Capitol Promises (The Presidential Promises Duet )

by Rebecca Gallo

  I smiled appreciatively. This was the man for the job. Now, I just needed to convince Jameson to nominate him.

  Jameson

  My first meeting with Maxwell Edison, and Georgie looked like a million bucks.

  “Can you please wear, like, a sack or something,” I grumbled, walking past her as she slipped on the long-sleeved, cream-colored dress.

  “Jameson, stop acting jealous and zip me up,” she commanded, turning her back toward me. I gripped the tiny zipper between my fingers and slid it up the back of the dress. The damn dress hugged every one of her curves. Maxwell Edison did not need to see this.

  “I’m serious, Georgie. Can’t you wear pants and a turtleneck?”

  Georgie turned and glared at me, her green eyes shooting daggers right through me. “There is nothing wrong with what I’m wearing, and I’m not going to change. You’re just going to have to deal with your emotions.”

  That was the problem. I didn’t want to deal with my emotions. I wanted to shove them aside and then lock Georgie up in our bedroom until Inauguration Day, and then lock her up in the White House. I didn’t want Maxwell Edison anywhere near what was mine. And I could think of one or two other world leaders who also needed to keep their distance.

  Hearing a flurry of activity outside the suite, I knew Max Edison had arrived. I made the mistake of letting him into my home for the first meeting, but this time, we’d meet on neutral ground. Georgie started walking to the bedroom door, eager to greet our guest, but I stopped her. With my grip firm on her bicep, she stared back at me with wide eyes.

  “He can wait,” I growled. I spun her until she faced me, and then I backed her up against the wall, where I held her captive with my body. I crushed my mouth against hers in a searing kiss, stealing every breath from her.

  “Jameson,” she gasped when I finally pulled away.

  I didn’t say a word. I wanted her to walk out there with the taste of my kiss on her lips, and her knees weak from arousal. Because she was mine, and Max Edison needed to understand that.

  I opened the door to the suite’s bedroom and walked out into the living area where Max stood flanked by Lewis and Jenkins. He towered over both of them despite their tall, lean frames, but with their nearly identical suits, they were just as intimidating.

  “It’s good to finally meet you, Mr. Edison,” I announced, extending my hand toward him. I could tell from the way he spun on his heel that my arrival surprised him.

  He took my offered hand and shook it firmly, but didn’t let go until the gesture turned awkward. I wasn’t going to be the first to relent in this first test. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. President. And congratulations on your victory.”

  “Thank you. Have a seat.” I gestured toward the group of sofas in the middle of the room. From the corner of my eye, I saw Georgie lurking in the doorway of the bedroom. I held out my hand toward her, and she slowly walked toward us.

  “Max, it’s good to see you again,” Georgie said warmly. Max made a beeline toward her instead of the couch and embraced her. I growled at his familiar way of greeting Georgie.

  “You look stunning,” he said, beaming at her, which made me growl louder.

  They both looked in my direction, and Georgie stepped away from him and toward me. My arm shot out and possessively wrapped around her, tucking her in close.

  “Georgie told me all about your meeting, and she’s very excited about the ideas you presented. So am I, but I have questions of my own.”

  “I should hope so,” he replied confidently, which hit a nerve. He didn’t have the job yet just because he sweet-talked Georgie.

  We all sat down, and Lewis and Jenkins remained close; their observations were crucial to whether this guy would sink or swim.

  “Mr. Edison, I am particularly concerned about your involvement with some lobbying firms before you became California’s Secretary of Education. There’s also evidence to suggest that even after you became Secretary of Education, you remained involved. That kind of behavior won’t be tolerated in my administration.”

  “I am well aware of those concerns. Georgie shared them with me during our meeting, and I promised her that I would divest myself of any involvement with those organizations.”

  “I will hold you to that, Mr. Edison.” I glanced over at Georgie, who was nervously chewing on her bottom lip. “I believe that when the American people elect you to a public office, they are your boss. You will have to answer to them and to me. How do you feel about that?”

  “The students in California have been my boss since Governor Neill chose me to run the education system in her state. Teachers have trusted me to give them a system they can work in and succeed. I think I’ve done a pretty damn good job of doing that, and I’ll be more than willing to work hard for the American people and their students.”

  Platitudes were only going to get this guy so far. Of course, he was telling me everything I wanted to hear while keeping an eagle eye on Georgie. He was gauging her reaction, looking to see how she responded to his comments. A pleasant but impassive smile remained on her lips while she listened intently. She took her own notes, and when he left, we would discuss her thoughts. But even though I promised her a say in who I picked, and agreed to vet her choice, I didn’t have to nominate them.

  “Let’s discuss your ex-wife.” The color drained from Max’s face, and I heard Georgie gasp next to me. Either she didn’t know about his ex-wife, or she was shocked that I asked about her.

  “That’s a private matter that is being handled. It won’t affect my performance.”

  “It may be a private matter, but you’re a public figure. Anything that happens in your private life also happens publicly. We know that firsthand. So we need to know what skeletons you’re hiding in your closet, Max.”

  “As I said, it’s a private matter, and it won’t affect my ability to do my job.” He remained firm in his position, but there was a crack in his voice that revealed his nerves.

  “Then this meeting is over. Thank you for your time.” According to Lewis and Jenkins, Georgie did something similar in her first meeting. When he wasn’t giving her honest answers, she dismissed him, and then he became more forthcoming with his responses. I was playing Georgie’s game; waiting to see if he’d crumble.

  “She’s extorting money from me. I come from money, and when we got married, she signed a prenup. There was an infidelity clause that stated she wouldn’t get anything if our marriage ended in divorce because of infidelity. And if the infidelity was on my part, then she’d get a fortune. Unfortunately, she was unfaithful, and the prospect of not getting a single penny out of me is making her desperate.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. The police reports looked pretty convincing to me,” I stated, referencing the allegations of domestic violence that were currently making headlines in California. “I’m not about to nominate someone who beats their wife.”

  “I didn’t lay a finger on her!” Max shouted. “That was from her most recent relationship. It’s more convenient to accuse me of battery because she thinks she’ll get money out of me. The police questioned me, but I was out of town the night she alleges I hit her. All the charges against me have been dropped.”

  “Max, we’re not accusing you of anything,” Georgie chimed in for the first time since our meeting began. “But you have to understand, these are things the committee will want to know. Jameson can’t nominate someone who’s in the midst of a scandal, only to have that person resign. It makes him look bad.”

  “Thank you, I appreciate that. But you both should understand when I say that this will not impact my performance as the Secretary of Education. I don’t want my personal life held against me.”

  “We do understand, but that’s never going to happen. Your private life is no longer private once you become a public official. As California’s Secretary of Education, you know this,” I told him plainly. I wasn’t happy with Georgie stepping in to smooth out the wrinkles. I wanted to push his b
uttons, to see what he was truly made of, but I couldn’t do that with her around. She was too enamored by him.

  I continued the meeting, even though I knew nothing more substantial would come out of it, because this was Georgie’s pick; I promised her, and I always kept my promises. I sat back and let her take the lead for the rest of our time. Georgie referenced specific policy proposals that I outlined during the campaign and asked Max about them. The input he offered was good—venturing on great even. I found myself agreeing with several points he made, which I could tell excited Georgie. She wanted me to pick him; she was eager to get into the White House and start working with him on policy and reform.

  When Max Edison left the hotel suite, I could tell that both he and Georgie were confident he would be nominated.

  I waited until the door was firmly shut before I struck, pinning Georgie against the wall with my body.

  “Is that who you want?” I hissed, before covering her lips with mine in a searing kiss.

  “What?” she asked breathlessly, her eyes cloudy and confused.

  “Is that the kind of man you want? The kind of man who you would choose for yourself, if you weren’t already mine?”

  My question was a cruel trap because I knew that, without a doubt, he was the kind of man Georgie would pursue. He was handsome and intelligent, and they shared similar passions.

  “It doesn’t matter, Jameson,” she whispered. “I love you.”

  “Answer my question.”

  She sighed reluctantly. “Yes, Jameson. He is the kind of man I would want. But that doesn’t matter because he wouldn’t want me back.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me, Georgie? He couldn’t take his eyes off you. And I almost ripped off his arms when he hugged you!”

  “I’m the first lady now, Jameson. I have some power. Men like him want power. If I was just a lonely, ordinary schoolteacher, he wouldn’t give me a second glance.”

  Georgie tried to wrestle herself free from my grasp, but I held her firmly in place.

  “You’re beautiful and smart and generous. I still don’t understand how no one claimed you before me.”

  “I’ve had boyfriends, Jameson. It wasn’t like I was a virgin when we met.”

  “That’s not what I mean.” I shook my head and tried to find better words to express how I felt. “I’m talking about someone coming along and saying, ‘She’s the one; the one meant for me.’ You’re the one, Georgie, and I’m the lucky bastard who gets to love you.”

  “Oh, Jameson,” she murmured, sliding her hands up my chest and then linking them around my neck. “You have nothing to worry about. I am yours, completely.”

  “Then you’ll forgive me when I don’t nominate him?”

  The spell was broken. Her eyes popped open wide, and I could see the anger rolling in like a fierce storm. “Jameson, are you serious?”

  “He’s a ticking time bomb. I can smell the scandal coming off him in waves. I don’t need that in my administration.”

  “Jameson, you promised me.”

  “I kept my promise, little darling. I agreed that he was a worthy candidate and vetted him. I never promised you that I would pick him. I have one more meeting scheduled with him. He has one more chance to prove to me that he isn’t some manipulative asshole.”

  “When is that meeting?”

  “The same day you go before the judge during Russell Hunt’s sentencing.”

  She sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s not fair.”

  “I know, Georgie. I want to be there, to hold your hand and wipe your tears, but I also need to have this meeting without you. He put on a show for you tonight, and from what Lewis and Jenkins said about your first meeting, he put on a show then. I need to know who he really is.”

  There was nothing I hated more than not being able to attend Russell Hunt’s sentencing. But our lawyers advised me to stay away, that having the president-elect sit in the courtroom would be a distraction. I wanted to punch them in the face and tell them they were dead wrong, but my gut told me they were one-hundred percent right. Georgie wouldn’t be alone, though; I made sure of that. I enlisted the help of Avon, and Lewis and Jenkins; they would travel with her while DeWayne and I met with Max Edison for a third and final time. DeWayne was like a human lie detector. If he smelled bullshit, then Edison would be out.

  “Do you trust me to make the right decision, Georgie?”

  “Of course, I trust you, Jameson.”

  I slipped my hand beneath the hem of her dress and brushed my fingers over the front of her lace panties. “Good. Now follow me.”

  Georgie

  This didn’t feel right without Jameson, but here I was, sitting in a courtroom, feeling like the walls were closing in on me. The lawyers advised him not to come, that as the president-elect, he would cause a scene. They were right, but I didn’t want to admit that. My stomach was a flurry of nerves, and I felt sick to my stomach. I kept an eye on the closest trash can, in case I needed to sprint toward it. I also scouted all the exits too.

  Avon sat next to me, holding one of my hands tightly, while Lewis and Jenkins occupied the seats on the opposite side. If Jameson was barred from attending, then I was relieved to have them both with me. Reluctantly, I reached out to take hold of Lewis’s hand. He surprised me by squeezing it as a sign of reassurance.

  We sat together in a long row of uncomfortable wooden pews behind the group of federal prosecutors. From time to time, they dared to look back at me, and I was more than happy to glare at them. They didn’t want the messiness of a trial. Jameson and his team of lawyers felt the same way, but I just felt anger. Russell Hunt should have to answer for the chaos he caused. He should have to face not only me, but also the families of the two agents and the families of the children. Looking around, I saw the widows of both agents and made eye contact. We’ve all been in contact because telling them how sorry I am for their loss, or how grateful I am for the sacrifice of their husbands will never really be enough.

  “I think I’m going to puke,” I muttered. Avon eyed me from the side, and I saw Jenkins lean forward to look at me. I scrambled out of my seat and dashed from the courtroom to the closest ladies’ room.

  I dry heaved until the spasms subsided and I fell back against the cool metal of the bathroom stall. I waited a few minutes, then wiping the sweat from my brow with a wad of toilet paper, I exited the stall, rinsed my mouth, and returned to the courtroom.

  Returning to my seat, Avon and Lewis both reached for my hands. I loved them so much right then. I was going to make a statement. It wasn’t required, but I wanted the judge to hear my words before Russell Hunt was sentenced.

  “Are you going to be okay?” Avon whispered.

  I was still sweating, and I felt clammy. A bottle of water appeared in front of me, and I graciously accepted it from my beloved spin doctors.

  “I will be when this is over and I’ve consumed my weight in chocolate cake.” Avon snorted with laughter, and the federal prosecutors looked sternly back at us. I wanted so badly to flip them off, but I didn’t. That wouldn’t have been very first lady-like.

  Movement to the left of me caught my attention, and I gasped when I caught my first glimpse of Russell Hunt. He looked different than he did in my nightmares. His brown hair was limp but neatly combed. He had a light beard and his too-tan skin now looked almost normal. He wasn’t wearing an orange prison jumpsuit, like I thought. Instead, he wore a navy blue blazer, white button-down, and khaki pants. He hardly looked like the expensive rich boy who was the illegitimate son of Lamar Huntley.

  He must have felt my eyes on him because when he was seated, he leaned back in the chair and searched the crowd of spectators. His eyes landed on me, and he sneered, his top lip curling up slightly. I looked away in revulsion, fearful that I’d throw up again.

  Lewis picked up on my distress and wrapped his arm tightly around me. I graciously accepted his comfort. These men used to be foreign to me, like mindless automatons, and now they were
like my family, my brothers. I leaned into his embrace until I was calm, until the bile settled back down.

  The judge entered, and everyone stood. For a moment, my view of Russell Hunt was obscured, and I felt relief. When we all sat back down, he stared straight ahead. I looked at the faces across the aisle to see if the governor had shown but no one looked familiar. He was probably advised to stay away too.

  I tuned out the proceedings because it was all legal mumbo-jumbo that went straight over my head. Immediately, I thought about the way Jameson explained things to me. He had such a way of taking the most complex of matters—foreign policy, trade agreements, the national debt—and breaking them down into the simplest of terms. I wished he was here now to make sense of all this.

  In a daze, I hadn’t realized I was being summoned until soft hands beckoned for my attention. Avon was shaking my arm, telling me the judge called my name. Reluctantly, I shook myself free from my thoughts and stood. I approached the table where the federal prosecutors sat and stood just at the end.

  “Ms. Washington, it’s my understanding that you wish to make a statement,” the judge asked, eyeing me skeptically.

  I nodded. “Yes, Your Honor.”

  “And you are aware that your statement is not a requirement of these proceedings?”

  “I am, Your Honor.” I resisted the urge to look back at my small team of support. But I felt them. I knew they were there if I needed them.

  “Then you may proceed with your statement.”

  “Objection!” one of the defense lawyers roared. I flinched at the sound of his voice and placed a hand over my furiously beating heart. “This is prejudicial toward my client!”

  “Mr. Stilton, your client admitted his guilt. I do not understand why you’re objecting to Ms. Washington’s statement.”

  “Your Honor, we feel that Ms. Washington’s statement might somehow sway the court to inflict a more severe penalty on Mr. Hunt.”