by Gage Grayson
Not that I’d ever let on.
I flash her the grin that I know makes her weak and raise my hands in the air, palms up.
“What, darling, you don’t like my note?”
She rolls her eyes and smiles, shaking her head as she reads the note aloud.
“Dear Bea,
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is as follows: one, will you please join me in my private dining hall for lunch today at one? Two, don’t wear underwear. Three, tonight, Netflix and chill?
Sincerely, Henry.”
She giggles, tossing the note onto the table before moving to sit on my lap and give me a quick kiss.
“Honestly, Henry, did you really need to use the seal for that?”
I slide my hand onto her stocking-clad thigh and squeeze, running it up her leg until I meet the hem of her skirt.
Smirking, I look back at her and kiss her again, this time with more hunger. I tug her bottom lip with my teeth just as I pull away.
“The important question is: did you follow my instructions?”
She bites her lip and takes my hand into hers, sliding it up underneath her skirt, and I smile approvingly when I feel bare skin.
She sighs, and I gaze back at her, taking her lips again and running a hand through her hair.
I think I’ll take my lunches with her more often.
Chapter 27
Beatrice
I couldn’t ask or think of a perfect way to spend the evening.
The whole suite is filled with the smell of perfectly cooked buttery popcorn. I’m curled up with Henry—who smells like sandalwood and lemongrass—and I couldn’t feel more content and blissful if I tried.
We’re about halfway through the first season of The West Wing, which Henry has—surprisingly—never seen before. I always figured watching the show was a prerequisite for modern day presidents, but apparently not.
It’s entertaining watching this with him, especially given some of his reactions.
Henry finishes the last of his beer and sets it down on the table as Netflix asks if we’re still watching.
“You know, I could get use to spending my nights like this,” he comments with that ever-so-charming smile of his.
“Which part? Watching Netflix or being curled up with me?”
“Both.”
“Well, you’re certainly not alone there. I can’t remember the last time I had such an enjoyable night in.”
From the floor, near the end of the couch, Duke stirs and gently growls in agreement.
I don’t think anyone has been more excited about coming to stay here at the White House more than Duke has. He’s got so much more room to run around and play here than back at my apartment that it’s essentially heaven for him here.
And everyone has taken a real liking to him, especially Scott—the head of my security detail—and Hope.
Speaking of, I’m fairly certain that there’s something going on between those two and that spending time walking Duke is just a ruse to see each other—not that Duke is complaining.
“Well, I’m glad to see that you and Duke are both enjoying your time here.”
From the corner of my eye, I see Duke’s head lift from the floor and look up at Henry, but he sets it back down when no more words come.
A low grunt comes from his lips once he sees Henry’s lips press against mine in a tender embrace.
If there’s one thing that Duke hasn’t been happy about since coming here, it’s sharing me with Henry. Duke’s not as territorial now as he was when we first arrived, but he’s still getting used to sharing my attention with another man.
“The White House doesn’t feel so…empty with you here.”
Henry’s words are filled with such warmth, affection, and sincerity that it’s impossible not to smile in response to them.
You can always tell when Henry is speaking from the heart. It’s one of the traits I adore most about him.
There’s this kind of vulnerability to him when he speaks about matters close to him. It’s a trait that lesser people would see as a weakness when, in truth, it’s a strength.
I think that’s why the American people voted for him. It’s why I voted for him. You can genuinely see his love for his fellow man when he speaks.
And when he speaks, it’s not from some speech that someone else wrote for him. It’s his words from his heart. I think it’s something that the people really responded to and admired about him.
“Well, there’s no place I’d rather be,” I say.
“You did give up a lot to be here.”
My eyebrow arches in mounting curiosity. “What do you know?”
“Well, I know that you passed up that job offer at the European branch.”
One of the downsides to being involved with the world’s most powerful man is that there isn’t much you can keep secret from him when it comes to your professional life—or personal one, for that matter.
“I found out a couple hours after your phone call with Fiona that you turned it down,” he admits coyly.
“Why didn’t you tell me you knew?”
“Because I figured you’d mention it whenever you were ready or wanted to. Just because I know these things doesn’t mean I don’t want to give you some semblance of privacy, at least. I wish I didn’t know these things, really. But, given who I am…”
I reach up to cup his cheek in my hand. The scruff of his five o’clock shadow tickles against my palm.
“No, I get it. You’re the president, and I’m just the girlfriend. It’s your people’s job to make sure I’m not a threat or liability. It comes with the territory. I know what I signed up for, Henry.”
I won’t lie, being watched all the time fucking sucks. But, as I told Henry, I knew that it all came with the territory when I agreed to do this. I walked into this knowingly and willingly.
And I wouldn’t change a damn thing.
“So, what other little details have your people told you about me that I don’t know about yet?”
“Nothing else, really. But you’ll be happy to know that we’ve determined that you’re not really some secret Russian sleeper agent out to get me.”
“Oh, well that’s a relief.”
The smile on Henry’s face fades and turns to confusion and curiosity. My own smile fades in response.
“Can I ask you something?” he ventures.
I nod.
“Why did you turn down that job in Europe? That position would have been a huge leap forward in your career.”
“It would’ve been, yes. But it’s not where I need to be right now. My place is here at your side.”
“I just don’t want to be the reason your career suffers or takes a backseat. I know it’s just as important to you as mine is to me.”
“It is, but this is a big opportunity, too. And I don’t mean us, I mean me being your biographer. Which I still am…right?”
“Of course. Just because we’re seeing each other doesn’t mean you’re out of a job.”
We share another tender kiss, which is followed by another groan from Duke down on the floor.
“That settles that then,” I say with a smile.
“For the time being anyway,” he says with a suggestive and knowing smirk.
As much as I adore this man, I hate when he does this.
“Alright, spill.”
“Well, for now, you being my biographer is no big deal. But what about when you become the First Lady?”
First Lady?
That’s something I hadn’t really given much thought to. Sure, I’d love to marry Henry someday, but we’re still taking things slow.
Marriage feels a long way off.
The thought of being the First Lady is terrifying. There’s a lot of eyes on me now as it is, but as First Lady?
That’s a whole new ball game.
And I’m lousy at baseball.
Yet there’s an appeal to it, I’ll admit.
A thrill.
&nbs
p; First Lady, Mrs Beatrice Thatcher.
It’s got a really nice ring to it.
Chapter 28
Henry
“Henry!”
I turn as I hear Lawrence behind me, and I slow my pace down enough so that he can catch up. Once he’s at my side, I pick it back up and continue my way through the West Wing.
“Lawrence, I’m just on my way to a meeting, but I’ve got a few minutes for you. What’s going on?”
He pulls out a date book and opens it up to next week. “I just have a few things we need to go over quickly before the week ends.”
I nod at him and check my watch, urging him to follow. “Alright, give me the low down.”
We discuss a few of our events and press releases that were scheduled, particularly another two involving Beatrice. It’s been a month since she’s moved in here, and it appears that she’s still a hot story for the press.
We walk around the corner, and I stop and turn to face Lawrence, my eyes narrowing and my head tilted to the side. I cross my arms in front of me and smile as I speak, trying to figure out his angle.
“Lawrence, none of this is stuff you usually concern me, so why don’t you tell me what you really need to talk to me about, old friend?”
He sighs and looks around to ensure that no one is eavesdropping and gestures to one of the empty meeting rooms just down the hall.
We walk over and go inside, and I gesture for my security detail to wait just outside for us as we enter.
He closes the door behind us, and we both sit down. I lean forward against the table, resting my elbows on it, and look over at him with a raised brow.
“Alright, Lawrence, what’s up?”
“The State Dinner is next week.”
Tell me something I don’t know.
“Yes, I’m aware that the State Dinner is next week, but what I’m not aware of is why this is such a big deal. Spit it out.”
He sighs and looks at me as he leans back in his chair, dropping the datebook down onto the table.
“We need to know if Beatrice will be acting as hostess at the State Dinner. If she is going to play hostess, then we need a game plan.”
I nod and sigh as I lean back in my seat. My eyes meet his, and I can see a few mixed emotions swimming about in them.
“Basically, what you’re saying is that we need to figure out exactly what my relationship with her means and how to play it.”
He nods. “I knew you would be quick on uptake,” he smirks. “If she’s going to be the hostess of the State Dinner, then we’re going to need to make your relationship with her official. And public.”
“You mean more than it already is?”
“Exactly.”
I nod at him and bring my hand up to massage my jaw as I mull things over. Of course, I knew that my relationship with Bea would have to be made official at some point. I was just hoping to delay that a bit longer until she and I had the chance to discuss it.
She’s been through a lot lately—and that’s just with the press thinking that we’re an item—that coming out and saying it officially is going to be putting a lot more shit on her plate to deal with.
As balls to the wall tough Bea is, I don’t want to see her beaten down by the press.
I shake myself from my thoughts and look up at Lawrence, sitting there patiently for me to answer or give some sort of acknowledgment that I heard him.
“Well, yes, she’ll most certainly be playing hostess, so I guess it’s time to ‘make things official’, as you say.”
He looks immediately relieved and smiles at me, and he slides over another file folder, to which I give him a confused glance.
“What’s this?”
“Typically, when someone passes you a folder, they want you to open it. I could give you some instructions on how to do it, if you like.”
He’s chuckles at me, and I shake my head—smiling as I do—and grab the folder.
Inside is a list of potential press release dates and statements prepared just waiting for me to sign off on them.
It’s my turn to chuckle as I wave the folder in front of me before sliding it back to him.
“It seems you already knew what my answer would be.”
He grins and takes the folder back, nodding as he gives a gruff reply. “Even without knowing you as long as I have, Henry, I knew what your answer was going to be just from our talk on Air Force One. Fuck, we all knew what the answer would be. We just needed you to say it out loud.”
I laugh, and we both stand, heading back outside of the room and back into the main hallway of the West Wing.
I continue on my way, and Lawrence follows after I gesture for him to do so, so we can discuss the next step.
“Okay, so, Lawrence, since this is going to be official, I’ll need you to start making the necessary arrangements, as well as get Hope up to speed.”
“She already is. She’s got statements prepared, a seating plan, as well as a few outfit choices for you both.”
I can’t help the chuckle that escapes from me as I shake my head. “Of course she does.”
“Mr President, your video conference starts in seven minutes.”
I turn to one of my security staff and nod to let him know I heard him, then back to the chief of staff.
“Okay, Lawrence, I’ve got to get in there, but I’ll need a few things from you in the meantime.”
He nods at me and takes out his phone to make a list. “Of course.”
“I’ll need you to get a few jewelry options together for me, so call in a few stores and get a rep over here from each one with selections. Oh, and make sure one of them has a few collar options.”
He whips his head up from his phone and gives me a disgusted look, scoffing at me. “Henry, forgive me, but you can’t be thinking of giving Beatrice a collar, that would be most…”
For a moment, I think he’s serious, but then I catch the glimmer in his eye just before he grins lopsidedly at me.
I can’t help the roaring laughter that erupts, and it attracts skeptical glances from everyone around us, much to Lawrence’s delight.
“You know, old man, you’re lucky that you’re basically family. Does your wife know you have such a dirty mind?”
“Why do you think she married me?” He’s smirking as he makes notes in his phone, and I let out an exasperated sigh as I bury my eyes in my palm.
I’d like to say that the man is just deplorable, but then I’m not much different. He’s rubbed off on me more than I’ve realized over our years of friendship.
I give him a mocking smile and pat him on the shoulder as I turn to walk into the conference room, earning a grin back.
“Alright, my old perverted friend. Update me later on the progress of those options?”
“Of course, you young whippersnapper.”
He turns and leaves, still chuckling to himself, and I walk into my conference with the staffers, a huge grin on my face.
“Good morning, all. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
Chapter 29
Henry
Everything has to be perfect.
Sometimes, it seems like that’s the description of my whole life.
Living in the White House certainly cuts down on the variables. If I was an ordinary man right now, I’d be trying to get the same table, at the same restaurant, with the same menu.
Sounds almost impossible.
Here, there’s no need for any of that. I know that the dining room is set exactly the way it was the night of our first date.
I smile at myself in the mirror as I fix my collar. I know it wasn’t officially a date, but I couldn’t help thinking of it as one. It certainly hasn’t done me any harm so far.
I’m dressed to kill—as per my usual—in a charcoal-colored suit and crispy white shirt open at the neck.
She says this is her favorite of my suits, so it feels appropriate to wear it.
I step back, brushing my hair with my hands, leaving
it loose and tousled.
Perfect.
I head down to the dining room, immediately testing the champagne and finding it perfectly iced.
One of the younger Secret Service agents on my detail knocks politely at the door, letting me know Beatrice has arrived.
I nod, letting him know I’m ready.
I’m really not ready. I’m ready to marry her—god am I ever ready to marry her—but this proposing part is actually a lot harder than I thought.
It’s almost like I’m back on the campaign trail again.
I push the clutter of nervousness as she walks in.
It’s a mental trick—that I picked up from Lawrence actually—honed through years of practice. No matter how many things are frothing for attention in my mind, when the moment comes to engage, I’m prepared.
I almost lose my easy smile as she strides in, wearing a scarlet-colored cocktail dress that hugs her snugly. It’s not her usual style—not that it matters. Bea could make a potato sack look good.
She kisses me on the cheek as I pour her some champagne.
“Are you hungry? I’m not sure if the food’s ready yet.”
“I’m starving! Had a few things to do, so I forgot lunch.”
“Excellent.”
I gesture to one of the servers standing nearby, who nods and disappears. Finding the right help is absolutely vital in any kind of negotiation. They need to be able to read you and your guest, so they can provide you with anything you require, and quickly.
We sit down across from each other, and I ask about Duke.
A real smile breaks across her face immediately. She tells me about his walk today and the games they played.
I love the dog for sure, but I also know it’s a subject that immediately puts Beatrice at ease.
The servers bring in the platters, and Beatrice laughs as she leans over, inhaling deeply.
“Well, if it isn’t roast lamb with mint sauce, roasted asparagus, peppers and rosemary potatoes!” She gives me a funny face and a wink. “Am I not supposed to notice that this is the same meal we ate the first night I had dinner here?”
