hands and reach up and kiss him. Over and over.

  This is the happiest day of my life.

  He wraps his arms around me and kisses me back.

  At some point he looks back behind him and nods to someone I don't see. The doors to the Blue Room close.

  Oh boy. I know what's coming next.

  I'm so glad I wore that lace bra and thong.

  17

  Austin

  Ashley and I finally leave the Blue Room a few hours after she accepts my wedding proposal. I'm the happiest fucking guy on the face of the fucking planet.

  I mean, Ashley agreed to marry me. I'm so fucking excited. But I'm worried too. I mean, our parents are okay with it. But how is the rest of the country going to react?

  So far, we've somehow managed to keep our secret from the press. But, I mean, it's only a matter of time. I know this. Nothing stays a secret for too long in Washington D.C. And the President of the United States fucking his stepsister is just not going to stay hidden. It's too juicy. I mean, Secret Service has to know by now. What's their call sign for Ashley? Right. Princess. So Secret Service has to know that Hot Shot is fucking Princess. Pretty soon, the White House staff will have to know too. We can't keep this hidden forever. It's not fair to Ashley. Or the American public.

  That makes this conversation I'm going to have with Leon even more difficult.

  I'm sitting at the Resolute desk in the Oval Office when Leon comes in for our meeting. All I have for this afternoon is a strategy meeting with Leon and a sit down with the Joints Chief of Staff and then I can go back to Ashley. Just thinking about her is getting me hard. I’m going to bend her over the dining room table and fuck her till she cums like she did in the Blue Room.

  I tell myself to snap out of it and focus. Ever since I fired Nadia as my Chief of Staff, Leon’s been filling in and he’s doing a really good job at it. His media savvy has really helped us get to a point where the convention in the next few days is going to be a real toss-up. Before this, it was going to be a major fucking disaster.

  “Hey Leon, before we get started, I got a really quick question for you,” I tell him as he settles down.

  “Of course, Mr. President,” he says and pulls out a notepad to take notes.

  “I want to gauge a potential impact on the office of the President in the event of a hypothetical scenario,” I begin.

  “Very well,” Leon says, beginning to look worried.

  “In the hypothetical situation that a President is in office as a bachelor, what would be the reaction of the public if he were to have a new significant other?” I ask, with pointed words.

  Leon is writing something on his notepad before looking at me. “Well, firstly, the most eligible bachelor in the world would be nearly gone for half the country’s population,” he says with a smile.

  I laugh as he continues, “There would be intense media scrutiny into the background and private life of the woman in question – assuming it is a woman,” he tells me.

  I nod. Leon takes another pause and I notice that since taking the Chief of Staff job it looks like his hair has gotten more grey. “The woman would be vetted by the media and there would be a general feeding frenzy. The gates would be thrown open for any journalistic outfit to try and tease out a scandal.”

  “Fuck,” I say, wondering what this is going to do to Ashley. Leon continues. “You have to understand, sir, that our current Presidential primary system does this every four to eight years. You went through it yourself when running for Congress, and to an extent you’re going through it now. It’s just that the normal media scandals that get created seem to have little effect on you due to your…unique nature.”

  “You mean the fact that I’m a fucking asshole?” I ask with a smile.

  “You haven’t been abashed about being yourself, sir,” Leon says with a smile.
/>
  I sigh. Here it comes. “Hypothetically, what would happen if the significant other were related in some way to the President?”

  Leon’s face goes white. I realize I’ve misspoken and quickly correct myself. “If the woman in question was the President’s stepsister, for example, by marriage. No blood relation, but just a legal relation. What would happen then?”

  Fuck. I’ve pretty much effectively told Leon I’m fucking Ashley. But he’s as calm as a fucking cucumber. I swear to God, I could get out of my chair and exit the Oval Office and moon Mrs. Winters and he wouldn’t bat an eye.

  “In a hypothetical situation such as that, sir, we’d have a little bit of a problem. If left to itself, the story would spiral out of control and the public would be galvanized in a knee-jerk response against the hypothetical President. There would be charges upon charges – each would be more salacious than the next. There would be questions of judgment and propriety. There would most definitely be investigations by Congress…”

  “Investigations into what?” I interrupt Leon.

  He takes a deep sigh. “Into whether the President has the mental bearing to continue in office, most likely. As to whether sexual favors were traded in a way that compromised the national interest. The list could go on and on.”

  Fuck me. This shit is going to blow up in my fucking face. I look at Leon and ask the question that we both know is underneath all this. “If word spreads and I confirm that I have a relationship with Ashley, what’s the worst I’m looking at, Leon?” I ask.

  He takes a deep breath and says one word, looking me in the eyes.

  “Impeachment.”

  “Fuck!” I slam the desk. “But we’re not related, at all Leon!” I shout at him.

  He keeps his cool. “It doesn’t matter, Mr. President. It has a hint of scandal and the media will seize on it instantly.” He looked at me pointedly. “How do you like the nickname President Pervert, sir?”

  I collapse back onto my chair. I fucking want to hit something.

  “That’s the worst case scenario, sir. But…” Again I don't let him finish, interrupting him to see what he was going to say.

  “What’s the but?” I ask.

  Leon takes yet another deep breath. “But, there are many things we can do if we can fight this to prevent impeachment, sir. It’s a pretty simple list of actions that we can do to minimize some of the brunt.”

  Bingo. My way out of this fucking mess.

  “What are they, Leon?” I ask.

  “As soon as we can, we need to disavow and distance ourself from pardoning Oliver Trask,” he informs me.

  I swear to God I’m aging in this job by the minute. No wonder they limit the fucking term to eight fucking years. People would die on the fucking job.

  “Fuck, Leon,” I say. “That’s how I started seeing her in the first place.”

  He nods his head. “I understand, Mr. President. But in order to save your relationship with Ms. Draper and your Presidency, you cannot make a criminal pardon one of the first acts that you perform. It will call your judgment too much into account and you will lose the Convention by the type of landslide that has never been seen in electoral history. Even if you win at the Convention and stay, this coming out will break your back. The American people won’t have any patience left.”

  I lean back and take stock of the fucking situation. For one brief moment, I wish I was just a regular schmo on the street. Who didn’t have to deal with the fucking world on his shoulders and could just live with the girl of his dreams without having to explain shit to everyone.

  But I’m not that guy. I’m as close to the king of the world as you can get. Even if some days like today it doesn’t feel like that.

  “To save me and Ashley, I have to sacrifice Ashley,” I say to myself.

  Leon, intending it as a question looked at me. I could see sympathy in his expression as he nodded and said, “It would appear so, Mr. President.”

  Fuck. I hate this. The only thing I have going for me is that this morning Ashley suggested the same thing. Maybe it won't be so bad.

  “Okay, when's the earliest you can announce?” I ask him.

  “There's a White House Press briefing this evening. I’ll have a statement drafted in the next half hour and we can release it tonight ahead of the briefing.”

  I nod. That gives me enough time to have a sit down with Ashley and let her know. If we work together, we can get through this. I’m sure of it.

  I thank Leon and he nods for the final time and gets up, leaving the Oval Office as I start heading in the other direction towards the Pentagon.

  As President, I shouldn't have to drive all the way to the Pentagon. They should be coming to The White House to come see me. But this morning, it dawned on me that I’ve been the leader of the free fucking world since late February and I haven’t ever toured the Pentagon. Tourists from all over the fucking world have seen more of the Pentagon than I have.

  And so I spend the rest of the day with General Wallace. It’s 3 pm and I’m in his office and thinking another hour and I’ll head back to the White House when one of my aides runs up to me. His face is pale as a fucking ghost.

  “Mr. President,” he says, gulping. “I have Leon on the phone for you.”

  I take the phone.

  “Mr. President, we have a problem,” Leon says bluntly, with very little emotion. “Please turn on a television.”

  Fuck. That can’t be good.

  I point to the television in the General’s office and my aide turns it to the news. He turns up the volume.

  “…sources are confirming that The White House will be backing away from its controversial stance to pardon Oliver Trask. We’ve obtained a text copy of the statement that was drafted this morning. Again, on the heels of the Constitutional Convention, many observers believe that President Bain is appealing to those who viewed the desire to pardon Oliver Trask as making his judgment unfit to serve. Our sources are also stating under condition of anonymity that President Bain wishes to distance himself from the organization that initially requested the pardon, the American Cancer and Poverty Elimination Institute, due to his belief that the Institute is plagued by massive corruption, ties to foreign governments and organized crime…”

  Fuck. How could this have fucking happened? I just had the conversation with Leon maybe five hours ago. Was it Leon?

  “Leon,” I growl into the phone. “What the fuck is going on?”

  There was a deep sigh from the other end of the line. Finally, Leon spoke. “It appears, Mr. President, that Nadia had retained contacts in the Press Office even after she left. She’s been waiting for us to do something like this. I’ve let go of the staffer who leaked news of our pardon to her. And I believe she’s the source behind these allegations of ties to organized crime and corruption to hurt you in the next few days.”

  “But it’s completely fucking untrue, Leon!” I yelled into the phone. “We never had any doubt that the Institute is dirty. They’re not mobsters!”

  “I know that, sir. And you know that. But the rest of the country doesn’t. And the delegates in a few days won’t know. By the time we push back on the story and the truth comes out, clearing us, it won't matter because the Convention will already have voted and it will have struck down HR-222.”

  Fuck. I couldn’t fucking believe it but Nadia had played it fucking beautifully. If I could get that fucking bitch in a room…

  The commentator continued on the television, “…sources are also stating that the President’s stepsister, Ashley Draper, herself has had ties to the pardon of Oliver Trask, personally lobbying the President for a pardon. The source goes on to state that the nature of the lobbying may have crossed ethical lines, as Miss Draper and the President acted very close on a number of occasions, potentially sharing an improper sexual relationship…”

  Jesus fucking Christ.

  I had to fucking get back to The White House.

  I left the Pentagon a few minutes
later and my motorcade roared to life. Probably the only fucking time so far that it didn’t move fast enough as I zoomed through the traffic. But I couldn't go any faster.

  I kept trying to get an aide to reach Ashley, but her phone was disconnected. Made sense. The press was probably blowing up her phone.

  I raced out of the car and for once the Secret Service agents didn’t try to stop me or keep up. They followed and alerted agents in my path to give me a wide berth.

  “Ashley!” I yelled as I got into the Residence.

  She wasn’t there. I ran through my room, the living room, parlors, dining rooms, study, theater, kitchen. She was nowhere. I even checked the fucking bathrooms. I finally ran into her rooms. Some clothes were on the bed and it her drawers were empty. I noticed two suitcases missing from the closet.

  She was gone.

  Fuck.

  That’s when I noticed that the television was on.

  “…The American Cancer and Poverty Elimination Institute has just announced that they have terminated the employment of Miss Draper and her direct supervisor due to allegations of impropriety in the pardon of Oliver Trask. Miss Draper has been employed with the Institute for several years, but in recent months has been seen more often at the side of the President than at the Institute. Prior to assuming the office of President, Austin Bain served as Speaker of the House of Representatives where he lived the life many termed of a billionaire playboy. The President was a frequent feature of tabloid papers who latched onto his antics…”

  She was going to see all this splashed all across the fucking papers, television, and Internet. Anything I had with Ashley was gone – trampled by the media.

  My Presidency was going away. Ashley was already gone.

  I had a day and a half and I was all alone.

  Just like I’d always been.

  Fuck.

  I needed to save myself. I’d gotten soft over the last few month and it was time to bring out the brass knuckles and start swinging. I didn’t care who got hurt.

  Because my life was already ruined.