With the sound of brewing happening in her kitchen and the smell of coffee grounds filling her entire loft, she grabbed the remote and clicked on her television. CNN materialized on the black screen. It was the only channel she watched, aside from the occasional BBC debate. But, being the Secretary of Defense in a liberal administration, there weren’t a lot of options for light entertainment if she wanted to stay ahead.
A woman with a really bad bob cut and a fake smile started talking, and behind her was the unmistakable sound of protesting and riots. Since the latest “race related” shooting, there had been a lot of looting and protests all over the country and even a few in Europe.
“Riots have broken out in Baltimore, St. Lewis, Birmingham, LA, and New York over the Remington incidents last week,” she declared.
Anita poured her coffee and turned to stare at the television, the hot caffeine-infused liquid slowly giving her life.
“Police have been issued tanks and warheads to combat the civilians, but that has only caused more distress in these areas. The National Guard has been stretched thin over this issue, and there have been talks about incorporating other areas of the military to help restore order.”
Anita scoffed as she watched the live feed of poor-looking civilians jutting angry signs into the air, yelling obscene things at people in uniforms and throwing objects like rocks and enflamed wooden sticks. There have been no such talks, although she worried that the person who had leaked this was probably thinking that there should have been. That only meant she had a heated argument waiting for her in the situation room.
Just as she was strategizing the best approach to her day, the shrill sound of her phone ringing cut through the riots and the screaming. She scurried back to the kitchen and picked up her cell phone. “Hey Jori,” she quipped.
“Wow, you sound so awake… considering,” Jori greeted, her southern accent wrapped around slightly surprised words.
Anita shrugged, even though she knew Jori wouldn’t be able to see her. “Uh yeah. Well I have to be. I don’t have a choice, do I?” she replied.
There was a static sound through Anita’s earpiece as Jori released a heavy breath. “Yeah. Uh…. Listen, Hun… The reporters are gonna eat me alive. The president needs to have a press conference as soon as possible because these people are practically hyenas. But he can’t do that—”
“Until he figures out what to say, which means we need to figure out how we’re dealing with this, which means that I need to get down to the situation room,” Anita finished. She had already put down her coffee and was rushing to her bedroom to snag the first suit she could get her hands on. It was a bright red pants suit with a black blouse—war colors, which seemed apt for the undoubtedly combative day ahead of her.
“Exactly,” Jori replied. “Look, I gotta go. Alice wants to see me.”
Anita rolled her eyes at the mere thought of Victoria Alice, who was, no doubt, the most annoying woman who had ever worked in the White House. “Right. Okay. I’ll be there in thirty minutes.”
And, exactly thirty minutes later, Anita was walking into the situation room in her red suit and black heels, her binder in hand and her third cup of coffee warming her fingers. The small conference room was bustling with activity, and President Holland stood hunched over Victoria, speaking in hushed tones about something that seemed important.
Anita took one look at her big, blonde curls and averted her gaze… not before her fourth cup of coffee.
She sat down and pulled her binder open, just as the President took his seat and Victoria scurried away.
“Look, we've got more than one serious situation on our hands.”
Anita nodded as she scoured her binder for the notes she had hastily jotted down. “Instead of giving the police military equipment, we should tighten up the National Guard,” she quipped, completely confident in her decision.
The entire room turned to face her, the president included.
“No. We need a stronger arm. Shifting forces won’t do a thing, and if we disarm the police, the right-wing backlash could kill us,” John, the General of the Army chimed.
Anita nodded. Of course he was the one who wanted a stronger military arm—that would only make his job that much more relevant. “No. Politics is not the main concern right now. Resolving this issue is,” she replied.
President Holland raised a hand to silence the two of them. “I said, we have a more pressing issue.” With that, he nodded at Victoria, who then turned the television on.
Hiss entire cabinet watched as a UN convoy spontaneously blew up on a shaky feed in the middle of the night. “Apparently, our people aren’t safe in Israel anymore,” he declared in a harsh voice.
Anita shook her head. “It’s Russia, isn’t it?” she asked.
He nodded. “Not just Russia. I’m afraid the situation in the Middle East has reached an uncontainable zenith.”
Anita tried to stop her jaw from dropping, but it was truly difficult. Things hadn’t been this bad on that side of the world since the Second World War.
Chapter Two
“Okay. The way that I see it, international media is keeping this hush hush, so we at least have a grace period. I move to turn our attention back to what is going on in our own country,” Anita declared as she glanced back at her notes and tried her best to block out the image of the riots she saw just that morning over her first cup of coffee.
“We all know what we’re gonna do anyway: apply more force and make it look like we are supporting whatever the mayor says he wants to do,” John argued.
Anita opened her mouth to respond, but it was getting a little warm in the situation room. She couldn’t discern whether it was because the caffeine was finally getting a chance to work its way through her system, or because she could just sense she was the only one on a particular side.
As if to confirm this suspicion, a voice in the back of the room chimed in with, “I completely agree. Race riots are the talk of the town and the media will have a field day with whatever decision we make anyway. This way, we can contain the conflict before the media can sink its claws into it.”
The entire table turned to see where this sensible argument had come from, Anita included. She furrowed her brow at the sight of a tall man with tanned skin, blue eyes, and impossibly perfect hair. He looked like he belonged, not in the middle of one of the most important debating forums in the world, but on a Calvin Klein billboard. “Are you kidding me?” Anita demanded, hiding her nerves in her anger. “Who is this guy?”
Victoria rolled her eyes. “Everyone, please meet our new UN ambassador, Bruce Harrington. I swear none of you even read your memos anymore.”
“Not when we have to figure out how to save the world first thing in the morning,” Anita mumbled to herself.
Bruce gave everyone a short nod, before he turned to John and uttered, “Could we see the convoy video again?”
Anita slammed her notebook shut. She didn't care that the entire room was staring at her wondering if she was on her period, she did not like the direction this conversation was headed. “Okay, I don’t understand why this is so hard to grasp, but if we sit here and argue about a situation the world doesn’t even know about while neglecting the fact that the whole world is watching the United States fall apart at the seams, we'll lose our chance to get anything done as an administration.”
John huffed out an angered breath. “All right, and what the hell to you suggest we do since you’re so wise?” he demanded.
Anita rolled her eyes. “I am wise. That’s why I’m here!” she snapped.
Bruce cut in quickly. “Can we not call each other names like children? Now, back to Palestine… I think we need more information. I mean, if you ask me, this is classic Russia manipulating everyone around her. Putin has got that whole continent eating out of his palm, and we have to do something if we want to nip his influence in the bud.”
“And what, exactly, do we do?” Anita demanded, throwing her attention in
his direction. “Since you are so urgent to ignore our domestic issues, even though we have reporters camped out on the White House lawn waiting for a word, why don’t you tell me what your brilliant solution is.”
Bruce glowered at her, though he somehow managed to maintain an infuriatingly amused smile on his lips.
She internally kicked herself for even noticing those lips, but now that she had, she couldn't get them out of her head.
She looked away. “Look, all I have to say is that this is not a good idea. The way that you are handling this, the way that we all are handling this, is not good. We are keeping the media from inside the eye of the situation in Baltimore, refusing to let their people even near Birmingham, meanwhile, our National Guard is completely helpless, but we treat our police force like they are authorized to handle military machinery. We are fostering distrust in our decisions, while doing nothing about the actual situation. If we make the wrong choice, we could lose public support and once we do that, it won’t matter what we decide to do about Putin, because without the support of our country, we will get nothing done. We are not the secret service. We are not the Central Intelligence Agency. We are the United States Government. Am I the only one acting like it?”
The president spoke first in the silence that followed. “Look, Bradshaw… I'm sorry that you feel all of these things, but if you are so sympathetic to the media, maybe you should go join them with a stake and a microphone and leave the real decisions to the men who can handle being in charge.”
Anita could have ignored the gender reference, if she wasn’t, indeed, the only woman in the room aside from Victoria, who was really just President Holland’s Vana White. She shook her head. “I don’t care what your think of me, but I care what they think of us. You said you have a solution, so let’s hear it.” She was the only person within a hundred thousand miles who would talk to the president that way.
Holland opened his mouth to respond, but Bruce cut it. “Weren’t you listening?” he demanded. “Rhetoric and support. It’s simple.” He then snapped, “You are wasting our time, Bradshaw.”
Anita set her jaw. She was starting to sound like a sad breaking record in that room full of men, and at that moment, all she wanted was another cup of coffee and a big bowl of soup. Blood rushed to her face, and she could hardly continue to argue in that stuffy room. She could tell when she was losing. She didn’t need a dismissal to make that obvious.
Chapter Three
“Rhodes.”
Anita groaned at the sound of Victoria’s voice. Was it too much to ask to get out of that hot room and above ground without any more distractions or annoying conversations?
Apparently.
“Yes?” she snapped as she picked up her empty mug and went to join Victoria at the front of the conference room.
“I know you’re a little mad at Bruce for being right—”
Anita blinked twice. This was not happening. “Excuse me? I’m sorry, but I didn’t know you were allowed to have an opinion. You’re a glorified secretary,” she replied.
Victoria winced, but recovered quickly. “Say what you will,” she started, leaning into Anita with that menacing smile on her face, “but at least the president actually takes my advice.”
Anita rolled her eyes. “On what? Which tie to wear.”
Victoria scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. That’s his wife’s job.”
“Oh please. That wouldn’t be the only time you’ve overstepped the first lady’s, ‘duties’,” she stated. Anita knew that Victoria was the worst kind of skank.
The woman bit her lip, then fired back, “This isn’t about me. I don’t have to prove anything to you.”
Anita shrugged, noting the hilariously condescending way Victoria spoke to her superior. “Whatever you say.”
Victoria let out a dark chuckle. “You’re such a sore loser,” she said with a sniff.
“This is not about me, Victoria, or you. This is bigger than us, believe it or not.” Anita was starting to lose patience, unable to handle someone as daft as Victoria for more than five minutes. “Besides, is there a reason you’re wasting my morning with this pleasant chit-chat?”
Victoria nodded slowly. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I told Bruce you would get him up to speed.”
Anita got real dizzy, real fast. Her heart fluttered in her chest at the mere thought of being alone with him, while at the same time she seriously wondered if she could resist the urge to physically fight him… “You can’t be serious,” she mumbled.
A mischievous smile stretched across the woman's smug face. “Oh, but I am.” she replied, “but don’t worry, we’re already going on a date, so, he probably won’t try anything with you.” She added the last part as a whisper into Anita's ear. Her breath, annoyingly, smelled of strawberries and yogurt.
Anita glowered at her. “Are you kidding me?” she demanded.
Victoria just shrugged and left the room, and over her shoulder she said, “I’m really not.”
Anita let out a sigh before she slowly made her way out of the situation room. Much to her surprise, Bruce was waiting on the other side of the door, his briefcase in one hand, and a black cigarette in the other.
“You smoke?” she demanded.
His lips folded into a crooked smile, one Anita couldn’t help but find seductive. “Are you gonna judge my moral character now?” he retorted.
Anita’s facial features arranged themselves into stale expression. She was getting extremely tired of the high school antics of the morning. “I don’t care about your moral character,” she muttered as she started walking down the hallway.
“Where are we going?” he asked, following her down the hall and into the elevator.
Anita tried not to think about the fact that she was in such a small, enclosed space with one of the hottest men she had ever met in the real world. “To my office. I have an apple waiting for me, as well as the briefs for Russia.”
He scoffed as the elevator doors dragged open. “Glad to see you’ve hopped on board.”
Anita shook her head, her eyes scrunching in confusion. “See, I don’t get that. Why does everyone expect me to be so destructively selfish?” she asked, more to herself than to him as she made her way to her office.
He followed her inside and stood in the center of it, his tall frame fixing itself in her space like a valiant Greek statue.
“Because you are ridiculously competitive,” he replied at last.
Somehow, he made it sound like it was a compliment.
Anita stood over her desk, desperately sifting through her mess of papers for the Russia file that had embarrassingly alluded her for some reason. She nodded. “Well, whatever. Look, do you really need help from me, because I have a lot to do…”
Bruce shrugged. “Well, I’ve got almost a decade of secret deals, foreign policy, and UN bullshit to study up on, so it would be nice if you would just do your job and brief me on the Russia situation.”
Anita rolled her eyes so hard, it made her headache worse, then gestured for him to sit down. Once they were both at her desk with a large file sprawled across it, less than a foot separated their faces and Anita found it literally impossible to ignore his eyes. “Okay, well here we have Putin. The media will tell you that he is some dictator mastermind who is trying to take over the world, but it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Is it?” Bruce asked, looking up at her.
Anita made the mistake of looking back, allowing their eyes to lock. For the first time in a long time, she felt her brain freeze. Every complex thought that had just been banging against the wall of her skull hung suspended in her head, frozen in time. It was a blissful silence she didn’t know how to interpret.
“Yes. It is,” she eventually replied, kicking herself for the crush she could literally feel coming into being.
Chapter Four
Anita, having showered and changed into her pajamas after an uneventful kickboxing class, settled down in front of her plasm
a for some shitty reality television to calm her nerves. Ever since her charged conversation with Bruce, his impossibly blue eyes were all that she could think about. She wanted to talk to him about how he had gotten his job in the office, where he had come from, what his goals were in the UN, but at the same time, she couldn’t stand the way that he was constantly challenging her and subverting her authority, despite the fact that he was the new kid, not the other way around.
She stuffed her face with yet another fork-full of poorly made spaghetti as the theme of Million Dollar Listing came across her television and filled her living room, but even watching Louis’ self-absorbed monologueing couldn’t lift her out of her thoughts. After another fifteen minutes of staring at her television but not actually seeing anything, she picked up her phone and called Jori.
“Hello?” she answered in with a voice that indicated her mouth was full.
“Hey you,” Anita sighed.
“You sound tired. Today was an early day, thank God. So go to sleep,” Jori told her.
Anita shook her head. “Are you kidding me? After what happened today?” she asked, referring to the massive failure that was the situation room.
Jori just laughed. “You say that like you’re the one who has to face public outrage over decisions you didn’t even have a say in.”
“Isn’t that what we all have to do?” she asked. “The president is the only one who can honestly say he has the power to change what happens in that room and he doesn’t seem any better for it.”
“Oh boo hoo. You can complain to me about who has it worse, or you can tell me what the hell is going on with you and Bruce,” Jori demanded.
Anita’s eyes went wide. “You saw us?” she asked.
“You had lunch with him. Everyone saw you.”
ALIEN ROMANCE: Captivated by the Alien Lord (Alien Invasion Abduction SciFi Romance) (Kahara Lords Book 7) Page 34
