Capitol Promises (The Presidential Promises Duet )

by Rebecca Gallo

  “Son of a bitch.” I covered my face with my hand and leaned back in the leather club chair I was currently occupying. I decided against canceling the remainder of my trip, for now, but at the slightest hint of trouble between Max and Georgie, it would be over. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have listened to her when she waved Max Edison’s credentials under my nose and begged me to nominate him. My instincts told me that he was no good, but I was focused on her happiness and keeping my promise.”

  “He checked out, sir. He did everything we asked. He fooled us all.”

  “I just don’t understand his endgame. What’s his motive for toppling my administration?”

  “Sir,” Jenkins cut in. “Let them do their thing in Finland. We’re not going anywhere. And while we’re stuck in pretty much the nicest suite in the world, we’ll dig. We’ll answer those questions. What you’re doing now is important, and you need to keep working. We won’t let anything happen to her.”

  “Thank you.” I sighed. Lewis and Jenkins were hired to orchestrate a PR stunt, but they were so much more. They were Georgie’s brothers and protectors. They were constant companions, but most of all, they were loyal.

  Sean arrived soon after my conversation with Lewis and Jenkins ended. I was sitting in the living room of my suite, looking out at the exotic landscape, sipping one of the finest scotches that my mouth had ever tasted.

  “It’s done. Lauren is gone and Bart is on his way. He’ll be here in a few hours,” he informed me.

  I nodded. “And do we have eyes on her?”

  “Yes.”

  “Can they be trusted?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” I took another sip, letting the smooth smokiness glide down my throat. “The boys took Georgie’s phone. But she’s with Max, alone. I need to know if her agents are trustworthy, or if Max has them in his pocket too.”

  “I’m on it.”

  I looked up and finally met his gaze. “Sean, I don’t know what the fuck this guy wants, but she’s carrying my child. And if something happens to them …”

  I couldn’t finish my thought. I didn’t want to verbalize the rage that I felt just imagining Georgie or the baby hurt in anyway.

  “We’ll take care of it, James.” Sean placed a firm hand on my shoulder and squeezed tight. “But since you brought it up … how do you feel about Georgie being pregnant?”

  I shook my head. “I have no clue. It’s unexpected; I thought we were being so careful. This will certainly send all the pundits into a frenzy. Those ultra-conservative, right-wing, holier-than-thou assholes have been spewing so much bullshit about the two of us not being married. When they find out she’s pregnant, they are going to skewer us both. Probably her more than me.”

  That worried me. Lauren was supposed to provide me with updates anytime Georgie was mentioned in the news. She provided me with plenty of articles about Georgie, but they were all superficial. Now that duplicity was in the air, I had a feeling a lot of information was being withheld.

  “I want you to have someone dig up every article that’s been written about Georgie since I took office. Good or bad. I need to see what’s being said about her.”

  “Are you sure you want to read all that shit?” Sean eyed me carefully, and I sighed heavily.

  “Yes, Sean. She’s been dealing with this alone for so long, and I need to know what’s being said. I need to start making this right.”

  “Then I’ll get on it.” We shook hands before he left the suite. I remained rooted to the chair I was already occupying and finished my scotch. Since Georgie mentioned the rumors Tom Clayton was spreading, I started paying more attention to what was being said about us, no matter the news source. It was only the tip of the iceberg, but the self-righteousness of these media personalities was disgusting and nauseating. I could only imagine what Sean would dig up.

  It took Sean a few days to compile all the news articles, but eventually, he burst into my hotel suite shouting, “Russia!”

  “Jesus, Secret Service will let anyone in,” I muttered.

  “Shut up, jackass, and listen. It’s Russia.”

  “What’s Russia?” This idea intrigued me because Russia always seemed to have their meddling fingers in something.

  “The reason Max Edison wants to fuck you over so badly. The reason every conservative pundit in the nation seems intent on turning Georgie into the next Monica Lewinsky.” Sean’s blue eyes bulged with excitement and his face was beet red. He was practically jumping up and down on the sofa like Tom Cruise.

  “Explain more, please.” I urged him.

  “After his divorce, Max had to pay his ex-wife a pretty hefty sum to go away. She wasn’t just going to go quietly even if she might have fucked another dude. And then you made Edison divest his interest in that lobbying firm, which also set him back. So Russia swooped in and bought him. They’re pulling the strings.”

  “And how does all this relate to all the negative press about Georgie?”

  “We tracked the accounts of some of the reporters writing these pieces. They all received large sums of money from the same shell corporation, which is just a front for some Russian oil oligarch.”

  “So it’s not the government?”

  Sean shook his head emphatically. “No, this dude is on the Russian government shit list.”

  “Is Georgie in danger?” All this information that Sean was supplying was important, and ultimately, it would be dealt with, but I had priorities: Georgie and the baby she was carrying.

  “No, I don’t think Max will physically harm her, and I don’t think Russia will send anyone after her. They want power and influence. They want people on the inside.”

  I had the distinct feeling that there was an unsaid “yet” in there somewhere. Max might not harm Georgie, yet. Russia might not go after her, yet. If they were provoked, if they were desperate enough … those are thoughts that I didn’t want to entertain.

  “We’ve got some serious cleaning to do in the White House, James. I talked to Jack McGowan, the head of the NSA, and he’s on it. He also told me that Max has requested a higher level of security clearance than he would normally receive.”

  “He’s the goddamn Secretary of Education! He’s low-level on the security totem pole. I hope McGowan denied his request.”

  “Of course. And before you can even ask, McGowan is clean. We can trust him. He hasn’t been bought and paid for like the others.”

  That made me think about the agents assigned to Georgie’s Secret Service detail. “What about Georgie’s agents? Are they compromised?”

  “No, I had them checked out and cleared.” I still didn’t like that Georgie was without a phone, and that Lewis and Jenkins weren’t permitted to accompany her during her visits.

  “So how did Russia get to Max?”

  “We looked at his schedule. Right after he was sworn in, he had a series of meetings with a lobbying firm. That firm doesn’t exist; it’s just a shell for the same Russian oligarch.”

  “So did he take the meeting thinking he was making some connections, or did he take the meeting knowing what it really was?” I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, for Georgie’s sake. I hated that, after all this was finally handled, she would be disappointed.

  Sean shrugged his shoulders. “No clue.”

  “Well, we’ve got to build our case. Make it airtight. I’m going to fire him, but he’s going to be loud. He won’t go quietly.”

  “That’s not a problem.”

  “And what about Lauren? Has she been bought and paid for by the Russians too?”

  “Nope. She seems to just be a malicious bitch, hell-bent on sleeping her way to the top.”

  I looked down at the thick stack of files that Sean dropped on the coffee table when he arrived. This was a culmination of everything written about Georgie, good and bad.

  “Damn.” How did my administration manage to get so fucked up? Was my love for Georgie completely blinding me, or was it my own pers
onal ambition? I wasn’t sharp and focused; I was distracted. If I could see things clearly, then none of this would have happened. Or it wouldn’t have gotten so far.

  “Thank you, Sean. I appreciate all the work you’re doing.”

  “I live to serve,” he said with a bow.

  “I’ll let you know when I’m going to fire Edison.”

  He nodded and then left the suite. I sat there for a while after he left, staring at the pile of articles. I picked up one file and flipped through. Fluff pieces about her wardrobe. Nothing alarming. I set it aside and picked up another. One article caught my eye. I skimmed it and counted how many times the writer used the word whore in relation to my fiancée. Seven. That was seven times too many. I picked up another; it referred to Georgie as the “prostitute of Pennsylvania Avenue.”

  On a positive note, the news from Finland was surprisingly encouraging. She was really forming a good relationship with their educational leaders and establishing the foundation for a solid partnership. But she looked miserable. Her smile was forced and her eyes were lifeless; there was also a noticeable distance in the photographs between her and Max. Had he finally done something to fall out of her favor? The more time I spent looking through these articles, the angrier I became until with one sweeping gesture I knocked them all to the floor.

  This was what she had been dealing with since we entered the White House. She faced these harsh criticisms every single day and didn’t say a word to me about any of it. I leaned forward, placing my elbows on my knees, and cradled my head in my hands. Georgie was so unbelievably strong—much stronger than I gave her credit for—and all I did was criticize her determination. She was trying to carve out her own path, so she would be seen differently, but even that was misconstrued too. I glanced toward the scattered papers and could see a handful of them with pictures of her and Max at various events over the course of the past few months. I knew exactly where she was every night, but that didn’t stop the gossip mill from speculating that she was trying to sleep her way through Washington.

  Hours later, I called Sean. “Cancel the rest of this trip. I mean it this time.”

  Georgie

  “You’re sick again?” Max’s voice was full of disdain.

  I wiped a napkin across my mouth and took a sip from a glass of water. “Yes, Max. That’s what happens when you’re pregnant. I can’t help it.”

  “A goddamn doctor travels with you. Can’t they do anything?”

  “No. I’ve already explained this.” I glanced up at him, and his expression was full of nothing but disgust.

  “This trip has been a fucking waste.” He paced in front of me, his hands on his hips, watching me closely. “Nothing has been accomplished with you in the bathroom every thirty seconds, puking your guts out.”

  “I’ve already apologized. There isn’t anything else I can do.” I didn’t want to tell him that I was feeling weaker than usual, and that my White House doctor was worried about dehydration, because that would only provoke him even more. “I need to see Dr. Hartley.”

  “Why? We have a meeting in a half hour.”

  “Because I haven’t been able to keep anything down for days.”

  “Whatever,” Max scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll go and meet with President Lahti myself.”

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I gathered my belongings and shuffled back to my suite. This was the routine for the past few days. I would meet Max in his suite, and then we would leave together. But morning sickness delayed every meeting we had scheduled. There was also a hint of jealousy in Max’s rage because my reception by the Finnish government had been warm and welcoming while he was greeted with a cold indifference. He didn’t have as much power here as he did in Washington, and that seemed to annoy him.

  I made it to my suite just before another bout of nausea hit, and I raced toward the small trashcan in the suite’s foyer. While I kneeled on the cold marble floor, two pairs of identical black loafers approached.

  “We’re calling Dr. Hartley,” Lewis said.

  “I don’t really care,” I croaked.

  “And President Martin,” Jenkins added.

  “Still don’t care.” I held the trashcan and leaned my head against the wall.

  “Come on, let’s get you into bed.” Strong hands slid under my arms and lifted me to my feet. Lewis held firmly to me as we walked slowly toward the suite’s bedroom.

  As soon as I saw the bed, I crawled into it and placed my pounding head on the downy soft pillow. Jenkins covered me with the thick comforter and then left the room, leaving me alone in the dark. Tears slid down my cheeks. Why did I leave Washington? Why was I so determined to insert myself into massive policy changes? Why was I being so obstinate, fighting Jameson, when I should be working beside him? I missed him fiercely, and Max’s betrayal made my decision to leave Washington a thousand times worse.

  There was a knock on the suite’s door, and then hushed voices speaking outside my bedroom. Within minutes, Dr. Hartley walked into the room, a concerned expression on her face. She placed a comforting hand on my forehead and then grunted in disapproval.

  “You should have called me earlier,” she scolded me.

  “I’m sorry. I was hoping it would go away. I was supposed to meet with President Lahti today. It was important, and I wanted to be there.”

  “You shouldn’t risk your health or the health of your baby.”

  “I know,” I replied weakly.

  I looked away when she reached for my arm and slid the thin needle right in the crook. She worked quickly to tape the IV into place and then hooked the bag of fluids to the top of the headboard.

  “You need to rest for a few days,” she commanded me. I nodded lamely. “I’ll be back to check on you in a few hours. If you don’t improve by tomorrow, then I’m going to recommend you be admitted to the hospital.”

  She left me, and I could hear the soft murmur of voices outside my room. They were concerned about me—that much was evident—and probably a little scared.

  I slept quietly for a few hours until loud pounding woke me up. The pounding was then followed by yelling.

  “She’s sleeping,” Lewis and Jenkins both shouted almost simultaneously.

  “I don’t give a fuck what she’s doing. She needs to get up right now.”

  The handle of the suite’s bedroom door shook violently, and then I could hear a scuffle.

  “Get your fucking hands off me!” Max yelled.

  “No! You need to leave her alone. Dr. Hartley told her to rest, and that’s what she’s doing.”

  “Fuck you both.”

  The doors flew open, and Max loomed in the doorway, his blue eyes wild and filled with rage.

  “I wasn’t allowed to see the president,” he sneered. “Do you want to know why?”

  I suspected why; I wasn’t with him, but I didn’t answer. I simply turned away from him.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you!” he demanded.

  I didn’t, though. I silently cried while Lewis and Jenkins fought their way into the bedroom. The sounds of their scuffling told me everything I needed to know, but it didn’t matter because I had never felt so alone, and it was entirely my fault.

  “What the fuck?” Jameson’s voice was unmistakable and loud. It filled the entire suite, and it filled me.

  I turned just in time to see him grab Max by the collar of his dress shirt and pull him away from Lewis and Jenkins. He held Max upright and then cocked his fist back before letting it loose, right into Max’s face. He went down with a groan, and Jameson shook out his fist before he bent over Max, grabbing the front of his shirt with one hand and letting another sharp jab fly.

  “Stop,” I croaked out. I was so tired and weak and couldn’t handle to barbaric scene taking place in front of my bed. “Please stop him.”

  Lewis and Jenkins seemed to regain their senses, and they both scrambled to pull Jameson off Max. Secret Service agents scrambled into the suite and helped re
strain Jameson, who was ready to beat Max to a pulp.

  “You’re fired,” Jameson spat. He looked at the agents holding him and seemed to relax. “You can escort Mr. Edison to his room because his trip has been canceled.”

  “Yes, sir,” they responded, dragging a dazed Max with them.

  Jameson straightened his tie and tugged on the cuffs of his shirt before he turned his attention to me. His normally pale blue eyes were dark and stormy, but they softened.

  “Oh, little darling,” he whispered.

  Sharp pain sliced through me before I could even respond, and I doubled over, clutching my abdomen. “Jameson,” I moaned.

  “Oh shit,” I heard him say. I looked over to see him run the short distance over to me. He climbed onto the bed and reached for me. “What’s wrong little darling? Georgie, tell me. What’s wrong?”

  “It hurts so bad, Jameson,” I whimpered.

  His hands ghosted over me, trying to find the source of my pain. And then I heard him suck in a sharp breath. “You’re bleeding,” he whispered.

  “She’s bleeding!” he called out. “She needs help!”

  The last thing I saw before my world went black was the fear in his glacial blue eyes.

  Jameson

  There was so much blood. Blood everywhere. On her pants. On her thighs. On the sheets beneath her. On my hands. It felt like an eternity before the Secret Service agents arrived, but I stayed with her the entire time. I held her hand in mine and stroked her hair. The pain caused Georgie to momentarily lose consciousness. When the paramedics arrived minutes later and moved her onto a gurney, her eyes fluttered open and I could see the panic.

  “It’ll be okay, little darling. I’m right here.” I jogged alongside her as we rushed through the hallways of the hotel to a service elevator. They loaded her inside, and I scrambled into the cramped space. There was no way that I was leaving her.

  We made it to the ground floor, and they rushed her to a waiting ambulance, its lights flashing brightly. I followed her inside and the doors were closed. Within minutes, the ambulance was racing toward the Women’s Hospital.