“You look perfect. Did you eat?”
“I managed a few bites.” With his hand on the small of my back, he led me back to the dining room table where there were still ridiculous amounts of leftovers. Just how much food had he ordered? He poured a glass of orange juice and handed it to me. Then he placed a muffin on a plate and set it in front of me.
“It’s going to be a very long day. You need to eat.”
While I ate, I was briefed on the events of the day. They were mostly visits to community centers and then a fundraising dinner hosted by a few wealthy donors. When I looked up at Jameson, he must have understood my fearful expression because he smiled widely.
“We will come back here to change, but it will be quick. Maybe you should select what you’re going to wear now.”
“Okay. Is it black tie?” I tried to recall whether or not I had seen evening gowns on the rack.
“It’s just cocktails.”
I breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing too glamorous, which meant comfort. I could handle a low-key event for my first fundraiser.
It wasn’t long after that we left for the first event. Another black SUV with heavily tinted windows waited for us. I was also given a gift when I got myself settled—bound copies of Jameson’s policy proposals.
“You should read that whenever we’re in the car. Not only are you my fiancée, you also represent me. Anytime you’re speaking on your own, you’ll be expected to know this information.”
I didn’t have a problem supporting his proposals. Prior to meeting Jameson, I had voted for him in the primary election. I believed in everything he stood for and everything he wanted to achieve as president.
I spent the car ride doing as I was instructed. I felt that this was getting to know him better than reading a file full of biographical information. You could tell a lot about a person by what they believed in and stood for. I started with education.
I found myself engrossed in his policy. Everything that he was proposing from pre-k to higher education aligned perfectly with my own beliefs. A gentle hand on my arm alerted me and I looked up from the materials.
“We’re here,” Jameson informed me.
“Already?” I asked in disbelief. It didn’t feel like we had been in the car very long. I marked my spot and placed the materials in between us so they would be waiting for me when we finished with these events.
“What did you think?” he asked. The door opened and the driver stood there, but Jameson swooped in front of him and offered me his hand. I looked at him, surprised. One look from Jameson held so much power and I instantly relaxed when I saw his smile.
Our hands locked as he helped me out of the car. This was an official event; we were a real engaged couple now. “I think your policies are fantastic! They matched exactly what I believe about education and every area that I feel needs improving, you identified.”
“So can I count on your vote in the election this November?” His comment was cheeky and I couldn’t help but laugh. He looked down at me and his smile was mischievous and playful.
“Of course, Senator Martin.” My voice was husky and flirtatious and I gave him a coy smile.
“That’s President Martin.” He lifted my left hand to his lips and I realized this was now becoming a thing. He recognized that the press and his supporters loved any display of affection, and yesterday’s spontaneous kiss on the hand was now going to become his move. I looked around and noticed our entrance into the community center was being tracked by the countless number of reporters and photographers in attendance. He was giving them a show. The cheeky comment had been on purpose; he wanted them to see us laughing. And I’d played right into it.
“Can I introduce you to the next First Lady?” I had long ago lost my suit jacket and tie and stood before the packed auditorium with my shirtsleeves rolled up to my elbows and the top button of my once pristine shirt undone.
The audience cheered because they knew who I meant. I turned around to find Georgie. She was sitting in the first row, looking around her. Avon sat next to her and the two women shared a knowing look. Georgie looked practically giddy, but her face was crimson with embarrassment. She placed her hands on her cheeks and shook her head. I could tell that she didn’t want me to bring her up on stage; she was still so new to this. “Can I introduce you to the woman who has made my days brighter?”
The audience roared and my grin grew wider. Georgie bowed her head and covered it with her hands. After nearly three days of campaigning together, her nerves hadn’t disappeared. I walked to the edge of the stage and held out my hand to her. “Come on up here, little darling.”
I hadn’t meant to allude to the Beatles’ song during our first press conference together, but the moment I saw her, the lyrics popped into my head. Lewis and Jenkins advised me that I should stick with it; that it would become a “thing” to my supporters. When I looked out into the audience, I spotted a few signs with Georgie’s name written in a bright yellow sun. It amazed me how quickly she was accepted by the public. I was also advised to keep kissing her left hand because “it polled well with women in all demographics.”
“Have you met this beautiful woman? In case you haven’t, let me introduce you to her.”
Georgie took my hand and I pulled her up on the stage with me. She waved graciously and gracefully. She didn’t look wilted at all. She still looked fresh-faced, but that might have been because Lewis and Jenkins asked one of the stylists to follow us and provide constant touch-up to her hair and makeup. This afternoon, she wore a demure, white dress that was pleated on the bottom and had fluttery sleeves. Her hair was styled into a soft bun with loose pieces that framed her face.
I put my arm around her waist and pulled her into my body. I kissed the side of her head and we both smiled triumphantly as the crowd cheered. “Georgie, this is the crowd. Crowd, meet Georgie.”
There were choruses of “Hi, Georgie!” which made her laugh. She waved back and then took the microphone from me. We hadn’t prepared a speech for her for these first few days. We wanted her to speak off-the-cuff. She surprised me the first day, giving a short speech that could only be described as political gold. Georgie was gently encouraged to continue giving that speech; this was her third day and I found myself listening just as intently as the first time.
“Thank you so much for that amazing welcome! I am so honored to be here!” She paused, like a seasoned professional, while they applauded her. “I just wanted to speak to you for a moment about Jameson Martin and how I knew he was the one. I knew he was the one for me when he told me he supported funding early childhood education for low-income families because he believed that every child should have the opportunity to be successful. I definitely knew he was the one when he told me he wanted to expand funding for career and technical education so that students who wanted could begin their careers as soon as they graduated high school. He finally convinced me that he was the one when, instead of giving me flowers and jewelry, he gave me a copy of his educational policy proposals. Talk about a romantic, right?”
The crowd laughed. She was such a dynamo, fired up over education policy. It would be easy to love her if I just wanted to be Senator Martin for the rest of my life. But I didn’t. I wanted to be the next President of the United States of America.
“He’s the one, isn’t he? The one we need to elect to be our next President!” She grinned, feeding off the excitement of the crowd. We turned toward each other and I was ready to give her a hug, but she surprised me by wrapping her arms around my neck, standing on tiptoe, and planting her lips firmly on mine. My initial shock soon wore off; I reciprocated her kiss and pulled her closer, holding her firmly. She tasted vaguely of chocolate and mint and I was starved for more of her sweetness. I could tell she was surprised the moment she started to pull back, but I refused to let her. I held her tightly against my own body, relishing in the softness of her skin and the warmth of her lips.
Georgie started this kiss, but I ended it. I
pulled away slowly; I wanted to remain connected for as long as possible. I touched my forehead to hers and whispered, loud enough so only she could hear, “You’re full of surprises.”
She giggled. A gorgeous, musical laugh that was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard. I turned my attention back toward the crowd. The sound was deafening. I gently took the microphone from Georgie.
“I’m a lucky man.” I couldn’t help the sheepish smile that exploded on my face. “She’s going to make an amazing First Lady, don’t you think?”
The crowd roared. “I agree.”
Georgie stayed by my side while I finished my speech. I held tightly to her hand, refusing to let go until the very last second.
We were ushered out of the community center and into a waiting SUV. It was just the two of us; Lewis and Jenkins were riding with Sean, and the rest of my aides were in another SUV. I was completely alone with the woman I was engaged to and, for once, it was the only place I wanted to be.
I hit a button on the door and raised the partition screen that would give us a little more privacy. I didn’t want to scare her, but I wanted to be close to her again. I wanted her in my arms and my lips all over her body.
“Georgie,” I said softly, grabbing her hand.
“I know. I’m sorry,” she murmured, surprising me.
“Sorry? About what?”
“Kissing you. I was so excited and I got caught up in the moment. It won’t happen again.” She gave me a tight smile and pulled her hand from mine before turning back to the window.
But what if I wanted it to happen again? What if I could have both her and the presidency?
I had to stop whatever was starting in its tracks. I got carried away with my speech, had let the excitement of the crowd fill me. Watching Jameson deliver his stump speeches throughout the last few days was inspirational. He was so passionate about this country, it was hard not to get excited, not to feel empowered.
When I finished speaking and turned back toward Jameson, I did what any woman would do. I kissed him. And it felt so fucking good. It felt unbelievable to have his hands on me, to have his lips against mine…to feel like I was his. But we both had to protect ourselves. He had to stay focused on winning the election and I had to stay focused on not getting my heart broken.
We rode in silence for the remainder of the trip back to the hotel. We didn’t say a word as we walked through the lobby, boarded the elevator, and returned to the hotel suite we now shared. We went our separate ways once inside, disappearing into our respective bedrooms. I wasn’t sure how much time we had before we needed to leave for another fundraiser, so I didn’t bother with a shower. I quickly washed the heat of the day away with just a lukewarm washcloth and then touched up my makeup and hair. I slipped on a pair of olive green shorts and the cool air felt heavenly on my bare legs. I pulled a loose, ivory top over my head and tucked it into my shorts, and completed my outfit by cinching a leather belt around my waist and stepping into a pair of leather sandals. I kept the other accessories, a gold chain and pearl earrings, on because they still complimented my outfit.
When I walked into the living area, Jameson was alone, standing by the wall of windows that overlooked the city. He was wearing a pair of red shorts and a loose, light blue button-down shirt, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. From his posture, I could tell he didn’t want to be disturbed.
I busied myself preparing the little brown leather cross-body purse the stylist had kindly left for me. I didn’t think I’d need much, but I still slipped in my compact, lip gloss, a hair tie, and my identification.
“I didn’t hear you come out.” Jameson’s solemn voice startled me. I looked up to find his expression was somber. “You look nice. Are you ready?”
“Yes. Thank you. You look nice as well.” I hadn’t noticed Jameson holding one of the crystal tumblers from the bar until he placed it to his lips. He finished his drink in one large swallow and then set it in the wet bar sink.
Jameson grabbed his wallet from the credenza in the suite’s foyer and opened the door, holding it long enough for me to pass through, then continued walking ahead of me. The silent treatment lasted the entire elevator ride, through the lobby, and made its way into the back of our SUV.
“Jameson.” I saw his jaw tense. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I’m just exhausted. This is our third fundraiser this week. Thank fuck it’s a clambake.”
“Are you sure?”
Jameson turned toward me, patted my hand gently, and then looked away. I suspected more than just exhaustion was the cause of his cold shoulder.
The awkwardness between Jameson and me continued for the rest of the evening. Once we arrived at the clambake fundraiser, Jameson disappeared. I felt like a floundering fish, gasping for air. I was a stranger in a foreign environment. People tried to make small talk but mostly ignored me. The one saving grace was tonight’s event took place on a massive waterfront estate that had a private beach.
I walked down to the beach and found a row of Adirondack chairs lined up, facing the ocean. There were some torches lit in the area, giving it a warm, cozy glow, as well as a fire pit that had a roaring fire. I bypassed the chairs and went for the water’s edge where I sat down and let the ocean tease my toes.
I loved the saltiness of the air and the pungent smell that was distinctly ocean. There was a light breeze that took the edge off the humid night and I was perfectly content to sit there and stare out at the moonlit waves.
“Well, what’s a pretty girl like you doing out here all alone?” The voice was male, raspy, and had a definite Southern twang. I looked up to find the owner of the voice and saw the brightest, whitest, and fakest smile ever.
“Just enjoying the fresh ocean breeze,” I replied politely. I didn’t want to make small talk with the guy. In fact, I wanted him to leave so I could continue enjoying my own company. He took my answer as an invitation to join me. I rolled my eyes and scooted over in the sand just a little bit.
“I know who you are, Ms. Washington, but let me take a moment to introduce myself. My name is Russell Atlee.” He held out his hand, but I declined to take it. Something about him rubbed me the wrong way. Maybe it was the disingenuous smile. Maybe it was his too-tan skin. Or maybe it was the way he wore a stupid white sweater over his navy blue polo. Seriously, did he think that everyone who lived on the East Coast was a Yuppie from the ’80s?
“I regret to inform you, Mr. Atlee, that I’m not really in the mood for company right now.” My voice was cool and low. I refused to look him in the eye, so I remained focused on the ocean.
“Trouble in paradise already?” Something about his tone made me finally look up at him and make eye contact. His brown eyes gleamed with nothing but the worst of intentions.
“That’s none of your business. I’d really like to be left alone, please.”
Then he did something so unexpected and vile that I remained frozen in place. He slapped his hand down on my thigh and moved it up my leg until he was at the spot where leg fused with hip. Then, he slid his hand down my inner thigh and back up until he was literally cupping my sex. “That’s not going to happen, little girl.”
I swallowed. I felt my entire body tremble in fear. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him lean in close. I felt his hot breath on my neck as his hand held me firmly. His nose grazed my earlobe and then I felt the wetness of his tongue and sharpness of his teeth as he nipped it. I felt sick to my stomach and wanted to scream, to flee, but my fear kept me immobile.
“I can smell the scam that you and Jameson Martin are trying to pull on the American people.” His voice grated over my skin.
I shivered with revulsion and choked back the bile stuck in my throat.
“I have no idea what you mean,” I replied through gritted teeth.
“I think you’re a liar, Ms. Washington.” Mr. Atlee’s voice was a menacing hiss. “I’m going to figure out this little scheme you’ve got going on and when I do, you and Senat
or Martin will pay. And while we’re on the subject of payment, our little exchange has been photographed. Kindly inform the senator that it will cost him to keep these photographs from accidentally leaking. He can give me a call when he’s ready to negotiate.”
Russell Atlee held a white business card in front of my face so that I could see it. Then he tucked it into the pocket on the front of my shirt, palming my breast roughly before removing his hand. He leaned in once more and kissed my cheek sloppily before standing. I waited until he was gone before I doubled over and retched until my body had nothing left to give.
I remained on the beach, permanently affixed to that one spot. His touch lingered on my body, causing another round of dry heaves.
“Georgie!” I could hear Jameson’s shout from behind me, but I couldn’t bring myself to move, to look at him. This was his presidency to lose and I was now the weak link, the chink in his armor.
“Georgie!” he shouted for me again. It must have been hard for him to see me on the beach, but his voice was closer. I wanted to call out to him, but my vocal chords were just as paralyzed as my body.
“Jesus, Georgie. What the fuck?” From the closeness of his voice, I knew Jameson was behind me. He was so close I could feel the warmth of his body against my chilled skin. And then I knew that I was safe. That Russell Atlee would not return. Only then did I begin to sob. Soul-shattering sobs that sent tremors through my entire body, and continued even as Jameson’s arms carefully lifted me up and carried me away.
I noticed the exact moment Georgie left the clambake and I was careful to watch her as she made her way to the beach. We both needed time apart after spending such an emotionally-charged day together. I wasn’t worried until Lewis, Jenkins, and Sean all reported she hadn’t returned to the party.
Frantically, I ran down to the beach. I called her name but there wasn’t a response. When I saw the huddled, shaking mass in the sand, I hurried toward her, confused. Was she sick? Had she come down with the flu?
Presidential Bargain (The Presidential Promises Duet Book 1) Page 6
